Chapter 4
Zander stepped into his suite with lists, strategies, and contingencies on his mind, but every careful plan scattered when he saw Emerald adjusting his boy’s tie.
The gown was iridescent green, shimmering with each movement as if she’d been dipped in liquid emeralds.
The bodice fit her like a corset, emphasizing generous curves despite her weight loss.
Her breasts rose from the neckline in a display of unapologetic beauty, as arresting as it was breathtaking.
The skirt fell to tea-length, crinolines giving it volume and movement, perfect for dancing, and it showed off the exquisite sexier-than-fuck heels, darker green with the same iridescence.
She hadn’t weighed much to start with, and the seventeen pounds she’d lost had put her into dangerous territory.
She’d gained a little back, but nowhere near enough.
He knew Spence had called the tailor in for extensive alterations, and the man had worked a miracle. Even too thin, she was magnificent.
She looked both stunning and fragile, and the combination made him feel both protective and licentious.
He hadn’t told Aaron or Sophia about her being sick because she’d asked him not to, but he really needed Sophia’s input on how best to put weight back onto her daughter.
The conversation would be uncomfortable at best, and possibly quite unpleasant, but Emerald’s health had to be his primary focus.
His boy’s tuxedo was a deep charcoal, tailored to perfection, and the fabric caught the light like brushed steel.
It would be exquisite with the aurora above the dome.
The vest was a much lighter grey, patterned with looping charcoal swirls that looked like a manic five-year-old had gone at it with a fountain pen, but it worked.
At his neck was something between tie and cravat, a medium grey, pulled up a little to give it some width and let the soft silk rumple.
On Spencer, it looked effortless, elegant, and far beyond sexy.
As Abbott, Zander’s tux would’ve been classic and boring, but tonight his designer had put him in dangerous elegance.
Black trousers with a subtle sheen, a light-charcoal vest that fit like sin, crisp white shirt, and a black silk bow tie.
The jacket, however, stole the show — shiny black silk embroidered with matte black scrollwork, cut like a vampire’s coat with flowing tails. Classic and rich, but with a twist.
And he was assured that, once they hit the ballroom, the high sheen of the silk would reflect the color of the aurora shimmering and moving above.
“The two of you are lovely,” Zander said. “I just need a few minutes to change clothes, and we can all go up together.”
“Toby said what I saw of the aurora an hour ago wasn’t going to be the peak,” Spencer said. “I can’t wait to see how it’s changed.”
“He told me we might even get some other colors in and around the usual blues and greens,” Emerald said. “I’m jealous the two of you have already seen it.”
“I haven’t, actually,” Zander told her. “I’ve been stuck in Lucien’s office, working at his conference table, helping deal with security logistics. Spencer, please put one of the hands-off tattoos on our little dragon.”
Because no one was going to fuck her or feed from her on this night. She wasn’t anywhere near strong enough for that, yet.
Less than fifteen minutes later, the three entered together, Emerald and Spencer flanking him, and he wrapped an arm around both waists while he stood and looked around the nearly-full ballroom, which had been transformed for the event.
Beaten-copper bowls sunk into tables around the perimeter glowed with banked coals — hours of careful fire management yielding steady warmth without flame.
Red rope lighting traced the curved walls at ankle height, supplemented by subtle amber accents that kept the space navigable without drowning out the real spectacle overhead.
The aurora.
Zander had seen thousands of displays in his long life, but this one commanded attention.
Ribbons of green fire rippled across the dome, shot through with veins of pink and violet.
The colors moved like living things, pulsing and swirling in rhythm with the solar wind.
Every shifter, vampire, and human in the room kept stealing glances upward, mesmerized.
The polished floor radiated gentle heat beneath his feet, another carefully orchestrated detail. His guests would be comfortable despite the ballroom’s temperature hovering around seventy degrees warmer than the frigid outside air, bringing it to not quite fifty degrees.
Vampires don’t feel the cold, and shifters can handle far colder, but comfort mattered for an event like this. The floor was heated, as were the benches. One area of the ballroom had some blown heat, and that would be where the few humans would likely congregate.
And with Zander’s arrival, the low background filler music faded, and the energetic dance music started.
