Chapter 7 #2
I followed his gaze to where two guards flanked an archway sparkling with protective magic. Unlike the entrance guards, these were not humanoid. Their forms were tall and angular, their skin like polished obsidian.
“Shadow sentinels,” Damien said. “They can detect deception and ill intent. Thorough, but not impossible to bypass if one’s intentions are carefully framed.”
“Meaning?”
“We aren’t lying about wanting to see Selene’s collection,” he said. “We simply have a specific piece we’re most interested in.”
The skin map. I couldn’t even think about it without shuddering.
The music shifted, the tempo increasing. Damien adjusted our steps smoothly, drawing me a fraction closer as we moved. For someone who had seemed so still all the time, he danced with remarkable grace. I found myself relaxing into him, our bodies finding an unexpected harmony.
“You’re pretty good at this,” he said.
“Don’t sound so shocked,” I replied dryly. “I did attend almost two fancy pack functions before my dramatic fall from grace. Dancing was required, along with diplomatic small talk and not eating the neighboring Alpha. No one said anything about fucking him, though.”
A full grin cupped his lips, followed by that gravelly laugh, the sight and sound stealing my breaths. “I’m beginning to understand why you didn’t fit into conventional pack structures.”
“Was it the ‘fucking’ comment? Too much?”
“Just enough.” He executed a perfect turn that sent my dress swirling around both of our legs. “Your honesty is refreshing.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s all part of my ‘zero fucks given’ charm.”
His expression changed subtly, his eyes focusing on something over my shoulder.
“We have company,” he murmured. “Marcel, approaching from your six o’clock. And he’s not alone.”
I resisted the urge to look, instead waiting until our next turn brought the approaching figures into my line of sight. Marcel was indeed heading our way, accompanied by a tall, striking woman who couldn’t keep her eyes off of Damien.
Her platinum blonde hair was styled in an elegant updo that emphasized her sculpted cheekbones and luminous violet eyes. Her gown—a creation of silver-white fabric that seemed to flow like liquid mercury—made my own dress look mundane by comparison.
The dance ended before Marcel and the woman reached us, the musicians transitioning to a different melody. Damien kept his hand at the small of my back as we moved to the edge of the dance floor, presenting a united front as the pair approached.
“Damien,” the woman purred, extending her hand in greeting. “What an unexpected pleasure to see you in society again. You’ve been positively reclusive these past months.”
Damien took her hand briefly. “Vivienne. Marcel. I trust you’re both enjoying the festivities?”
“Immensely,” Marcel said in his French accent, his attention fixed on me rather than Damien. “Especially now that we’ve found the most interesting couple in attendance.”
I smiled politely, maintaining my role. “You flatter us, Mr. Deveraux.”
“Marcel, please.” He took my free hand and brought it to his lips, making me cringe on the inside. “Anyone in my line of work is practically family.”
As Marcel dropped my hand, my glinting engagement ring caught Vivienne’s attention. Emotions stormed across her masked face as her eyes widened, but she quickly schooled her expression.
“Speaking of family,” Vivienne said stiffly, settling a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “How is dear Elliot? I’ve heard concerning rumors about his health.”
A palpable tension radiated from Damien. “As well as can be expected. Thank you for your concern.”
“Such a pity,” she continued, her sharp eyes watching him behind her delicate mask. “Illnesses in vampires are so rare these days. Almost…archaic.”
Damien stiffened beside me.
Questions warred inside my head. Who was Elliot? A vampire surely, but who was he to Damien? And why had Vivienne decided to mention his illness so publicly?
“Maybe we should discuss more pleasant topics,” I said, squeezing Damien’s arm. “I’ve been excited to see Madame Selene’s new acquisitions. I understand she’s gotten some great historical pieces recently.”
Marcel nodded. “Her collection has grown. Anything in particular you’re interested in?”
Nice. Way to be subtle, Marcel.
“We’re particularly interested in pre-Bronze Age crafting techniques,” Damien said smoothly. “Luna’s research focuses on that era.”
One of Vivienne’s perfect eyebrows arched above her mask as she turned to me. “Does it? How fascinating for someone like you.”
She delivered that comment with poisonous sweetness.
“Someone like me has to get my kicks from somewhere,” I said with equal sugar.
“Clearly.” Vivienne’s gaze lingered on my engagement ring. “That’s a family heirloom, isn’t it, Damien? I’m surprised you parted with it, given its significance, for someone so…scandalous.”
