Chapter 13
JOSIE
The engine of Sebastian’s vintage car purrs with a roaring rumble. It reverberates through the night and vibrates in my entire body as we putter down the tree-lined avenue on the way to the witches’ masquerade ball.
Tonight, Sebastian sits behind the wheel instead of Finn. When Rune slid in beside me in the cramped back seat, he joked that the car—a 1934 Alvis Speed 20 that only comes out of the garage for special occasions—is Sebastian’s baby, and he never lets anyone drive his baby.
He must take good care of her if she’s still running this well after nearly a century.
It’s strange—I didn’t peg Sebastian as a classic car guy. Then again, how much do I really know about the Mad King of the French Quarter?
His blue eyes find mine in the rearview as he turns us onto a long driveway. His gaze lingers, but I don’t get the usual heated glare.
Huh. He’s full of surprises tonight.
“That’s one helluva house,” Rune comments, leaning forward to peer through the windshield, and I do the same.
Before us is a sprawling, colonial-style mansion that sits on the top of a small hill, its lit windows peeking through the obsidian sky like stars in the heavens. My stomach churns uneasily as the towering pillars and ornate fa?ade loom closer to the architectural marvel that has witnessed generations of witches before me.
Sebastian steers our car into the queue of vehicles making their grand arrivals, their sleek exteriors gleaming under the gentle light of the moon as they spew out passengers in an excited rush.
“Nervous?” Rune’s side brushes mine, and the upholstery creaks as he leans close.
Nervous is an understatement.
“I feel like an outsider,” I admit, the knot in my stomach cinching tighter as the car crawls up the drive. “I’ve never had a coven before. It was just me and Grand-Mère.”
I’ve never been to an event this size before. I can already feel the massive gathering of magic from so many witches in a single place.
It’s almost dizzying.
“They’re going to love ye, lass,” Finn reassures from the front seat. He reaches back and offers me his hand, and as soon as our fingers brush a rush of calm comfort floods through me, dispelling my anxiety. Well, most of it.
“Thanks.” I sigh, sitting back in my seat.
It’s more than meeting my coven—it’s the weight of being the last Dumont witch of her bloodline. It’s knowing that I’m nowhere near Grand-Mère’s level when she was my age. It’s the fact that I’m the one who’s responsible for Adelaide’s death.
Coming here was a bad idea.
I’m about to yell for Sebastian to turn us around when we come to a stop, and my stomach lurches into my throat. Rune rests a huge hand on my thigh, giving a gentle squeeze. “You ready to show these witches who Josephine Dumont is?”
I wonder for a second if he’s joking, but the glint in his eyes holds only the fierceness of his conviction in me.
What did I do to deserve that kind of look?
“As long as you promise not to leave my side.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up, and I catch a glimpse of his fang poking out. I blink, and he’s gone. My door opens, and I turn to see Rune with his hand out to me. “Stuck to you like glue,” he promises with a toothy grin.
Good. Then, maybe not all the focus will be on the last witch of the Dumont bloodline—just the vampire on her arm.
Vampires. I look to the front for my Celt, but he’s already gone.
“No one will be able to take their eyes off you in there,” Rune says.
I shake my head. “No. I plan on blending in as much as possible tonight. If I can help it, no one will recognize me.”
Rune snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that, babe.”
He tightens his fingers around my hand and helps me out of the back seat. When I stand, I get the full effect of his presence, his cologne, and his suave attitude.
It’s a heady combination.
The rolled-up sleeves of his black collared shirt and vest combo are nowhere near as formal as Sebastian’s all-black suit, or as traditional as Fintan’s kilt of green tartan, but it suits him.
Especially with his hair tied into an intricate twist of braids, all of them pulled back into a single dark blond ponytail.
“It’ll be you they can’t take their eyes off.” I smooth a hand down the soft fabric of his vest and feel the ripple of his taut muscles under my fingers. “You’re looking good tonight, Viking.”
He leans close, his lips brushing the skin of my neck and making my pulse jump. “As opposed to my grotesque appearance every other day?”
My body shivers with the nearness of him and I have to step back or risk combusting and ruining this pretty dress.
My reaction earns me the reward of a hearty chuckle. “Hold on. You haven’t got the full effect.”
He leans past me to reach into the back seat and gives me a perfect view of his toned butt. The way his pants stretch against his thick thighs is completely, panty-soakingly sinful.
