Rille (Tribes, Book 2)

Chapter 27

Brielle didn't like the witch's attitude toward her or Preston. Nor did she like the evil gaze that had happened at the exact moment that Preston said he would drink on Brielle's behalf. It felt too much like a double-bluff. Like Ava had offered the drink to Brielle, but she wanted Preston to be the one drinking it.

So, in usual Brielle fashion, Brielle had chosen to be an idiot.

So far, no terrible poisonous side effects. They would see how the evening progressed.

"It's disappointing, Preston, that you do not care enough about your family's promises to follow through." Artur shot the words like bullets, but not one seemed to hit Preston.

Brielle liked that about him. His stamina.

Okay, girl, no need to phrase it weirdly. Get your mind out of the gutter and move on. Brielle inhaled sharply through her nose which, in hindsight, sounded more like annoyance than a breath meant to pull herself together.

Preston didn't say a word about it, instead answering the accusation thrown at him. "Neither I nor my father ever made any promises to the Bowyer family regarding a marriage. It was discussed once, and to my understanding the idea was discarded altogether."

Good God, Preston was hot when he lectured greedy people.

Okay, so she really needed to pull it together. Spending the last couple days with Preston—specifically the making-out-with-him portions—had really made her into a nymphomaniac.

"I think this subject will need to be addressed at a later date, not at such an auspicious occasion." Artur set aside the argument he was clearly losing.

Brielle reached up on tiptoe to be closer to Preston's ear. "In my opinion, you won that argument, hubby."

Preston gave her a strange look, as if she were out of her mind, but he nodded his thanks nonetheless.

Artur didn't pay attention to their interaction, he moved forward with his own agenda. "Why don't you and I greet the people so the party can start. Shall we?"

"Walk with me. I don't want to leave you alone." Preston's fingertips glanced against the small of Brielle's back.

The jolt of electricity that ran through her spine and out over her limbs was no joke. People had probably died from less voltage. How was she supposed to say no when her whole body had turned to mush?

Though she would never know how she did it since her legs were literally Jell-O, Brielle managed to shuffle along beside Preston, toward the center of the room. Artur had set a stage there, not tall but enough to be noticed. Talk about an attention hog.

Although... Preston on a stage, in the limelight, sounded scrumptious.

Brielle stumbled to a stop. What was wrong with her? She had been calm and logical—for the most part—since this whole crazy ordeal began. Why couldn't she control the raunchy thoughts springing into her mind?

"You doing okay?" Preston asked.

Brielle nodded, but she wasn't entirely sure about it. Something seemed wrong, but she couldn't place it. An intuition with no solid evidence to back it up.

Preston's fingers grazed the back of her head, a reassuring gesture that she had grown used to from him. "I'll be just a moment."

"Yep." Brielle took another deep breath, whether to still her angst or calm her anxiety she no longer knew. She only knew that when she breathed in, she could smell Preston's scent. And it was intoxicating.