Bluestone Elites (A Paranormal Bully Academy Romance)

by Klarissa King

  “A lucky escape,” I correct.

  Serena nods. “He’s cold, indifferent, and cruel. But he would make a decent husband.”

  I snort. “All his glowing traits tell you that?”

  “His wealth and status make up for more than enough.” She lingers a long look over me. “Dray is complex, but he is powerful, and fiercely loyal to his own. Those can be fine attributes in a husband.”

  My face is stone cold. “Yet none of those attributes make up for what he is.”

  Serena sighs, but she drops the matter. I’m not the right person to sing Dray’s praises to. I won’t have it. Nothing he is can compensate for his cruelties, his bullying and abuse of me over the years. He’s a prejudicial prat and nothing more. To me, at least.

  “Isn’t it lovely?” Serena asks after a while. We’re deep in the vineyard now, so deep that we can see the krum sea-side town in the distance, glittering lights seeming to dance on the sky, all purples and blues and reds.

  “Krums,” I mutter, watching the lights like a sailor watches a siren. Mesmerised. “I wonder what it’s like there.”

  Probably not any different to what it’s like in our towns and villages. Still, I yearn to slip away into those lights and never come back. Just fall away into the masses, undetected, and live out a life of freedom.

  But freedom, like I’ve said and know in my withering heart, is just not attainable. Not for me, not for Serena. No, we’ll marry men with hopes of friendship and little more.

  That’s our future.

  Chapter 14

  The harp in the corner of the drawing room plays a soft melody. But no one pays it any mind.

  Every elite family in Britain and Western Europe is in this grand drawing room, so extravagant it could pass as a ball room. It’s my favourite home away from home.

  To my surprise, Serena wanders the room with me. She’s stuck close to me at the chateau. Close enough that I’m starting to get a tad suspicious.

  “I’m sure she’ll find another suitor before the end of the year,” I answer the still hot-gossip about Melody. “The Debutante Ball will be her cauldron of potential fiancés. She shouldn’t worry so much.”

  I glance over at Melody, who pouts in the corner by the harp.

  Serena, with her arm hooped through mine, says, “It’s not that she’s worried about finding another partner, but that she found out who she came second to.”

  I don't look forward to going back to Bluestone.

  I sigh. “It’s not that she came second. It’s that Dray is an unpredictable psychopath, hell-bent on destroying me and my life.”

  Serena just hums in answer. We near our mothers by a long paneled window with a direct view to the human town on the beach. Their lights still glitter, as if inviting us.

  “Dray is Dray,” Amelia sighs gracefully. “Once he decides he wants something, he is determined to acquire it.”

  I take a champagne flute from a server’s tray.

  “He is ambitious,” my mother agrees, with a short look my way.

  We all know that I know who Dray is hunting, that he dropped Melody’s contract for mine, and that I despise him. But we haven’t spoken about it, not in person, not outside of angry letters.

  “Let us hope that he can repair the damage with the Green family,” mother adds and turns her gaze to the moody Melody.

  “It will all be forgotten in time,” Amelia dismisses. “New scandals will arise and Dray’s actions will no longer be the source of tension.”

  “As it happens,” Amelia says in a whisper, “I overheard Edward and Elizabeth—” Melody’s parents “—this morning. They are now considering previously rejected offers. They wish to discreetly shift the contract to another suitor, rather than face a public scandal.”

  My mother’s eyes glittered. “Who are they considering?”

  “Eric Digger,” says Amelia, and my heart plummets to my bottom. “Not exactly what I consider worthy or wealthy, but he has a secure position at Bluestone, and some property to his name.”

  All the colour drains out of my face. By the look on Amelia’s face, I can tell she doesn't know about me and Eric, but my mother does and she’s looking right at me, trying to sense my mood.

  Eric hasn’t done anything wrong by placing an offer on Melody’s contract. It was probably done long before we got together. And it’s not uncommon for offers to be sent out to multiple contracts. Still, knowing all of that doesn’t ease the cold twist in the pit of my stomach.

