A pulse of heat surges through me, and I instinctively bristle, ready to tell him off. “Are you serious?” I demand. This guy must be a creep; there’s no way he can be serious.
But then, he looks off to the side, and I follow his gaze to the clear bin beside him—overflowing with an array of colorful panties from other partygoers. “Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t make the rules.” He smiles, leveling his obsidian eyes with mine.
“Don’t call me sweetheart.” I roll my eyes, my heart thundering in my chest and my gut twisting in annoyance -- only the Chessmen would want every girl at this party commando. With a slight shimmy, I tug my cute white satin underwear with a dainty bow in the front, the sexiest underwear I own, down my thighs and over my boots.
I feel ridiculous and angry as I drop the delicate fabric into the bin with an exaggerated sigh, shooting the guard with a sarcastic look of compliance.
“There, happy?” I snarl, trying to mask the wave of vulnerability threatening to wash over me.
The guard’s grin widens as he moves out of our way, “Enjoy, ladies.”
“You didn’t ask for my underwear,” Jasmine narrows her eyes on him and places both hands on her hips.
The guard shoots both eyebrows up in confusion and looks around him as if she isn’t talking to him. “Girl, I can tell by your face if anyone touches you, you will stab them.”
Jasmine’s grin sharpens, transforming her delicate features into something fierce and predatory. She laces her fingers through mine, squeezing tightly. “And you’d be absolutely correct!” She shoots back, her voice laced with playful menace. “Aren’t you observant?”
Jasmine tugs me forward, and we step into the chaotic whirlwind of the party; the air is heavy with laughter, alcohol, and music. The moment we cross the threshold, I’m hit by a wave of noise and color, overwhelming my senses.
A group of our peers swirls around us, their bodies glistening under the vibrant lights, some already stumbling under the weight of drinks in their hands.
A couple nearby is locked in a passionate kiss, oblivious to the world, with their trash bags ripped open, exposing both girls’ breasts, while naked acrobats twist through the air above, defying gravity in their silks.
“Welcome to the jungle,” Jasmine whispers in my ear as she scans the room, rocking back on the heels of her feet.
My mind races as I assess the opulence surrounding us. Gold-plated fixtures shine like beacons, and clusters of expensive bottles are lining tables draped in silk. Art pieces worth thousands hang on the walls, and the laughter and chatter of Thornhaven’s elite fill the air.
But I can’t focus on the luxury right now; I need to think strategically. My eyes dart around the room, searching for the perfect item to steal—something that would fetch at least twenty grand, enough to keep our house from foreclosing. Just one thing, and I can figure out the rest later.
“Let’s do a lap and see what I can grab,” I whisper to Jasmine, suddenly distracted by the two girls grinding on each other.
“Just don’t get caught,” she warns, her voice low. “The Chessmen are going to be around here somewhere, and if they catch you…”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get there,” I retort, trying to shake off the rising anxiety. I’m so close to saving my father and pulling us out of this mess. I just need to be smart about it.
Jasmine pulls me deeper into the crowd, and I can’t help but marvel at the sheer absurdity of the party. A group of girls flits by in elaborate dresses made of bubble wrap, giggling as they bounce on their heels. The pulsating music seeps into my bones, blending with the energy of the people around me, and for a brief moment, I almost forget why I’m here.
“Look at that,” Jasmine whispers, tilting her head to the right where an ornate silver vase is perched atop a marble pedestal near the entrance. It glimmers tantalizingly in the light, and I can already envision the price tag it must carry.
“That’s a steal-worthy piece. But it’s too exposed. Anyone could see us lift it.” I huff, continuing to survey the room. I need to go upstairs to the jewelry, something small like a watch that I will probably have to hide between my butt cheeks, but it’ll be worth it. Right when I am going to turn to Jasmine and tell her, that’s when I see the first Chessman, Juan “Cast” Castillo.
Cast stands across the room, a figure carved from shadows and light, his emerald-green eyes glinting like polished gemstones. The flickering party lights catch the glitter dusted across his bare chest, making him shimmer like an earth bound god. He moves with an effortless grace, his body coiling and uncoiling like a serpent ready to strike, each motion smooth and deliberate as he dances.
His tousled and wild brown hair frames his chiseled features, drawing attention to his high cheekbones and the mischievous glint in his eyes. A playful smirk dances on his lips; one that looks inviting and sweet. He’s dressed in a daring ensemble that barely conceals his toned physique—just a few strategically placed foil patches, duct tape, and an ornate belt hanging low on his hips.
The chaos of the party swirls around him--his presence demanding attention as if he’s the sun and everyone else are mere planets caught in his orbit. I can feel myself drawn to him like prey to the colorful trance of their predator.
As soon as our gazes connect, everything else blurs out of focus. My heart races in my chest, and I can almost feel the electricity crackling between us. His intense stare bores into me, sparking a tingling sensation that runs through my body. He is no longer smiling, and my stomach drops, knowing that I am the reason he doesn’t look so carefree anymore.
I pull my gaze away and whisper into Jasmine’s ear. “I’ll distract the crowd. You keep an eye out for the guards and the Chessmen. If anything goes sideways, bail.”
Jasmine raises an eyebrow. “Don’t get in trouble, Will, promise?”
“Trouble is just another word for opportunity,” I smirk as I grab a shot off of a passing waiter’s tray and down it, flashing her a huge grin. “Make sure Cast doesn’t follow me.”
Vincent
She locks eyes with Cast,but I saw her first. Willow Cater, in my house, wearing four cereal boxes that barely cover her breasts and definitely don’t cover her ass. I must thank Cast for his no-underwear rule; it’ll make what I want to do to her so much easier.
