CHAPTER 22 AILEEN
CHAPTER 22
AILEEN
A scene out of a movie spread out before me when I stepped into the Atalonian Hall.
All guests wore tuxes and evening gowns, appearing as glamorous as celebrities on the red carpet. Dangling lanterns fell from the ceiling in different lengths, like luminous raindrops. The Atalonian Philharmonic Orchestra sat at the back of the room, playing Grieg’s Peer Gynt , conducted in a manner that helped it become background music rather than the main attraction. Which was just as well, considering what the main attraction was.
Paintings covered the walls and sat on easels throughout the room. Metal and marble sculptures were placed near the artwork in a complementary yet prominent way, what with the contrast of the checkered marble floor. Abstract video art played on the wall behind the orchestra, seemingly moving along with the bows of the strings section and the fingers of the wind players.
“Champagne, Miss Henderson?”
I tore my eyes away from the pretentious, awe-inspiring visual and looked at the waiter in full butler suit who held a round tray full of slender flutes. “Yes, thank you,” I said, then gave him a nod of acknowledgment as he handed me a glass.
He gave me a respectful nod in return and left to offer champagne to the couple near me.
Pretending to enjoy the champagne, I walked deeper into the room, feeling out of place and out of sorts. Like most women in attendance, I was wearing an unnecessarily extravagant maxi dress made of silk and colored navy blue, which was skintight and had modest cleavage and a slit down the leg. The dress was paired with silver high heels that hurt my feet like a motherfucker. My hair was pulled into a tall ponytail, black as soot and as straight as an arrow. Heavy makeup made my eyes look as though I’d been sucker punched, and the dark-red tint of the lipstick somehow caused my olive skin to seem paler than usual.
I felt dressed up for a Halloween party rather than an exclusive VIP-only art-curation event.
Being surrounded by so many vampires, I had a hard time discerning who was an Atalonian—the name the Atalon League members adopted, as though the League was a country rather than, well, a League—and who wasn’t.
Of course, there were not only vampires in attendance but humans too. But humans were far easier to recognize, especially after I’d seen many come and go during the Atalonian visitation hours. They seemed far less vital and more aged than vampires, even those who were supposedly in their twenties or thirties. It was as if I could smell their future graves.
“ Buonasera , tesoro,” a familiar voice whispered into my ear, making my muscles tense and the tiny hairs on my skin stand on end.
Stepping away, I turned to face Atalon. As always, he had a way of looking fresh and slick no matter the time of night, and his current appearance was no different. With his platinum hair pushed back and a dark-gray suit with a white button-down shirt underneath and a navy blue tie adorning his pale, tall, lean figure, in addition to a clean-shaven chiseled face with high cheekbones, he looked like a decadent movie star. He would’ve seemed like the epitome of classic perfection had it not been for his pitch-black eyes.
Those eyes were now gleaming in their usual calculated, cunning way as they scanned me from head to toe. “Exquisite,” he murmured, his eyes lingering too long on my body before returning to my face.
There was no real interest in his gaze. He looked at me like one would at a dog he owned. And that made me feel as great as if I’d been hit by a wrecking ball. “Thank you, my Lord,” I drawled, trying to hide my disgusted discomfort at both his gaze and words. “Now if you’ll excuse me ...”
Before he could stop me, I hurriedly walked away and searched for my boss.
I found Zion already working. He was quite in his element, too; he was talking to a group of humans about the painting behind him, explaining in expert detail the nuances of every brushstroke. I waited near the end of the group until Zion was done.
“Good evening,” I told him before he could accompany the group to the next artwork. “When do I start?”
He checked the notes on his paper holder before looking back at me. “Your group is scheduled to commence in fifteen minutes,” he said, then motioned toward the wineglass in my hand. “Make sure to get rid of it by then.”
“Will do,” I replied, and he left to rejoin his group for the next artwork.
Since I had some time until then, I downed the rest of my champagne and went to the square-shaped bar in the middle of the ballroom. I’d never been much of a drinker, but I had to admit I was a bit nervous. With everything going on, I’d barely had the time to mentally prepare myself. It was my first time working as a guide, and while I’d spent the last couple of weeks practicing for this moment after Zion exempted me from writing essays all day, I was still far too nervous for my own good. This gala was the most important event in the Atalon League. Fucking up wasn’t an option, especially not now that I was on Atalon’s radar for all the wrong reasons.
So, while I was far from a drinker, I felt that liquid courage was the way to go.
“A shot of whiskey, please,” I told the bartender.
She nodded and looked behind my shoulder. “And for you, sire?”
I froze as I saw two hands resting on the bar on both sides of me, caging me against a hard chest I could feel at my back. “Same, and make it Macallan for both.”
Barely noticing the bartender wandering off, I said quietly, “What are you doing?”
