Each word was hissed through clenched teeth. Atta watched me, face impassive except for the slightest, imperceptible tick of her jaw.
"I'm not here to argue with you," she said primly. Her hands folded on her lap. “And I'm sorry for implying that you should forgive Mali. It's your decision, I know that, but I also know that she loves you fiercely. She misses you, and I hate seeing my mate so distressed."
My breaths sawed in and out, and I worked on calming my racing heart. Each breath physically hurt me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't release or take in enough air.
"You look beautiful as well," I whispered at last. It was an apology...and it wasn't. It was the sort of muddled, middle ground I often found myself in with the people I cared about. A gray landscape that wasn't quite dark enough to be considered black and not light enough for it to be white.
Still, Atta took the bone I threw her with a grateful smile.
"Thank you."
I wasn't lying. Atta did look beautiful. She wore a pink dress that accentuated each one of her curves. Her red hair was piled into an elaborate bun at the top of her head, twin braids twining the hair away from either side of her face.
"I need to go meet up with my date," Atta said, jumping to her feet. She flashed me another tentative smile, and my lips reluctantly tilted up to match her own. I was afraid my "smile" resembled more of a grimace, but I was trying.
"Your date?" I parroted, following her to the door. Was Mali coming to the ball?
Fear and exhilaration warred for dominance within me before both emotions were swept away by anger, white hot.
Atta's smile turned apologetic. "No...Jax. My fiancé."
The smile left my face instantly, a bucket of cold water being thrown over my head. My eyes narrowed into thin slits as jealousy reared and bucked within me. They told me that green was the color of jealousy, but that was a blatant lie. All I saw was red as I stared at the beautiful woman preparing to meet up with my mate.
I couldn't quite understand the extent of my possessiveness.
Atta held up her hands placatingly.
"It's just for appearances," she said soothingly. "I know he's yours."
When I continued to glare at her, my emotions running rampant within me, she took another step closer. Her tiny hands rested on my shoulders.
"I promise you, Z. You have nothing to worry about. I much prefer the P over the D, if you know what I mean." As if to further emphasize her point, her gaze flickered to my heaving breasts. A delicate flush raced up her neck, and she glanced up quickly. "Jax loves you...well...as much as someone as fucked up as him can. Please trust me. And if you don't trust me, trust him. There's nothing to be jealous of." She laughed heartily, throwing her head back and releasing my shoulders. "If anything, those guys should be jealous of the time I spend with you."
When I raised a brow at her in confusion, she flashed me a sultry wink.
"You have good tits," she said unashamedly. At that, I began to laugh as well. Atta was beginning to grow on me. Like a fungus.
My laughter diminished as I mentally reeled in my jealousy. It didn't completely abate, but I no longer wanted to claw her eyes out. I may not trust her completely, but I trusted Jax. I trusted all my guys, actually. Even Bash.
That asshole could talk a big game, but I knew innately that he would never cheat on me or do something stupid.
Flicking her fingers in a makeshift wave, Atta ducked out the door. I wasn't even able to close it before a dark boot appeared in the doorway. The boot led to skin-tight black pants, a white dress shirt and black suit, and then finally to a mane of golden hair. It took me a moment to place where I knew him from, and fear raced down my veins in icy waves.
Tavvy. Dair's old brother.
I didn't know a lot about him, only that he had hurt my mate. In a fit of jealousy, he and his father had cut off his legs in order to make him less desirable. Dair tried to hide his pain, tried to bury it in the sand, but there was only so much he could do. For that reason alone, I hated Tavvy. The hate stemmed from deep within my stomach, this baked fire burning red hot, before spreading upwards. Every nerve in my body was seconds away from exploding just by being in his presence.
I could only describe his smile as predatory as he did a careful perusal of my body. His tongue snaked out to lick his lips, and I shivered in disgust.
"What are you doing here...your highness?" I tacked on the title at the end, just barely keeping my aversion in check. He chuckled, the sound teetering the edge between annoying and malevolent, before leaning forward. His hand tightened around a strand of my blond hair, and I resisted the urge to cut that hand off.
Considerable restraint, if I did say so myself.
"I'm your date," he murmured. His face turned into my neck, inhaling deeply. That disgust turned into anger and that anger contorted into fear. The way he touched me...
It was almost as if he believed he had absolute control over me and my body.
That mentality could get someone killed. Me or him - the verdict was still out on that one.
"I'm your date," he repeated huskily. His nose brushed my sensitive skin, and I shivered in revulsion. He mistook my tremble for one of desire, and his hand tightened on my waist. "You're so fucking beautiful. Sexy."
"I don't think this is a good idea, your highness," I said diplomatically, stealthily attempting to move away from his wandering hands. My attempted escape found