Traditionally, the first song of the Aurora Balls is Walking on Sunshine, and the driving rhythm pulsed through the ballroom with an infectious energy that made it impossible to stand still.
The tempo was relentless, celebratory, and the kind of beat that demanded movement.
Emerald’s face lit up, and she pulled the three of them to the dance floor.
Zander danced with them, though admittedly a lot more conservatively than Emerald and Spencer.
Parts of Emerald’s social group moved closer, and she turned to Felix, who grinned and matched her energy, the two feeding off each other’s joy, their bodies in synch, hips swaying, arms lifting.
Zander moved to the edge and accepted a glass of wine from a passing server.
Emerald danced with wild joy. Not the careful, controlled movements of someone recovering from near-death, or the tentative steps of someone conserving her strength. She threw herself into it with abandon — spinning, laughing, her skirt flaring with each turn.
The iridescent fabric caught the aurora light and seemed to glow as an extension of her joy.
She should be resting, or at the very least taking it easy, but Emerald Drake was a fucking genius, so he had to trust she knew what her body could handle, and that she’d manage her strength so she could enjoy the full ball.
And if she didn’t, he’d have a trusted security guard take her downstairs and then stay on sentry duty outside the suite.
Spencer danced with the flock, with other vampires, and then he was back with the flock again.
One song transitioned seamlessly into another upbeat track, and Emerald switched to dance with Rhea, the eagle shifter matching her energy with fierce, competitive joy.
They faced off, and what started as dancing became a playful challenge.
Rhea threw in a complicated footwork pattern; Emerald copied it and then countered with a spin and a drop. Back and forth, neither backing down.
The gathered crowd cheered. Someone called out encouragement. Rhea laughed and conceded with an exaggerated bow, and Emerald pulled her into a hug before they both dissolved into giggles.
Spencer appeared beside him, his dark hair gleaming in the low light. She’s really wonderful, isn’t she?
She is, but she’s lost too much weight.
Yes, but she’s happy. Truly happy, not thinking about being sick, just enjoying the moment, and fuck, she’s beautiful in her joy. It’s infectious.
Zander said nothing, but he stopped mentally drafting the conversation he wanted to have with her about not overdoing it.
Zander forced himself to stop watching her and engage with the guests and flock members.
He circulated around the tables, accepting compliments on the event, discussing the aurora’s unusual intensity, making small talk about feeding frenzies and other upcoming events.
But his attention kept drifting back to the dance floor.
Emerald with Felix again, their movements easy and familiar.
Emerald with Toby, who moved stiffly but gamely, making her laugh.
Emerald with Spencer, and there was something different in how they moved together. Spencer’s hand on her waist, her palm against his chest or on his shoulder. Not sexual, exactly, but intimate. Connected.
And then the music shifted.
The driving beat faded, replaced by something slower. Sweeter. The opening notes of a classic love song drifted through the ballroom — gentle piano with soft strings. “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” The kind of song that made couples gravitate toward each other.
Zander didn’t hesitate. He crossed the floor with purpose, weaving through the paired-off dancers until he found her.
Emmy was catching her breath when she felt him approach. She wasn’t used to being winded and it annoyed her, but she was fine. A little tired, but not exhausted.
She’d sensed Zander watching her dance a good part of the night, as if his gaze had been a physical touch at times.
And now he was standing in front of her, a wall of power and intention. Vampire, power, and Zander.
“Dance with me.” Not a question. His voice was low, meant only for her despite the crowd around them.
Emmy’s gaze met his, and she found herself caught by those impossibly blue eyes reflecting the aurora overhead, colors shifting across his face in waves of green and pink.
She wanted to say something clever to lighten the moment, but nothing came to mind, so she stepped into his arms.
His hand settled at the small of her back, and her palm found his shoulder — solid muscle beneath expensive fabric. It felt right. Like pieces sliding into place.
They moved together, and Emmy stopped thinking, let the song wrap softly around them. Other couples swayed nearby, but they all faded into peripheral awareness.
There was only Zander.
His thumb traced small circles against her spine, sending shivers through the thin fabric of her gown. She was hyperaware of every point of contact — his chest close enough to brush hers, the strength in the arm around her waist.