I smiled at Vivienne, tilting my head. “How observant of you to recognize it. Treasures should bring life to a family, not gather dust. But then again, understanding the difference between possession and appreciation requires depth, something which you obviously don’t—“
I yelped as Damien pinched my ass. Hard.
At my sudden outburst, awkward tension coiled between the four of us.
Not knowing what else to do, I grabbed the nearest glass of champagne from a waiter and chugged it.
Damien stared at me with wide eyes. “We need to work on your salt intake, dear. You’re too thirsty.”
I dragged the back of my hand over the remnants of champagne on my lips. “I gotta do something with my mouth. Um, honeybuns.”
Marcel choked on his laughter.
Damien’s face remained frozen.
A flush crept up my neck when I realized what I’d just blurted.
“Well.“ Vivienne smiled, all gleaming teeth and cold, glittery eyes. “This has been so eye-opening meeting you. We won’t keep you from enjoying the festivities. I believe Selene is preparing to showcase her new acquisitions soon.”
“We were just heading that way ourselves,” Marcel said. “Perhaps we could view the collection together? I’d be fascinated to hear another expert’s opinion on their authenticity.”
The invitation was a transparent attempt to keep us close, either to monitor our interests or to prevent us from reaching the skin map first. Either way, declining would seem suspicious.
“We’d be happy to,” I said before Damien could, smiling brightly. “Wouldn’t we, honeybuns?”
Damien leaned into me, the action somehow breaking the awkwardness, thank god.
“Of course,” he said, offering me his arm. “Shall we?”
As we made our way toward the Eastern Gallery with our unwanted companions, I stepped close to Damien, using the pretense of an intimate moment to whisper, “You pinch my ass again, I’ll be forced to pinch yours.”
His lips barely moved as he said, “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”
I snorted, which earned me a disparaging look from Vivienne. “How am I doing?”
“You are certainly making an impression.” He glanced at me, and a devastating smile broke over his face. “Honeybuns.”
I bit back another snort.
The archway to the Eastern Gallery loomed before us, the shadow sentinels raising goose bumps along my arms as we approached.
A prickling sensation started at my scalp and dropped to my toes as we passed between them—the magical equivalent of a security scan.
The moonpeach’s sensory enhancement let me see the magic flowing over us, searching for deception or harmful intent.
Good thing my dress’s magic protected me from further scrutiny.
Then we were through, entering a space even more remarkable than the Grand Gallery.
The Eastern Gallery defied conventional physics.
Star-like lights hovered in the air, illuminating display cases that appeared to float at various heights.
Some cases seemed anchored to walls, others to the ceiling, while some drifted through the space like elegant, glowing jellyfish.
The overall effect was like stepping into a three-dimensional museum where gravity was a suggestion rather than a law.
“Impressive,” Marcel said beside us. “Selene has outdone herself.”
Guests moved throughout the gallery, examining artifacts displayed in transparent cases of what appeared to be solid light rather than glass.
I noted several security measures beyond the shadow sentinels, like guardians disguised as decorative statues, wards shimmering around the more valuable pieces, and what appeared to be some kind of magical surveillance system embedded in the floating lights.
“Let’s split up,” I suggested innocently. “Cover more ground that way. I’m particularly interested in the textile preservation techniques used on those ancient scrolls.”
I pointed to a distant corner of the gallery.
Vivienne smiled thinly. “What a lovely idea. Marcel, why don’t you accompany Ms. Rookwood? I’m sure Damien and I can find plenty to discuss among the older artifacts.”
Her intention was clear—separate us to probe for inconsistencies in our story while she eye-fucked Damien.
I met Damien’s gaze, silently communicating that I could handle Marcel while he dealt with Vivienne.
“Don’t let her steal you away completely, honeybuns,” I told Damien, stretching up to brush a kiss against his cheek.
My lips tingled at the cool smoothness of his skin, and a tremor rippled down his frame as I pulled away.
He gazed down, and our eyes locked. For a moment, the rest of the room dissolved, and I became weightless. Breathless.
Caught in the powerful spark burning in his eyes.
He looked away, and I crashed back down to the planet and tried to settle my heartbeat.
This deception of ours was working almost too well. I had to remind myself that this was all pretense—the touches, the intimate looks, the easy physical harmony we’d developed. None of it was real.
So why did it feel that way?
I pushed the uncomfortable thought aside.
Focus on the mission, Luna, not the unfairly hot vampire in a tux who could ruin your heart.
And your dress, if he really wanted to.
Stop! STOP!
No more thinking ever.