Page 62 of In Darkness We Claim

“You look fucking amazing, Harps. I can’t wait to see the look on Lawson’s face when he sees you like that,” she laughs with a knowing smile.

I roll my eyes, and a flush crawls up my neck, warming my cheeks with an embarrassing heat. “It’s not like that with him. I don’t care if he likes how I look or not.” I don’t know if I’m trying to convince myself or Wren.

She shakes her head at me; her smile never wavering. “Of course, you don’t. I mean, he’s only one of the hottest guys on campus, who you have tied yourself to for a year. Why the hell would you want him to find you attractive?”

I dismiss her sarcasm with a wave of my hand, not trusting myself to reply with words. The truth is…I want him to like me, to be attracted to me. I’ll never be anything more than just his Prize, and I’m fine with that—at least, I think I am—but that doesn’t mean I can’t hope for something…more. It would be amazing if he didn’t hate me, and was maybe just a little attracted to me.

Thankfully, my phone distracts us both from the conversation, and I reach over to the bedside table to grab it. Seeing Lawson’s name appear on the caller ID sends a jolt through me, my pulse quickening as I hit the answer button. “Hello.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes. Take a deep breath, and don’t change a fucking thing. You look amazing,” he says before hanging up.

My brow furrows in confusion, and I question how the hell he knows I’m freaking out, or that I’m considering changing to put on something more ‘me’.

“What did he say?” Wren asks.

“He’ll be here in five minutes. He also told me not to change.”

She lets out a short laugh as she pushes in front of me to get closer to the mirror, applying her deep purple lipstick. “He definitely knows you well already.”

“I don’t know… It sounded like more than that,” I try to explain, but I barely know what I’m saying, so there’s no way Wren will understand.

She turns around to face me, twisting from side to side with a bright smile on her face as her skirt flows out around her. “What do you think? How do I look? Do I look like I go undercover all the time?”

As she reminds me of the reason we’re doing all of this in the first place, I let out a long groan. I have no idea what going undercover entails, but I’m certain I will not enjoy it. I’ve been a nervous wreck since Lawson told me about the plan, convinced I’m going to mess up and ruin things for him. He’s earned his title of High Crow, and I’d hate to be the reason he loses his perfect standing.

I push those thoughts from my mind, otherwise I’ll spiral, and focus instead on Wren. She looks as beautiful as she always does, and for a fraction of a second, I’m jealous of how easily it comes to her.

She knows exactly what to wear to emphasise all the best parts of her body, and hide the areas she’s not keen on. And her talent with makeup is second to none, with her ability to adapt it to every situation, whilst still maintaining her flair.

She’s wearing a black skater-style short skirt that flares out when she twirls, along with fishnet stockings that are held up by a garter, which is just visible beneath the hem. Her clunky black wedge boots give her the extra height she needs, while still adding to her edgy look.

Her short, white crop-top stretches tightly over her large breasts, making it very obvious she’s not wearing a bra, and it puts her impressive natural cleavage on display, thanks to the low-scooping neckline. Its shortness exposes most of her stomach, revealing her pierced belly button and her curves.

Wren reaches over and grabs a large, baggy plaid shirt, which she pulls on over the top like a jacket, covering up most of the skin that was on display, whilst adding to her grungy vibes. Her dark, almost vamp-like makeup only adds to her style, completing her look.

Her short jet-black hair is straight and sleek, curled under slightly at the ends to make her bob-cut appear more subtle. Under certain lights, the black colour shines almost purple, complementing her tanned skin.

“You look amazing,” I tell her, hoping she can hear the sincerity in my voice. Though it’s not like she needs to hear a compliment from me, she’s not at all insecure about her looks.

Before she can utter a word, the solid wood of my bedroom door slams open with a bang, making us both jump. My heart leaps into my throat, a jolt of surprise running through me, as I could have sworn I locked it. Lawson’s imposing figure fills the doorway, before he strides in with an arrogant confidence that seems to suck the oxygen from the room, leaving me breathless.

He keeps his eyes on me while talking to Wren. “Go down to the car, Wren. Bram is waiting there. We’ll be down in a second.”

She hesitates, her gaze flicking between Lawson and me, clearly unsure whether she should follow his order. She doesn’t like being told what to do, which is why she’s glaring at Lawson like she’s considering stabbing him in the eye.

I give her a reassuring smile—at least, I hope that’s how it looks—as I tell her, “It’s fine. Go to the car; I’ll meet you there shortly.”

She gives me a small nod, before turning her fiery glare on Lawson. I’m actually a little impressed that he doesn’t cower under the weight of her stare. In fact, his expression doesn’t alter at all, and his gaze never wavers from me.

Wren turns on her heels, and with a loud, exaggerated huff, she grabs her bag and storms out of the door, muttering about how Lawson is paying for all of her drinks tonight, whether he likes it or not. I can’t help but laugh at my feisty friend.

Wren didn’t grow up knowing about the Obsidian Order, and as she’s never really experienced any of their members, she hasn’t developed the healthy fear that women raised around Order members have. I, personally, hope she always remains ignorant of the power they wield, as I don’t want my friend to change, and being exposed to the Order changes everyone, whether they want it to or not.

As soon as the door slams shut behind Wren, Lawson stalks over to me, only stopping when he’s so close I can feel his breath fluttering over me. He then takes a small step back, and very slowly drags his gaze down the length of my body, leaving a trail of heat across my skin where his eyes have been.

I use the time to do a little ogling of my own, taking in the too-hot-for-his-own-good man who is standing in front of me. He’s wearing dark jeans that cling to his thighs in the most delicious way, and he’s paired them with biker boots that make him look every bit as dangerous as he is.

For the first time, he’s not wearing his usual tight T-shirt, and has opted for a black button-down shirt instead. The way the material stretches over his muscles leaves nothing to the imagination, showing off how ripped he is in all the right places. And I hate to admit it, but the way he’s rolled the sleeves up, showing off the veins in his sculpted arms…it does something to me that I never expected.