  Watching me, mother adds, “Eric has several offers on many contracts from over the years.”

  I lower my lashes at her. “Who doesn’t?” He cast his net wide. Before I got tangled in it, of course.

  “Yes, but dear, my sources tell me that Eric’s latest offer on Green’s contract was a mere two months ago.”

  I shake my head. “Rumours rot the soul. Isn’t that what you tell me?”

  “I tell you the truth.” Mother’s voice is firm.

  Amelia looks between us, understanding lighting up her gossip-hungry gaze. I clench my jaw, tight, and hide my scowl with a sip of champagne. It couldn’t possibly be true. Two months ago, I was being dry-fucked on his desk. Eric and I have been together since pretty much the start of the year at Bluestone.

  I’m pulled out of my thoughts as we’re approached by Dray, my father, and Issac. I notice the pity-look Serena wears for me. I snub it, having already given away too much. My secret relationship isn’t much of a secret anymore. Same goes for my engagement.

  Issac looks out the window at the glittering lights of the krum town. “Atrocious, isn’t it?” He shakes his head slightly. “Perfect views ruined by this filth.”

  This filth being krums.

  My father agrees with a nod. “We are considering planting taller trees around the border of the property to block out the lights.”

  “I like it,” I say. My grip on the flute tightens just a little as all dark stares turn on me. “It’s pretty,” I finish lamely. “I enjoy the lights.”

  “Pretty?” Dray echoes icily. “It’s an abomination.”

  “Krums,” starts Issac, the king of racism, “invade where they are not welcome. They intrude on the tranquility of the landscape, construct eyesores, and ruin an otherwise splendid view.”

  “Invade,” I choke out, a small, snide smile on my mouth. “It’s a village. It’s been here for centuries.”

  “Dear.” Mother places her hand on my arm. A warning.

  I shoot a scathing look at her. “Am I not allowed an opinion? Or is it that my opinion differs to theirs?”

  “You dare speak to your mother like that,” my father snaps, his voice a hiss of pure venom. “Perhaps you are feeling poorly, Olivia.”

  I make a face at my champagne flute. “I feel fine, actually. I think it’s just that some people can’t deal with a woman having an opinion.”

  “You are done for the night.” Father takes the flute from my grip. “Excuse yourself.”

  “Gladly,” I say with a false smile. Before I go, I snatch back my champagne, down it in one large gulp, then slam it down on the table so hard that a crack tears through the crystal glass.

  Surprisingly, as I storm out of the drawing room, Serena is hot on my heels.

  *

  “I’m so fucking sick of it!” I hit a crystal vase off the buffet table. “They look down on everyone! Not just krums, or half-breeds, everyone who isn’t an uptight male witch!”

  Serena lounges on the chaise sofa in my room. She nods along with my rantings, but she is distracted by her freshly manicured nails as she picks at them.

  “Olivia, don’t do this,” I mock my father. “Do this, sit up straight, don’t speak out of turn, don’t correct us, don’t have an opinion. Olivia, just sit there and look pretty, you’re wrong and we are always right.”

  I scoff before I let myself fall into an armchair. My face is scrunched up like paper in a fist.

  “I can’t believe you talked back like that,”
Serena laughs. “It was great. You might as well have told them to go fuck themselves.”

  I snort. “Think they picked up on that?”

  “The implication was heavy.”

  I groan, burying my face in my hands. “I'm in so much trouble.”

  “Was it worth it?” she asks sincerely.

  “I don't know.” I shrug. “It depends on my punishment.” At the thought, I get a cold reminder about Madame Bucher and her wicked cane. “The punishment will be hugeee.”

  “Then let's make sure it's worth it while we still can,” Serena smirks.

  I eye her suspiciously. I can think of no risk that’s worth the punishment of Madame Bucher.

  “How?” I ask.

  “Think big,” Serena grins, her gaze turning to the window. All I can see through it is the krum town glittering against the dark. “What if we could run away?”

  I swerve my startled stare to her, eyes wide. “What? You’re mad.”