Ragnor’s hot breath in my ear made my body involuntarily shudder. “Black hair suits you quite well, Aileen,” he murmured, voice rough and sexy and ...
Fuck. “Do you have to be so close?” I said in a taut voice, feeling my cheeks flush. This is so not the time, I thought desperately, trying to calm the sudden heat blooming in my crotch. Remember what happened last time.
Ragnor sighed and retracted his hands, moving to my side. I could feel the loss of his heat at my back, and a rush of confusing disappointment filled me, mixed with relief. “I can’t help it,” he said quietly. “You look ravishing, and I missed you.”
My heart jolted, and slowly, I turned to look at him.
And immediately wished I didn’t.
Wearing a black suit with a navy blue tie and with his hair pulled into a short ponytail at the back of his head and his face full of bristles, he looked so hot, the need to feel him up was almost unbearable. The heat in his midnight blue eyes as he looked made me want to drop my panties and spread wide for him to take me.
Sucking in a deep breath, I could smell his tasty cologne that made me want to lick his neck, and I forced myself to look away. “What a flirt,” I said with a huff, trying to hide how his words truly made me feel, because I still refused to acknowledge his return to my life and his insistence on me giving him a chance.
“Only with you, Aileen,” he said quietly. “No one else.”
Thankfully, I didn’t have to respond because the bartender returned with our drinks. Before he could say something else I didn’t want to hear, I chugged the shot, welcoming the burn of the alcohol on my tongue, and I put the glass back on the bar. “I’m busy,” I said, turning to leave. “Enjoy your evening.”
He grabbed my wrist before I could even take a step, and I whipped my head toward him. The touch of his palm against the skin of my wrist shot a bolt of electricity straight to my loins, and I tensed. “Just a heads-up,” he said, giving me a somewhat wicked look. “I’m part of your group.”
Of course he fucking was. “Great,” I gritted out.
He let me go and gave me a slow, sexy smirk that made me want to both punch him and kiss him. “I’ll be in your care, then, Miss Guide.”
Who the hell was this playful, flirty man, and where the hell had he hidden all this time?
In an effort to hide how much he got to me, I gave him a pointed scowl before I fled to the other end of the room, wishing the alcohol would take root until it was time for me to do my job.
My group consisted of vampires only. There was a reason for that, too: the vampires were here more as guests than curators, though they could buy artwork if they so wanted. The humans in attendance were the real deal; they were the ones who possessed the deep pockets and willingness to empty them.
Because I was a junior guide, I took the relatively risk-free group.
And that would’ve been fine if my group didn’t consist of so many familiar faces. I wished the ground would split open and swallow me whole.
As he’d said he would be, Ragnor was there, accompanied by his plus-one—Cassidy Jones, my former best friend, and current Gifted vampire of the Rayne League. The last time I’d seen her was at the Auction, and I was caught off guard now by how different she looked, and not because she’d changed her general appearance; her charcoal hair was still as pretty as it always was, tied into a bun at the back of her head, and her feline-like green eyes and pale skin were just as lovely.
Yet her clothing and adornments had changed; she was wearing a suit—similar to the one Ragnor was wearing—only instead of combat boots, she wore moccasins. She barely had any makeup on, not even lipstick, and donned no jewelry either. Along with her stiff posture—again, what the hell?—that seemed far too militaristic to be natural, she could’ve passed as Ragnor’s bodyguard or something, instead of companion.
She also gave me a nod of acknowledgment before returning her gaze forward, face sealed and eyes inscrutable.
Seeing her here without warning made me feel strange. Cassidy belonged to a life long gone. Even when I was a newbie in the Rayne League, we kept our distance from one another, as if we’d never been friends or even known each other. Back then, I’d been angry about it.
Now, though, I found that I didn’t care about her or our past relationship whatsoever.
Because while Cassidy and I had been friends for three years, our friendship had never been a deep, true one. It was more of a friendship of convenience, really.
But with Isora, whom I’d known for about two months, I’d found a true friendship. A bond tighter and deeper than any I ever had with Cassidy.
So, for me, she was only somebody that I used to know, and nothing more.
The other members of my group bewildered me just as much. For starters, I had another Lord under my care—Lord Bowman, of the Bowman League in Albuquerque. He was the only Lord I’d met who was so presenceless and forgettable, he could’ve been invisible. With receding gray hair, pale skin, pale-blue eyes, and a white tux, he seemed almost like a ghost.
Another was a Lieutenant I recognized from the Renaldi League—Stefan. He was accompanied by another familiar face, Zoey, my former suitemate at the Rayne League.
She was thinner than the last time I saw her, her tall form far bonier than I remembered. Her sandy-brown hair had grown out of her bob cut and was now brushing her shoulders, with her fringes long gone. Her once heart-shaped face was now almost oval, as if it, too, had lost weight, and her long pointy nose seemed almost larger now because of that. As if to mimic her sad state, even her freckles, once so vivid and widespread, were smaller and paler now on her olive skin. She wore a ruby red dress that complemented Stefan’s red tux, and the dress didn’t seem to fit right, as if it was a few sizes too large.
