Chapter 23. William
william
William’s spine goes rigid. The only word that comes close to describing the feeling is struck.
For a fraction of a second, he thinks he is experiencing a temporal shift and that he has been transported back to his time.
Then he realizes it is Lorena.
He does not even notice he has dropped his mask.
When at last he picks it up and approaches her (slowly, at a mortal’s pace), he cannot take his eyes off her.
Modeling that dress from his century, her curls corralled off her neck, those curves she usually conceals so inescapably on display—he might not be sure it is truly her behind the mask, if not for her scent.
It takes a great deal of effort to keep his gaze above her collarbone, and in truth, he does not fully manage it. Holding the silver mask over his face again, William says, “We look like Romeo and Juliet when they first meet at the masquerade ball.”
Her golden eyes nearly blend in with her mask. “That was the plan.”
She sounds guarded tonight, as if she has not quite forgiven him for what he said to Trevor. Yet the urge to prove her wrong is never far from his mind, and he offers her his arm, determined to charm his way into her good graces, if only for tonight.
Even though William has been vexed with her since she broke their accord, he has decided to give her a second chance. Lorena said if he showed up to this ball, she would submit to his fangs without resistance.
Soon he will know what her word is worth.
They step up to the dining hall’s entrance, and Director Minaro scrutinizes them closely. “You truly look like you are from another time,” she says, studying William’s outfit.
“We are,” says Lorena. “I’m Juliet, and he’s Romeo.”
“Wonderful,” says the director.
“Those costumes are exquisite,” says their history teacher as she takes their photograph. “William, I would love to take a look at those threads sometime. They look authentic.”
“Certainly,” he says, then he and Lorena enter the dining-hall-turned-ballroom, which has been decorated with glowing jack-o’-lanterns, cottony spiderwebs, and fake trees wrapped with fairy lights.
A machine blows wispy white steam that clings to the floor, and headstones pierce through the fog, giving the impression that they are partying atop decomposing corpses.
Lorena keeps turning her head as if she is searching for someone, probably her friends. William traces the naked slope of her neck, so temptingly close and unprotected.
When he lifts his gaze, she is watching him through the mask.
He finds that he must resist the impulse to rip that mask away from her, so he can see her full face.
A new song starts to play from the speakers, a slower number than the previous one. On the dance floor, a few couples come together and start to sway at a daring proximity.
Driven by a foreign impulse, he asks, “Shall we dance?”
She takes a moment to answer, as if the question has thrown her. “Um—okay.”
He cannot tell if that was a statement or a question, so he offers his hand for her to decide. He hears the breath she sucks in before she rests her palm against his.
And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.
He shakes his head as the Shakespeare line interrupts his thoughts, and he leads her onto the dance floor. Classmates part for them, and once they are face-to-face, William lowers his mask.
He rests his hands on her hips, and Lorena removes her own mask to clasp her fingers around his neck, finally revealing her face.
The effect is like removing one’s sunglasses and peering at pure light. She glows in a way that makes it hard for him to look at her directly.
A midnight sun.
This was a mistake.
The thought is an arrow that pierces his delusion. What is he doing playing nice with his dinner? He should not have asked her to dance. He should not be letting her decide when he gets to drink. He should not be at this school, pretending to be a student—
“What’s wrong?”
She is looking up at him, her fingers barely touching around his neck. If she were not in heels, her hands would probably reach only his shoulders.
“I am not sure I should stay here any longer,” he hears himself say. “I need to be hunting down answers.”
“Oh.”
He expected relief, or even happiness, to flit across her face, but instead she looks … concerned? Disappointed?
“Where will you go?”
“Boston.”
“What about the LUB? That secret timeline map? Are you sure there’s not more for you to find in there?” she asks.
“It has been weeks since that discovery, and I have run out of places to look.”
There are more couples crowding the dance floor now, and William notices that some people are holding each other even closer than the two of them. Like a rhythmic hug.
It feels to him like his hands are acting of their own volition as they slide past Lorena’s hips and circle her waist. She holds her breath as his nose hovers by her forehead, and she fails to exhale for so long that he fears she has died.
“You all right?” he whispers.
“Mm-hmm.” Her arms close a little tighter around his neck, until their chests bump. The feel of her body against his alerts every part of William, awakening a different hunger.
He needs to think of something else to retain his self-control, and he tunes in to the conversations around him to calm down.
“They’re definitely together.”
“They’re pretty fucking hot.”
“Have you seen her cleavage?”
“Did you know she’s not allowed to date?”
His attention comes back to Lorena when he hears her voice, louder than all the others. “What happens when you get the answers you’re searching for?”
He tries not to look at her painted lips, which are the color of blood. “I will … find my family.”
“But you won’t need me anymore,” she says, as if that is her point. “You’ll have to make a new Familiar.”
Even with the loud music, he can hear her swallow.
“What happens to me?”
He was not expecting this line of questioning. Particularly because it would be too risky to leave Lorena alive now that she knows so much. Even if she is trustworthy, the Legion could threaten her family—or they could hurt her to get to him.
“You could leave with me,” he proposes, then immediately regrets it.
What is he saying?
He hears the way her heart stumbles before she says, “Or you could stay.”
The song ends, and a more upbeat melody begins.
Salma, Tiffany, Zach, and Trevor maneuver to Lorena and William’s side. Trevor is too focused on Salma to pay the vampire any attention, but Zach’s gaze is practically glued to William. There is an intense curiosity in his gaze tonight that seems new—or maybe the glasses concealed it before.
As Lorena’s friends start to dance around them, William is not sure what to do, so he mimics their movements. He used to enjoy dancing in his day, and soon he gets so lost in the music that he only catches himself when Salma says, “All right, Will! Boy’s got moves!”
Lorena is laughing, and there is so much light brimming in her eyes that he can barely see the color of her irises.
The dimple in her right cheek is on full display, and he has to resist reaching over to trace its indentation with his fingertip.
As she spins around in her gown, William takes her hand and twirls her.
When she settles, she seems a little unstable on her heels and loses her balance, falling right into William’s arms. It looks to the others like he is dipping her, so they cheer.
“Want some water?” he asks, leaning close to Lorena’s ear so she can hear him over the blasting music.
She nods in assent before telling her friends, “We’ll be back. Getting a drink.”
On their way off the dance floor, they run into Fran, who looks at William and says, “Lorena’s the belle of the ball, isn’t she?”
“She is,” he says, unable to disagree.
“You two look like you could be royalty that lived in this castle centuries ago. I wonder if I could spotlight you for next year’s Valentine’s Day edition of the paper. I’m already thinking of filling the spread with Huntington couples—”
“Thanks, Fran,” says Lorena with a tight smile. “We’ll let you know!”
As soon as they get to the buffet table, William pours Lorena a glass of cold water. “Would you like some dinner?” he offers her, picking up a plate and preparing to fill it.
She watches him as she sips the water, and when she sets down the glass, she asks, “Would you like a drink of your own?”
“Yes,” he answers without hesitation.
“Then take me back to that garden.”
And before any mortal eyes can register the movement, William lifts Lorena in his arms and whisks her away.