  “No, I’m not.” She slowly rises to her feet and strolls over to the window. Her gaze is glossed-over, distant. “I just know what I want. And I want to be free.”

  Chapter 15

  I was woken up before dawn to Madame Bucher’s arrival at the chateau. I was forced to meet her in the ballroom.

  The rest of the chateau are still asleep, as it’s late sunrise outside. The sky is pink through the long, paneled windows.

  Welts sting my hands. They burn like the fires of hell on flesh, hot and angry. My face, however, remains stoic, emotionless. If I let so much as a crack of pain to break through, I’ll be belted again.

  “Straighten that spine, girl!” Madame Bucher snaps, and hits her crane on the hard, marble floor. “Chin up! Are you a commoner? A few months at that rag-tag school and you’re slouching like a krum!”

  I wince as she whacks the cane close to my bare feet. I follow her commands, straightening my back and raising my chin as I dance around the ballroom.

  The blasted hag is forcing me to dance, and dance, and dance, practicing the courting dance for the ninth time in a row. My feet ache, and I wonder if they will start to bleed soon. It’s happened before, in one of my countless lessons with the witch—one of my countless punishments.

  “Cease your silly daydreaming!” She hits the cane down again. “You look like a vacant fool!”

  A scowl breaks free, but it swiftly turns into a grimace as the cane meets my leg and I stifle a cry.

  “Control your facial expressions!” she shouts. “Excuse only poise and grace at all times!”

  Despite the searing pain on my leg, I soften my expression and force myself to dance—no, glide—around the room.

  I answer question after question as the hour slips into another, then another, and my muscles and bones throb with bone-deep aches. Father doesn’t come save me from Madame Butcher. She appears quite prepared to torture me until my feet do bleed. There’s no end of the lesson in sight, not until a servant comes to end the lesson at midday.

  All the while, I keep what Serena said last night in my mind. I use it as a rope of hope that I hold onto. It gets me through the lesson. After, I submerge myself in a hot bath for at least an hour.

  I have no interest in the rest of the day. I want to fantasise about a life on the run, a life I’m too afraid to pursue. But soon, night starts its crawl into the sky, and I must get ready for the Debutante Ball.

  It’s difficult to walk down the grand staircase, not because of the heaviness of my pink-ribboned ball gown, but because of the sores and bruises on my feet.

  The weight of my ball gown hardly helps, though. Its thick, heavy skirt drags me down at the waist. I place a hand on the bannister as I step down the stairs. At the best of times, I totter in heels, but now, I waddle like a penguin with a bag leg.

  The foyer of the chateau is packed with elites from all around Europe. They stand, watching the debutantes come down the stairs two at a time. Lolly is opposite me on the staircase, wearing a sunset-orange gown.

  From the crowd at the bottom, I spot Dray.

  I hate to admit it, but he looks breathtaking. Maybe breath-stealing is more fitting. His expensive black suit emphasises the marble-like paleness of his skin, his penetrative grey eyes shine like chandeliers that decorate the foyer. His hands are stuffed in his pockets as he pins my gaze.

  If I didn’t loathe him so much, I might have admitted to him being handsome.

  He stands with the rest of his family and mine.

  Once I reach the bottom of the stairs, I join a line of debutantes by the doors to the ballroom I was tortured in earlier, and wait for the others to come down. There’s twenty-nine of us. Melody comes down last because of her age. When she joins us, the debutantes lead the way into the ballroom. The guests follow.

  In the ballroom, a harmonious melody sings out from the band in the corner. We, the debutantes, open the night with a performance of the first dance. I’m glad when it’s over and I can slip away from the others.

  I find my family at the back of the ballroom with the Sinclair’s. I only just pick up a flute of champagne when Amelia suggests I dance with Dray.

  Dray sweeps the glass out of my hand almost as quickly as the second I held onto it, and he escorts me to the middle of the ballroom, where pairs waltz around.

  He pulls me against him. A shudder of repulsion runs up my spine to my stiff shoulders. I move with him robotically and keep distance between our frames.

  “Has your desired suitor arrived, yet?” he asks coolly.

