Asil’s Fifth Date Scheherazade #7
It was not new knowledge. It was just the first time he had applied it to himself.
“Asil?” Mari-Brigid whispered.
“It is nothing,” Asil said with a smile. “An old puzzle solved.”
The sound of bells drew everyone’s attention to the podium at that moment, so Mari-Brigid didn’t question him further. That was just as well because he would not have answered her.
The business of the night commenced. Speeches were made.
When it was Mari-Brigid’s turn to speak, Asil escorted her to the microphone.
As she was representing her husband, he kept to very formal manners, leaving nothing for anyone to object to.
Except, perhaps, an observant person might note the predatory focus he kept upon her.
He was sure that at least some of their watchers were very observant.
Asil let a satisfied smile touch his lips, knowing that also would be seen.
Eventually the talking was finished. A group of instrumentalists started setting up on the stage, everything from electric piano to violin and cornet. Tables were cleared away, chairs moved into groupings against the walls, the floor opened for dancing.
“Are you staying for dancing?” asked the older woman who had been sitting to Mari-Brigid’s left.
“Doesn’t she always?” said the bored young man next to her. Asil had thought that he was her son, but gradually he’d realized that he was the older woman’s newest husband.
“Yes,” Mari-Brigid said. “Please excuse us.”
The band began to play. The first song surprised him a little, since their instrumentation led him to believe they’d be dancing to big band–era music. Instead, the musicians opened with a classic waltz.
Mari-Brigid was not as good a dancer as Asil’s first date had been, but Kelly had been nearly professional.
Still, she had a good sense of rhythm and followed his lead well enough for him to enjoy dancing with her.
He could have faked that if he’d needed to.
Instead, he let his pleasure show on his face.
The Strauss waltz was ten minutes long, and he made good use of the time in a serious effort at flirtation. He’d told her his intentions. She knew he was performing for an audience, but he made her forget. Her eyes darkened and her skin flushed with pleasure.
Her shy smile was warm.
He was going to hurt her before this was over. He should have felt worse about that, but it was necessary for the plan he was constructing. She was not a particularly good actress, so she needed to believe.
He flagged down “their” waiter, the young man who’d brought them to their table, after their fourth dance and had him bring them more wine. But when Mari-Brigid started to drink her third glass of the night, Asil touched her wrist.
“Keep sober,” he told her, his mouth to her ear. He looked around, but their waiter had gone and there was no one near. “Text Bobby to be ready.”
While she did that, he sent a few texts, too. Then he took her out on the dance floor again. And for a while he lost himself in the pleasure of the music and the anticipation of the approaching hunt.
He didn’t have a death wish at the moment. But death’s presence, especially when it was so close he could smell it, made him feel alive. He wrapped himself in the knowledge that he could die this night.
A single werewolf, no matter how fabulous, was not as strong or fast as a vampire.
Wolves were more susceptible to shock and pain.
Asil’s personal skill and intelligence made up for most of the discrepancy, and he was certain that one-on-one he was a match for Mari-Brigid’s husband—who Asil was now certain was older than Bobby believed.
But part of surviving as long as the vampire had was not meeting someone like Asil one-on-one.
This battle would be about controlling the environment and the weapons available.
And every one of the fragile humans in this room were weapons for the vampire.
Asil was a superb chess player because of his innate ability to see consequences.
To see the possible choices that he and the vampire could make this evening and understand the various possible outcomes.
There were many paths that left Asil alive and the vampire dead.
Many, many ways that he could rescue the maiden and the driver who was in love with her.
But he chose the path that accomplished all of those ends.
Even though it was the most dangerous to him.
Maybe because it was the most dangerous to him.
His survival would depend upon his wolf. He had to trust that the beast was not lost again no matter what it felt like. To that end, he prodded the wolf a bit and received no response.
Three more dances, and when the third one ended, the feeling of the room changed. Asil sensed it. People were going to start heading home.
The next piece the orchestra broke into was a swing dance, perfect for Asil’s purpose.
He put a little flair into his dance steps, trusting that Mari-Brigid would have the skill to follow.
