Read Online A Betty's Pledge: Volume One by Emma Husher - Free Book Online
Authors: Emma Husher
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gaze found his.
I took the small opportunity to really look at him then, stealing a hidden minute
to be the appraiser instead of the assessed. His hair was a light shade of brown with
subtle hints of gold illuminated by the faint lights from the tree he sat beneath.
His figure looked tall and thin, shaped with balanced muscle over a manly build. I
couldn’t really see his face, for the lights only illuminated parts of him, leaving
the rest a decadent mystery.
I tried to maintain an uncaring illusion, seeming preoccupied with the festivities
and random guests of the evening. The reality was that he’d captured my attention
since the moment I’d seen him sitting under the white-lit tree, his probing eyes fixed
intently in my direction.
As we sat, in a heated mating dance, chasing each other shrewdly, my heart began to
race. I would steal covert glances toward him, trying to confirm if he was in fact
a Consort with the telltale black-stoned drink. But he sat there empty-handed, occasionally
rubbing his large hands down his black pants as if he was itching to touch something
else.
I could only hope that it was me his fingertips yearned for.
I was expecting him to come to me, wanting him to introduce himself as the other Consorts
had done, but I figured he must’ve liked to do things a little differently. Maybe
he liked to watch me for a little while, knowing I would realize he was assessing
his Betty and liking how he made me squirm under his steady perusal. Little did he
know that I flourished under that kind of heat; like a hothouse plant, I bloomed and
rose to the occasion, making slight changes in my body language to entice him further
toward me.
He became distracted for a moment, talking to someone who’d sat down next to him on
the white couch beneath the tree. I watched him talk for a minute or two, trying to
decipher him a little further as he indulged in a light conversation.
“You must be a new Pledge,” a man said beside me. I turned to see an older gentleman
with dark black hair pulled together at his neck and tied back with a piece of leather.
He wore a black tuxedo in a James Bond style, very elegant and regal. His eyes were
a sharp, crisp blue and his features were distinguishingly attractive for his age.
“Yes, I am.”
“Can I get you another drink?” he asked with a nod toward the bartender.
“Oh, no thank you. I have one already and I have to pace myself.”
“Yes,” he agreed with a small chuckle. “Wouldn’t want you to get too crazy and out
the Grants in a room filled with Alumni and their unsuspecting guests.”
“Are you . . .”
The man held up a flute of champagne, a purple stone floating on the bottom.
“Yes, I’m Alumni. It was many moons ago that I graced these halls with my elegant
charms.” He moved his arms in a grand gesture, making me giggle at his antics.
“I’m Adam Vance,” he introduced himself, and something in my mind sparked in recognition
at that name. I held my hand out to his to shake, but he grasped it lightly and placed
a soft kiss atop it. “I am one of the original founders, and I see that some traditions
are still hard at work.” He gestured toward my scantily clad body. “Although, you
do look magnificent, my dear.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, feeling my blush color my face slightly. Adam chuckled under
his breath, gazing at me in a sort of revered way. It would have been really creepy
to have some unknown old dude gaze at me like that, but he was really good looking
so it kind of offset the awkwardness of it.
“Have you met all your suitors this evening?”
“Um, you mean the Consorts?” I became slightly confused by his terminology. He laughed
boisterously.
“Is that what he’s calling them nowadays? That man . . .”
I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I just nodded numbly in reply.
“I don’t think I’ve met them all, no,” I replied, taking
I took the small opportunity to really look at him then, stealing a hidden minute
to be the appraiser instead of the assessed. His hair was a light shade of brown with
subtle hints of gold illuminated by the faint lights from the tree he sat beneath.
His figure looked tall and thin, shaped with balanced muscle over a manly build. I
couldn’t really see his face, for the lights only illuminated parts of him, leaving
the rest a decadent mystery.
I tried to maintain an uncaring illusion, seeming preoccupied with the festivities
and random guests of the evening. The reality was that he’d captured my attention
since the moment I’d seen him sitting under the white-lit tree, his probing eyes fixed
intently in my direction.
As we sat, in a heated mating dance, chasing each other shrewdly, my heart began to
race. I would steal covert glances toward him, trying to confirm if he was in fact
a Consort with the telltale black-stoned drink. But he sat there empty-handed, occasionally
rubbing his large hands down his black pants as if he was itching to touch something
else.
I could only hope that it was me his fingertips yearned for.
I was expecting him to come to me, wanting him to introduce himself as the other Consorts
had done, but I figured he must’ve liked to do things a little differently. Maybe
he liked to watch me for a little while, knowing I would realize he was assessing
his Betty and liking how he made me squirm under his steady perusal. Little did he
know that I flourished under that kind of heat; like a hothouse plant, I bloomed and
rose to the occasion, making slight changes in my body language to entice him further
toward me.
He became distracted for a moment, talking to someone who’d sat down next to him on
the white couch beneath the tree. I watched him talk for a minute or two, trying to
decipher him a little further as he indulged in a light conversation.
“You must be a new Pledge,” a man said beside me. I turned to see an older gentleman
with dark black hair pulled together at his neck and tied back with a piece of leather.
He wore a black tuxedo in a James Bond style, very elegant and regal. His eyes were
a sharp, crisp blue and his features were distinguishingly attractive for his age.
“Yes, I am.”
“Can I get you another drink?” he asked with a nod toward the bartender.
“Oh, no thank you. I have one already and I have to pace myself.”
“Yes,” he agreed with a small chuckle. “Wouldn’t want you to get too crazy and out
the Grants in a room filled with Alumni and their unsuspecting guests.”
“Are you . . .”
The man held up a flute of champagne, a purple stone floating on the bottom.
“Yes, I’m Alumni. It was many moons ago that I graced these halls with my elegant
charms.” He moved his arms in a grand gesture, making me giggle at his antics.
“I’m Adam Vance,” he introduced himself, and something in my mind sparked in recognition
at that name. I held my hand out to his to shake, but he grasped it lightly and placed
a soft kiss atop it. “I am one of the original founders, and I see that some traditions
are still hard at work.” He gestured toward my scantily clad body. “Although, you
do look magnificent, my dear.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, feeling my blush color my face slightly. Adam chuckled under
his breath, gazing at me in a sort of revered way. It would have been really creepy
to have some unknown old dude gaze at me like that, but he was really good looking
so it kind of offset the awkwardness of it.
“Have you met all your suitors this evening?”
“Um, you mean the Consorts?” I became slightly confused by his terminology. He laughed
boisterously.
“Is that what he’s calling them nowadays? That man . . .”
I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I just nodded numbly in reply.
“I don’t think I’ve met them all, no,” I replied, taking
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