  “You can say his name,” I mumble and roll my eyes. “We both know who he is.”

  “I’d prefer not to.” His voice is clipped before he twirls me around then holds me a bit closer. “When is he arriving?”

  “How is this any of your business?” Crowds make me brave. Well, crowds that stop him from retaliating, that is.

  Still, my gaze lingers over a nearby grandfather clock. Eric is cutting it close, since the courting dances start soon. He should be here already. He promised.

  “You are anxious,” Dray observes. His eyes are calculative. “Have a scheme in play?”

  I shoot him a bored look. “Like I’d tell you if I did. And we don’t need to talk, thanks.”

  "If we are not to speak, how can I inform you of your enchanting appearance tonight?" Dray drawls, quirking his brow.

  "Save it, Dray. You're not fooling me."

  "There is no need, when you are clearly preoccupied with fooling yourself."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" I snap, glowering up at the him.

  "You harbour futile hope that our contracts will be terminated," Dray mocks. "In every game we play, Olivia, I triumph. Why do you waste your energy in resisting it?"

  "My life is not a game," I hiss before he twirls me.

  He dips me. "Isn't it?"

  I snarl up at him before he pulls me back into a standing position.

  "Your lover is not coming, Olivia." He says icily. "He cares nothing for you."

  The laugh I bark is empty. "And you do?"

  "I value what is mine," Dray responds coolly.

  "I'll never be yours."

  The music ends briefly, the dances ending with it, before a slower melody begins to resound through the ballroom. Dray steps away from me, taking my hand in his and placing a soft kiss on my knuckles.

  "You have always been mine," Dray whispers dangerously.

  *

  Dread pools in my tummy. Eric is over an hour late, and by my father’s frequent glances at the clock, he knows it.

  He might be on his way this very moment. He might be approaching the grand doors of the chateau. It’s possible, right?

  He has just minutes to arrive and save me from the courting dance. I don’t doubt that Dray will sweep in to take his place if he doesn’t turn up. And even if he does turn up, I’ve been robbed of the hours of flaunting my boyfriend around the ballroom. That was a major part of my plan to show my father that my choice of husband is the right choice.


  “Where is your ribbon, dear?” Mother’s voice pulls me out of my worried thoughts.

  I look at her. “I don’t know.”

  Father’s eyes narrow on me. “You don’t know?”

  I shrug, ignoring the slight clench in Dray’s jaw. They know I’m lying. But if I reveal my ribbon, they will force me to offer it to Dray. It’s for Eric. When the bastard shows his face.

  Father waves his hand to summon over a servant. “My daughter seems to have misplaced her ribbon,” he says, “Retrieve it.”

  The servant bows before he disappears into the crowd. Anxiously, I watch him leave the ballroom. Hope he doesn’t find it.

  My foot starts to tap on the marble floor. I look at the grandfather clock again. It’s past ten. The courting dance will begin any minute now.

  “Are you nervous about the dance?” Amelia asks me, trying her hand at a soft, soothing tone. It doesn’t suit her icy self.

  “Oh, yeah. I mean yes. I am.”

  I’m nervous about performing it without Eric. Now that I think on it, I haven’t heard from him since the start of the break. I wonder if he got his days mixed up.

  “You have nothing to fear,” she says as gently as she can manage. Her voice is like a sanded-down sword. Smooth, but still sharp and deadly. “I am certain you will have practiced the dance well, and I look forward to your performance.”

  Yeah, I sure did practice it. With welts to show, marks from Madame Bucher’s cane and bruised feet.

  The music dies, and it seems sudden to me. In place of harps and violins, a voice calls out to the elites.

  The announcer spreads her arms, welcoming in the debutantes to the stage. “Please, welcome this year’s debutantes in their final ceremonial dance of the night.”

  I reluctantly follow her voice to the center of the stage. Dead silence fills the ballroom, broken only by the sound of heels clacking on the marble floor. I line up at the front with Serena. Melody scowls behind me. I make sure to keep an eye on her. She’ll probably try and trip me during the dance or something.