Violet purple was ready to party.
Right now, she stood in front of the mirror staring at the reflection.
The dress she wore was sinfully short. A black, body-hugging thing that clung to her like it had been stitched onto her skin. The neckline dipped so low Violet had no doubt she would have all the boy’s attention till the night was over.
Tonight wasn’t for soft tones or sweet girl energy. Tonight was for setting fire. So she painted her lips in a dangerous, blood-red hue, the kind of red that said kiss me and bleed.
Her eyeliner was bold, with the eyeshadow smudged to smoky perfection. Her hair was then curled, the ends a vibrant violet that shimmered under the light and she ran her fingers through the waves and let them fall however they pleased.
Violet then grabbed her leather jacket from the bed — cropped and snug with silver buckles that jingled when she moved — and threw it over her shoulders. It was just to ward off the chill that would settle in the garden outside, and not because she needed it. Her blood was already running hot.
Violet had an agenda for tonight and there was no backing down. With one last glance at the mirror, she smiled. Let the party begin.
She left.
Violet stepped out into the garden and paused.
Well, damn. Her men can’t stop surprising her.
The entire garden had been transformed into a party space that screamed elite rebellion. Strings of soft golden lights crisscrossed overhead, tangling through the trees. The scent of night blooms lingered in the air blending with the low thrum of music vibrating through hidden outdoor speakers.
The grass had been trimmed perfectly, and was almost too soft to walk on, while scattered around the space were circular fire pits, each ringed with couches and velvet cushions that looked sinfully soft. This was all shades of casual opulence, and if Violet wasn’t careful, she might just melt into one of those and disappear for the rest of the night
And then there were the games.
Violet had no idea now it was possible but there was a large Twister mat that would definitely contain all four of the alphas if they decided to play together. Well, they would. They can’t bring something this interesting and decide not to play.
A long drink table was set to the side with bottles of drinks on it. There were wine, cocktails, sodas, beer and whatever else they ordered. Yep, they were getting wasted tonight.
At the far end of the garden was a raised wooden platform wrapped in silver streamers and hanging vines serving as a makeshift dance floor. The lights there pulsed to the beat of the music thrumming low from the trees. Roman had already claimed a corner, moving in a lazy rhythm and taking the role of the DJ.
Violet smiled and then stepped off the stone path and into the grass, her heels sinking just a little as she moved towards him.
Laughter echoed from somewhere off to the side, followed by Alaric’s familiar voice cursing loudly. Something about the drink being "too damn strong," and Griffin being "the worst bartender in history."
Violet smiled at the camaraderie in the air. She had a feeling this night was going to be a blast.
She hadn’t even stepped fully into the party yet when Roman saw her and froze mid-dance.
It was comical though, one second, he was dancing carelessly under the garden lights and the next, he was stock-still, his gaze locked on her like she’d just walked out of his wet dream.
Roman’s smoldering stare tracked her every step as she climbed the wooden stairs leading to the platform where he stood. She didn’t look away, and neither did he.
By the time Violet reached him, Roman’s breath was already heavy.
"You walk like sin dressed in silk," he said in a low voice, the corner of his mouth lifting like he couldn’t help himself.
"And you stare like you want to be punished for it," Violet answered cheekily, her eyes glinting.
That was all it took.
Roman grabbed her waist and pulled her in, and she met him halfway, their mouths crashing together in a kiss that was all tongue, and heat. Roman kissed her like he meant to consume her, his hands exploring the curve of her back and her waist, unable to help himself. He wanted more. But unfortunately, this was all he could have for now.
They were still kissing when the others arrived.
"Typical Roman," Alaric drawled from below, his voice full of mocking judgment. "Can’t hold his damn—"
But then Violet looked up and stopped talking at once.
"Holy hell," Griffin whistled. "Hot mama."
Even Asher’s mouth fell open, his gaze dragging down the line of her legs to the plunging neckline and back up again. Who chose that cloth from the start?
Violet smiled, knowing exactly what she’d done. It had been her intention from the start and it was nice to know it was working.
She reached up, and used her thumb to graze Roman’s lips, wiping off the red smear of her lipstick.
Then, without a word, she descended the stairs.
Asher was first in line. So she walked straight up to him and kissed him slowly, her hand cupping the back of his neck. He didn’t move at first, but the tension in his jaw gave him away.
The next was Griffin and she kissed him playfully yet brief, but still enough to leave him grinning.
Finally, she reached Alaric.
His hands were on her before she even leaned in. He kissed her like he had something to prove, like the wait had been eating him alive. And Violet let him.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Alaric groaned. "You really want to kill us, don’t you?"
Violet smirked, stepping back with a wink.
"It’s a party, isn’t it?"
She spun once, her dress catching in the breeze. "Let’s get it started."