Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) Rebecca Grey (first e reader txt) 📖

He hums and makes a show of locking his lips shut and throwing away an imaginary key. I smooth my hand over the dress. No one at this party will know that this isn't normal everyday attire for me. No one except Marcello, Juilliard, and Hedda. Plus Finnegan and Sloane, should they somehow eventually show up.

Our short ride comes to a stop. The doors slide open, revealing a cluster of Hybrids waiting in the hall. They leave only enough space for us to make it through the crowd and to the open ballroom doors. Polished marble flooring sparkles under the thousands of lights hanging from the ceiling. Hybrids are gathered in clusters around the room.

Everything is... big. Overdone, in my very own opinion. Tables are set around the large open dance floor filled with couples waltzing to sounds of the string quartet band at the head of the room. On each table is a vase nearly as tall as I am sprouting with feathering grasses and budding white flowers.

Large platters, three times the normal size of a plate, are filled to the brim with a colorful hodgepodge of food. At this point, my stomach should be growling when I see the items displayed for me, but the longer I look the more confused I become. The food doesn't look like any food I recognize. One tray is what I would call a kabob of cupcakes? Another has some type of bread with a smear of something else on top of it with an unidentifiable meat and... is that supposed to be cheese?

I shake my head and look away. All over the large room are balloons that if I pulled on the strings that keep them anchored down, I wouldn't be surprised if the balloon itself could carry me away. Everything in The Oasis is what we have in The Bend, but so much more. Bigger isn't always better.

Every guest, as Marcello had suggested, has their faces covered in a mask. Some people’s masks are thick pieces of plastic shaped to look like animals; the beak of a bird or the snout of a pig. Some creatures are more similar to the type of mask that Marcello picked out for us, elegant pieces of fabric that tie into the concept of their outfits.

I prefer the mask Marcello gave us. If he'd tried to put me into something with a face that reminds me of another Hybrid I'd probably have shattered it under my pointed heel.

"Do you have your weapons on you?" Marcello leans into me and whispers. The way his nearness heats my skin makes me wish I could move closer to him.

"Obviously." I turn my face just a fraction, knowing if I move any more that his lips will brush my skin.

"Great." He stands. "Don't use them. Don't cause any sort of commotion."

I scoff loudly. "As long as nobody touches me, I won't touch them."

"If there's a night to be touching anybody, tonight is definitely the night. Just make sure it's a pleasurable experience." Marcello lifts a hand, stroking down the side of my cheek with his thumb before he tosses the bottom of his suit jacket behind him and tucks his hands into his pants pockets, walking away. With the absence of his touch, I realize how much I’d actually leaned into him.

I crinkle my nose and blink heavily. Juilliard and him immediately strike up a conversation as they walk away. I watch their backs, wishing Marcello had asked me for a dance. Not that I would accept, but the offer would have been nice. Hedda long since disappeared into the crowd. What am I to do with myself now?

The room smells like expensive perfume but the scent of the hors d’oeuvres set out on the arrangement of tables still cuts through it all. Even if the food doesn't look appetizing it smells absolutely amazing. I clasp my hands in front of me and walk calmly to one of the tables. A few other masked players pick at food as they talk to one another, I find a gap at a table with no one else about and fill it.

Absently, I watch the people move across the dance floor as I reach down to pick up some of what I think is a small stack of various vegetables with a spread on top. It's served cold which somehow makes me more nervous about what I'm about to put in my mouth.

The way the dresses fan out around the twirling bodies of Hybrids on the floor draws my attention once more. It's hypnotic in the circling patterns they create. I take a bite without thinking. There is a hint of that fresh vegetable taste I'm familiar with, but then my tastebuds are assaulted with an overwhelming amount of salt. Automatically, I drop the appetizer back onto the tray it came from and reach for a stack of napkins.

I've swallowed many things I probably shouldn't, but there is no way this is going down the hatch. The napkin, I quickly realize, isn't disposable. Still, I spit out the small bite into the fabric, ball it up in my hand and toss it under the table where the tablecloth drapes all the way to the floor.

"I could have told you that the appetizers are utterly disgusting."

I spin around holding a hand to my mouth, the overpowering taste still lingering in the very worst way. My cheeks heat as I meet the brown eyed gaze of a man. He isn't surprised to see me now, even if he can't see my ears.

"Davison." I grin and drop my hand. "You look dashing." What's happening? I've never used the word dashing a day in my whole Saints damned life. It's true, though. He's dressed in his own Burgundy suit with a white undershirt and a skinny black tie.

"Not hardly." He