Dark Queen - Ker Dukey Page 0,36

when I came here. Dance was supposed to be my only focus—put every part of me into perfecting my form, learn all I can, and use it to give myself a better life.

I’m messing all that up because of a man who has infected me. I feel him burning me up from inside, the static humming in my veins. It’s driving me crazy.

He’s a fever taking over my insides. I need to stamp him out, flush him from my system.

The way he dismissed me with a warning coaxed the darkness inside me to rise up. Tomorrow, I’ll give him what he gives me: a cold indifference.

I find Jewel in the kitchen when I make it back to our dorm.

Leaving without Simon meant I had to walk on already tired legs. I just want some food and sleep.

“Hey,” she says, immediately putting me on alert.

“Hey?” I frown, watching her from my periphery.

Laura lingers by her side like a wart on Jewel’s ass.

“So, you’re working at Vino’s?” Jewel says, dunking a teabag in a cup of boiling water.

She calls it skinny tea. It’s supposed to be some magic drink that helps you lose weight. The girl is one pound away from death. She can’t afford to lose more.

“That’s right. Why?” I blow out a breath, hoping the news about today’s drama hasn’t already reached them.

Laura lets out an obnoxious giggle, and I go on high alert. This isn’t just a general conversation. An insult or something is coming.

“We were wondering if you could get us a table there?” Jewel twists one side of her mouth in an attempt at a sweet smile.

It’s not what I was expecting. “You and Laura?” I pull the premade salad I bought yesterday from the fridge and grab a fork.

“No,” Jewel screws up her face, looking over at Laura like it’s a ludicrous thing to think she’d have dinner with her friend.

“Nathanial and I.” She smiles, her lips thin and cheekbones almost tearing through the skin. “I want him to see you waiting on us—how it should be,” she jeers.

Little bitch.

“I’m sorry,” I look her up and down, “Vino’s only serves clientele of a certain class. Mr. Leto does, however, have a strip club you’d be perfect for.” I plaster on my most serene smile and push her cup of tea off the counter, spilling a drink for the third time today.

They both screech as the hot water splashes their feet and legs.

“You bitch!” Jewel yelps. “We know all about Mr. Leto and his strippers. He likes to fuck them and they wind up dead.

Better hope you don’t end up on his pole. Or, better yet, you do.” She crosses her arms, the edge in her voice harsh and bitter.

Stab her in the eye with your fork.

Before I can react, a female voice drifts in from the foyer. “Jewel, my office. Now.” The house mother’s timing just saved Jewel an eye.

Red-faced and like a child, Jewel stomps away, leaving Laura standing there on her own. It’s odd to watch her wilt in the darkness I cast.

Her shoulders drop, face paling. “Night, Laura,” I say in a velvet murmur, holding up my middle finger for only her to see.

Closed in my room, I abandon the salad and throw myself down on the bed. Jewel’s spiteful words spin around in my head.

Was that girl who died his only lover, or did he have a habit of fucking the strippers the way Jewel implied? How would she even know any of that?

Reaching under my pillow, I bring the small figurine to my lower stomach and push her sharp feet into my flesh, gasping to contain the pain of the burn and relief of the cut. I need to bleed out the darkness.

A violent voice fights my mind for control. If Jewel slipped in the shower one day, I doubt anyone would be shocked. They’d say she probably fainted from hunger.

No. No. No.

Grabbing my phone, I wince. Clint has texted and called again today.

Letting out a sigh, I hit call, hoping he doesn’t pick up.

My hope is dashed by the third ring.

“Hello?” he chimes down the line, a pitch of surprise in his tone.

“It’s me,” I say, gaining an answering chuckle.

“I know it’s you, silly.” I turn onto my side, squeezing the ballerina in my grip. “It’s so good to hear your voice,” he croons, sounding nervous.

A female voice in the background groans for him to come back, and the ruffling tells me he’s moving.

“Who’s that?” I ask, both intrigued and