I realize as I look at my opulent surroundings, that this place is Raph’s home. I mean, of course, the Evenstar palace is just as decadent, but I still don’t really consider that as mine and I sure as hell didn’t grow up there. The thought only makes me realize all the more that Raph did the right thing by cutting things off before they could even start. Things are better this way, because we both know that nothing could ever come of whatever that was between us.
I willingly take Devon’s arm, as he leads me to the dance floor and at the same time, I see Raph lead Layla in a waltz. I follow Devon’s lead, holding my palm out to meet his and my hand touches his at exactly the same moment as Raph’s hand closes around Layla’s.
I try to focus on Devon as we dance together and considering my inexperience with any kind of waltzing, he does a great job of leading us through it. But my gaze travels to Raph and Layla more than once. I’m not the only one though, because everyone is watching them. Together, they shine brighter than all the gold and jewels surrounding them. The future king of Eden and his queen. I can’t bear the sight of it, but at the same time, I can’t look away.
My stomach twists irrationally at the sight of Layla’s hand in his and his hand resting on her perfectly curved hip. Raph’s face is like stone, his eyes shuttered—the face of the heir to the throne of Eden.
After a few more beats, the pairs on the dance floor shift and I find herself passing from the safety of Devon’s arms to Raph’s.
Something like fear races down my spine and I can feel the slight tremor in my hand as he takes it in his. His touch is devastatingly gentle on the bare skin at the small of my back, and I’m all too aware of the way his fingers flex as he draws me closer. The contact of his bare skin on mine at such a sensitive spot, is almost too much to bear.
I can feel how equally affected Raph is in the way that his breath hitches as he draws closer, seeming to inhale the very scent of me, in the running stag clamor of his heartbeat against my own.
Neither of us speaks as Raph leads us through the dance, but when my eyes lock onto his, I can see the way they darken as they travel over every inch of my face, drinking in the sight of me.
Everywhere our bodies touch, I feel the fire. His powerfully muscled body presses against mine and I feel my body respond, as if it has a mind of its own. Heat pools deep in my core and I feel something primal and raw course through me.
The traitorous feelings are insane and wrong in every sense of the word. Looking at someone like this, feeling these sensations, mean something and I shouldn’t be allowing it to happen.
Raph raises a hand to my face, as if helplessly drawn. His fingertips are gentle on my cheek, barely a ghost of a touch, but I feel it in every part of me.
“What are you doing?” My voice is a ragged whisper and I’m barely able to speak.
He closes his eyes, and touches his forehead to mine.
“I don’t know.” He repeats those words, and it’s enough to draw me out of the trance. I’m aware of my surroundings again and I can see that people are starting to stare. Devon is frowning as he watches us, and Layla looks like she’s about to walk over here and pull us apart.
There are another pair of eyes on me, too, which I don’t recognize, but I think I’ve seen once before. I look over to the edge of the dance floor and find a man with blonde hair, a few shades lighter than Raph’s and amber eyes looking over at us. His expression is neutral, but I sense the displeasure in the depths of those eyes. I can’t place that face, but his attire tells me that he is one of the Dynasty heads. The realization comes to me then that he’s Raph’s father. I recognize him because not only does he share some of Raph’s handsome features and imposing stature, I also recall that veiled look of disapproval from that first ceremony.
I look away from the man and gathering what control I have left, I turn to Raph and step away from him.
“This isn’t a good idea,” I manage to say, although I can hear the tremor in my own voice.
I don’t wait for Raph to respond as I walk away from him and find a quiet corner of the hall to gather my thoughts.
I’m not alone for long though.
“Jazmine, it’s a pleasure to see you again, and settled into Regency Mount so well.” I turn to find Raph’s father in front of me. His tone is pleasant enough, but his words seem oddly hollow.
“Jethro St. Tristan,” he says, holding out his hand. I take it after a moment, although I can feel the levels of discomfort rising inside me. I find myself thinking about that day on the cliff and Raph telling me about his mother’s depression which eventually took her life. How his father, this man standing before me now, hid it, was ashamed of it and cared more about his Dynasty than his own wife. The thought of it makes me sick and it’s a struggle to take his hand without letting the disgust show on my face.
“We didn’t get to speak properly at the presentation ceremony, but you’ve met my son, Raphael St. Tristan? I see you two seem to have gotten to know each other quickly.”
I blink at his words, because I know that they aren’t what they seem.
“Yeah, he’s in some of my classes and of course, we both live at Sovereign Hall.”
“Yes, so you will have seen how unruly he is.”
I stare at him in surprise.
“I’m not sure what you mean …” I reply, tentatively.
“Oh, I think you do. I have eyes everywhere when it concerns my Dynasty.”
I feel a chill race down my spine.
“I’m well aware of my son’s indiscretions—the girls, the partying, the unruly behavior.
“Most of it is his way of rebelling against me. But it won’t last long—Raphael is going to be the king of Eden, his life has been planned for him since the day he was born. He was raised for the throne. His life has purpose, meaning, in a way that you wouldn’t understand.”
I feel insulted by that, although I know the words are true. My life so far has been a meaningless blur, I can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to have it all planned out for me the way Raph does. But I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing anymore.
“I must admit that the motion to bring Arwen’s secret heir to Eden was not one that I initially supported. You are half human after all, and being raised on Earth with your background—well, one could only conclude that you wouldn’t belong here in Eden, let alone be suited to the life of an heir to a sovereign Dynasty.”
His tone is diplomatic, but his words are cutting all the same, and I can feel myself bristling.
“But I don’t suppose it matters, because nothing will change the fact that Raphael is next in line to the throne, wouldn’t you agree, Jazmine?”
“Yeah, of course—why would anything change that?” I look back at him in confusion, because I have no idea what he’s trying to say.
Before he can respond, I feel Raph’s presence.
“Father,” he says. He’s wearing that shuttered expression again.
“Raphael. Always a pleasure to see you, my son.”
Raph nods stiffly and I feel a strange tension in the air between him and his father. Everything is so formal, so emotionless.