She was better at the more modern dances, and swing was easier to cover mistakes in than the tango he and Kelly had done would have been.
Asil supported a few wobbly moments and felt her relax into that.
Her moves became smoother, more enthusiastic as her trust in him grew.
People were starting to focus on them. Part of it was that Mari-Brigid, like her mother, was beautiful, especially when she was happy—as she was now.
Most of it was Asil, who was more than beautiful, and when he chose, he knew how to attract and hold attention.
She let him drop her backward until her head nearly touched the floor. When he drew her back up, she was laughing. He moved them to the center of the room.
He felt the eyes of the whole room focus on them as he lifted her over his head, hands on her hips. Slowly, holding her without effort, he turned around twice, then set her down lightly.
“Is this wise?” Mari-Brigid whispered. She had been laughing but worry had crept in when, feet on the floor, she noticed the attention they were getting.
“Do you doubt me?” he asked archly before spinning her so that they danced with her back to his front. The question was a little unfair, since she hadn’t met him before tonight—and she was not a werewolf to know who the Moor was.
But he heard her “No,” and she gave herself back into the dance.
On the last note, he pulled her to a dramatic stop, face-to-face. Then he put his hands on the sides of her warm cheeks, looked into Mariposa’s eyes, and kissed her daughter as applause rose around them.
She stepped back, put her hands to her mouth, her eyes stark with sudden terror. But only her eyes. When he held out his hand, palm up, she put her own on top of it and followed him to the chairs he’d claimed for them. He bent down and put his lips to her ear. “You need to use the restroom.”
She wasn’t an actress but she wasn’t stupid. In a voice that carried she said, “Please excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
“Of course,” he told her, watching as she made her way to the ladies’ room, briefly pausing when some acquaintance tried to get her attention. But she kept to her mission and disappeared safely behind doors when their waiter approached Asil.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said. “But there’s someone who would like to speak with you. Could you follow me?”
“Certainly,” Asil said peaceably.
This is a stupid plan, his wolf told him dourly.
Asil smiled.
Very stupid.
IV
He returned to the ballroom, blood thrumming in his temples and the wolf hiding just behind his eyes, not close enough to be visible. That was entirely to the wolf’s credit.
Asil was doing well to walk across the floor on steady feet. If the beast had wanted to manifest in the middle of the room, Asil wouldn’t have been able to stop it. But it was helping him, at least for now.
He found Mari-Brigid waiting by their chairs and looking a little lost. She lit up when she saw him, but pleasure—or possibly relief—faded when she got a good look at him.
He could feel that the blood was still hidden by the no-see pack magic, so it was his face she was reading. He tried to tamp his euphoria down a fraction but knew that the smile he gave her as he took her by the hand was too wolfish by half.
“What—”
He didn’t give her a chance to say another word, just hauled her out of the room.
The doorman, an older man, stopped them.
He did it as if by accident, voice light and shoulders a little hunched—Asil’s wolf thought the man had law enforcement training.
No matter what the doorman’s body said, his eyes recognized the predator in Asil.
“Are you okay, ma’am? Do you need me to call you a taxi?”
Asil and his wolf were working together to settle down, but if they were delayed too much by this upstart…
nice retired policeman or something of the like who was concerned with a vulnerable person’s safety…
Asil did not think they had long before his wolf made itself known.
And Asil would not allow them, would not allow himself, to kill a good man trying to protect someone.
Letting the wolf out would just delay them, and he was on a schedule.
Mari-Brigid looked up into Asil’s face. He had no idea what she saw, but it made her say, “No. No trouble. I just need to get my friend home. He’s had some extraordinary news.”
There was still concern on the man’s face, but he opened the door and that was all Asil needed him to do.
As soon as they exited, Asil heard the purr of the BMW, easily distinguishable from the other cars on the road while his wolf rode him this high.
“Your pupils are huge,” she whispered urgently as he kept them moving down the rain-drenched sidewalk. “Did you take something?”
That was funny.
Not funny, growled his wolf. Reminded, Asil didn’t laugh as he’d wanted to.