Chapter 51 #2
“A shifter?” Archer finished, sparing the naked, chained man on his knees barely a glance.
“Yes. Vampires take a very twisted stance on old grudges.” Moving us through that room and toward the next, Archer continued.
“There was a war in Europe many, many years ago. Vampires won, barely, but they’ve never let the shifters forget it.
There’s probably a fighting pit near by.
The fucking bloodsuckers like to pit their pets against each other.
” He shook his head, clearly disgusted. “Those fights are to the death.”
His words made me unaccountably sad; the longstanding fight between vampires and shifters reminded me of the centuries-long divide between witches and demons. Two sides who were only still fighting because it seemed like what they had always done.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I gave the proud looking shifter one more look before he vanished from sight, wondering if old grudges could ever be forgotten.
“Uh, boss?” Vine asked, licking his lips as he peered into one of the parlors, eyes wide and hungry.
“I’m just gonna go, uh, scout.” He finally finished.
“Yeah, scout. Really make sure the place is secure, you know?” Without waiting for a response, Vine darted off, disappearing between the party guests like smoke.
“Remember why we’re here, Vine,” Archer called to his retreating form.
Vine only held up a hand in a dismissive wave, causing Archer to growl in frustration.
“I got him,” Corson sighed, placing a hand on Mal’s shoulder. “Come on. You can help me wrangle our resident party-hound. Make sure he doesn’t start a faction war because he can’t stop thinking with his dick.”
I let out a startled giggle as they vanished into the crowd, wondering just how much trouble Vine could cause at what was clearly revealing itself to be a vampire sex party.
Looking at one woman, a human, held tightly between two men, I could see that her head was thrown back, one arm curled around the neck of the man behind her as she writhed against the other.
The man in front was bent low, his mouth attached to the swell of her breast, sucking as she moaned.
When she wove her fingers into his hair and pulled, he moved in for a kiss, and it was then that I noticed the twin puncture marks on the pale flesh of her breast, and the blood that dribbled down his chin, smearing across her lips when she kissed him.
The second man gripped her chin, turning her back to face him, and he licked the blood of her lips before devouring her with a carnal kiss.
It was grotesque and erotic and I felt my own nipples peak in response to their actions.
“Careful, witch,” Archer hissed, his mouth close to my ear.
“You don’t want to draw too much attention.
” When I offered only a confused frown, he added, “If I can smell your arousal, I assure you that every hungry vampire in the nest can as well. I’d rather not have to kill them all tonight.
” Giving my hip a squeeze, he growled, “But I will if I need to.”
I tried to come up with a response, something that was more than just a helpless whimper, but before I could formulate anything, Mex led us into the massive ballroom at the center of the house, and I could only stare in awe.
The room was huge, the high ceiling easily three stories, with rows of arched windows looking out onto the darkened gardens.
Half a dozen chandeliers hung from golden chains, each filled with flickering candles, and on a balcony overlooking the room sat the musicians, their aggressive song crashing over the room as people danced.
The dancers themselves were moving in unison, twin rows of people moving together, twirling, then moving away, leaving with a different partner than they’d arrived with a second earlier.
It was a well choreographed number, and I was shocked that everyone seemed to know the steps.
Although, if the rest of the vampires were as old as Genvieve claimed to be, I supposed they had all lived in a time when court dances were popular.
Watching them, the way their over-sized dresses swirled and flowed with the steps, each partner deftly avoiding stepping on the trailing fabric, I felt a stab of jealousy, wondering what it would be like to be so confident in your own body, knowing instinctively that it would do what you wanted, almost without thought.
My own body had never been reliable, my magic failing me time and again, and then when it finally did show up, it was nothing like I’d ever hoped, becoming wild and unpredictable and wholly unhelpful in any way.
Figured, didn’t it?
As I watched the dancers, mesmerized by the music and the movement and the atmosphere as a whole, I felt a stirring in my chest, the magic inside me that had been bubbling softly in the background suddenly sitting up and taking notice.
Reaching once again for the first piece of the Fallen Key where it hung between my squished breasts, I gripped it tightly in my fist, ignoring the heat it was putting off as my eyes scanned the room, looking for the source of the strange sensations that were suddenly rippling through me.
That was when I saw her.
Descending the stairs from the balcony was a woman so beautiful, she hardly looked real.
She had pale skin, crystal blue eyes, and lips as red as roses.
Her hair was so pale it was nearly white, and it was twisted up into a complex, towering design that resembled styles I’d only seen in history books.
She looked to be about my age, but she carried herself with a confidence that I knew I would never achieve, her whole being projecting power and control and I found myself unable to look away.
Draped in a stunning gown of crimson velvet and lace, the woman entered the room and everyone stopped, turning to face her and bowing their heads in deference.
The women even offered deep curtsies, spreading their already wide skirts even wider, but the stunning beauty barely paid them any attention, her haunting blue gaze flirting from one face to the next with not a single flicker care or preference for any of them as she idly toyed with delicate lace fan she held, flicking it lazily before her face as though out of habit.
Gliding through the party, she moved like fog, drifting lightly through the room, looking almost bored as she headed toward the far side of the ballroom.
Right where we were standing.
I could tell the moment she noticed us, her lips pursing as she gave a quick assessment, deciding if we were a threat to her or not.
She must have decided not, because after only a brief pause, she continued walking, stopping only a few steps from us and offering a haughty smile.
“Duchess. I see you brought guests into my home. Won’t you introduce us?”
Her voice was clear, the words slightly raspy and her English beautifully accented.
“Genevieve Dubois,” Mex began, and I internally marveled at the difference between their speech.
Where Mex’s Louisiana French was rough and rugged, Genevieve’s French, straight from the royal court of Marie Antoinette, was regal and aristocratic.
The same language, but worlds apart. “Allow me to introduce the North East contingent of the Umbra Fratrum, led by The Great Marquis Leraje, known as The Archer, and his mate, the witch Delilah.”
She ran her gaze over us, stopping on Archer for a beat longer than the others, likely sensing his own power, then she moved on to me.
I grit my teeth, not wanting to wilt under her heavy regard, but feeling like nothing more than a bug before this ethereal creature.
She was absolute perfection, and I was a child playing dress-up in someone else’s clothes.
Suddenly uncomfortable, I dropped my gaze, mimicking the others who had not wanted to look at her, and I felt Archer stiffen beside me, but I couldn’t help it.
Her presence was overwhelming, sending shivers through my body, for a second I thought I might…come?
“Now, now, ma fille,” she cooed, her fan coming out and touching under my chin, lifting my gaze back to hers, and I set aside my confusion reaction as her icy blue eyes raked over me.
“Let me look at you, oui? Mated to the demon, you said?” she asked Mex, not taking her eyes off of me, and I did my best not to squirm.
Taking a small step forward, Genevieve leaned toward me, closing her eyes and inhaling deep.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, straightening. “You already smell like him.
Tres intéressant! I believe the story of how such a pairing came to be would be quite fascinating, n'est-ce pas?”
It was then that I saw it. Threaded onto a string of stunning pearls and nestled between her most impressive breasts, it hung there like a poison apple, ripe for the picking, and I knew that was what I had felt a moment ago, its power calling to me like a siren.
The black diamond.
The second piece of the Fallen Key.