Zoey didn’t look at me as I said, “Hello, everyone. I’m Aileen Henderson, and I’ll be your guide for tonight.” She kept her head low, like she couldn’t bear looking at me.
My chest tightened, and I silently promised that the moment I finished the tour, I would take her aside and ask her what the hell had happened to her.
I led the group toward the first exhibition—a seven-foot-tall sculpture of a chimera. “Demetria Holsten’s sculpture is a captivating representation of a chimera, a legendary creature from Greek mythology,” I said a bit too fast, hoping it didn’t sound like I was spouting the facts I’d been drilling into my brain over the past two weeks, despite it being the case. “At its core, it has the head of a fierce and majestic lion, complete with a powerful, open-mouthed roar and a flowing mane that frames its face. The lion’s eyes are intense and seem to pierce through you. Emerging from the lion’s body is the midsection of a goat, with shaggy fur and a distinctively different character from the lion above. The goat’s body is muscular, and it appears alert and aware, while its face carries a serene expression, a stark contrast to the lion’s fierceness.”
I could feel a certain gaze on my face, making my cheeks flame, but I ignored it and pointed with a bit of a shaking hand at the back part of the sculpture. “As you can see, a long sinuous serpent’s tail extends from its rear, meticulously coiling itself around the body. The tail’s curve is gracefully carved, ending with a sharp, pointed tip.”
Bowman seemed to nod along, staring at the sculpture like it was an interesting mathematical problem. Stefan appeared bored, looking everywhere else with heavy lids. I realized then that his hand was holding Zoey’s, not like a lover would, but like a jailer.
After clearing my throat, I continued, “The entire sculpture exudes a sense of dynamic tension as these different animal forms seamlessly merge and intertwine. It captures the chimera’s mythical and otherworldly essence, giving it an air of mystery and awe.” I fiddled with the wrinkles of my dress as I talked. “It’s a compelling piece that evokes the wonder of Greek mythology and the blending of the real and the fantastical.”
Proud that I remembered all the words, I instinctively turned to look at Ragnor.
His face was relaxed, and his eyes held a soft warmth within them as he stared at me, and it made me feel all sorts of ways. And when he mouthed, You’re doing great , I felt my chest expanding as butterflies filled my stomach and my cheeks flushed with satisfaction.
How could he still have such an effect on me?
Tearing my eyes away from him, I found Cassidy staring at the sculpture, swallowing a yawn. Yeah, art was definitely not her thing, and even if she acted all bodyguard-like, it was good to see that she was still her.
I started to feel a little less nervous when we moved to the next artwork, a painting of the Triple Goddess. “Another Gifted of the League, Yoon Ji-Woo, has been studying the Wiccan traditions for his art and painted the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone according to his findings ...”
As the tour progressed, I noticed a few things. One, Stefan refused to let Zoey’s hand go no matter what. Two, Cassidy kept her straight-backed militaristic pose for the entire time. Three, Bowman, the only one who spoke from time to time to ask me some questions regarding the monetary value of the pieces, seemed about as interested in the art itself as Cassidy. And four, Ragnor’s eyes never left my face as he seemed to listen to my ramblings with rapt attention.
After forty long minutes, it was finally time for the last piece of art—and my favorite one, despite its artist. “Last but not least is the Bird of the Nile by Lord Orion Atalon,” I said, motioning toward the heartbreakingly beautiful piece, and it seemed my thoughts and emotions about this piece came through my voice, because suddenly—in addition to Ragnor and Bowman—Stefan, Cassidy, and even Zoey came to attention, staring at the painting. “I don’t believe words can describe this one,” I said now, glad to have everyone’s attention. Putting aside my feelings toward Atalon, I wholeheartedly believed his pieces deserved all the attention and respect in the world. “So instead, I’ll let you have a look and feel the art for yourself.”
Almost too fittingly, the orchestra began playing Barber’s famous Adagio for Strings . Epic music for an epic artwork.
I looked at the painting along with the others, feeling myself fall into its magic once again. It made me wonder, not for the first time, what Atalon’s actual magic was. He’d once said it was related to his artwork, but in what sort of way?
Whatever it was, the painting was magical enough in and of itself. So magical, in fact, that I could almost feel myself right inside it, in the Nile River in Egypt, watching the bird soaring above me not just as a silhouette but as a fully fleshed bird, with a pheasant’s body, a long feathery tail, and large feathery wings, all of it painted bright red and orange, with a pair of brilliant yellow eyes looking right at me as the bird descended, its yellow gaze searing my skin, burning my bones, and setting my soul on fire—
I blinked. What the hell was that?
Then everything exploded.