“I feel you ogling my booty.” He wiggles said booty at me, and I give him a playful smack before he straightens.
“As your Unity Witch, I believe it is my booty to ogle, isn’t it?”
He traps his bottom lip between his teeth and waggles his brows. “You can do more than ogle my body, cher. Say the word and I’m all yours.”
“Tempting, but it will have to wait. Put on your mask so we can go in.”
Rune lifts his hands and secures his mask in place. It looks more like a Viking helmet than any masquerade mask I’ve seen, but I can’t picture anything more appropriate for Rune. “The pièce de résistance.”
It really is.
Because wow. Rune always looks handsome with his rugged beard and solid, muscled build, but he’s especially climbable tonight. “The mask takes it to another level, right?”
I swallow, taking in the band of brushed bronze that covers from his top lip to his forehead where two dark horns curl out from each side. “Uh…yeah. Very dashing.”
The effect is wicked, but it’s not the mask or the outfit that draws me in. With these heels on, I’m at Rune’s eye level for the first time, and I’m spellbound by the way his hazel eyes shine when he smiles, and how the bronze mask brings out the different shades of green.
Reaching out, I brush a finger over the symbol etched into the medallion sitting over his forehead. It’s the same as the one on the necklace he usually wears—the fylgja, he told me.
“Come on, let’s go wrangle Sebastian.” Rune tilts his head, and I peer around his bulky frame.
“Is he causing trouble already? We haven’t even made it inside yet.”
Hopefully Rune’s medallion will bring us some good luck and protection, so tonight goes smoothly.
Please, Gaia, let this night go smoothly.
It becomes clear that isn’t going to happen when we join Sebastian and Finn around the car where our king is all but growling at a poor young man wearing a red vest and neat bowtie.
“Why worry about finding a parking space when you have such an extravagant ball waiting for you just inside?” The valet puts out his palm for the keys, but Sebastian refuses to hand them over.
“No one drives her but me,” he says.
“I understand the concern for such a beautiful piece of machinery, sir, but I promise we are nothing but professional here. Your car will be in the best hands while you enjoy tonight’s event.”
“Did you not hear me?”
I have to give the valet credit, his pleasant smile falters only slightly under Sebastian’s icy stare. Still, a flash of anger washes over me, and I come to the poor guy’s rescue.
No one should have to deal with Sebastian Fontenot. “Come on, your majesty, let the man do his job.”
“This car is a classic.”
“Which is why I’m sure—” I squint at the man’s name tag, “—Charlie will take excellent care of it.”
“Of course.”
Charlie’s promise does nothing to sway his royal pain in my arse.
Time for a different tactic.
“I’m about to meet my coven for the first time in twenty-five years, and there is a very good chance I’m going to completely screw it up and embarrass myself. You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”
The jingle of Sebastian’s keys falling into the valet’s palm is music to my ears, and I swear I catch the hint of a smile before he turns and it’s gone, his usual grimace firmly in its place.
Whatever.He will not ruin my night.
With the car situation handled, I take Finn’s arm in mine, and slip my other through Rune’s, leading the way into the party while Sebastian trails behind the three of us, our own personal storm cloud to rain on our parade.
We join the procession of masked guests hovering around front doors large enough to let in a stone giant. The grand entrance welcomes us into the foyer with flickering candlelight and a cascade of pink and yellow roses in bouquet baskets that lead the way.
Francine was right. Elara’s flowers are perfect. I must remember to give her and her green thumb kudos the next time I’m at the shop.
“Come on, boys—the party awaits.” I tug my vampires along eagerly, feeling like I’m floating down the hall and into the main room where I stop and take it all in.
It’s like seeing my dream come to life—literally. As a kid, I dreamed of masquerade balls for an entire week leading up to my birthday, which—of course—was a Mardi Gras masquerade extravaganza.
The real thing outdoes all those dreams combined.
The ballroom in front of me is a constant ebb of flowing gowns in every color, from muted pastel pinks and blues to vibrant reds and yellows, some with sparkle, others with beads, each of them unique and all of them with a matching mask.
The chatter of conversations as I wander around the room is like a gentle hum, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of crystal glasses.
There are servers dressed in black and white suits navigating the sea of people to bring around silver trays of fancy hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne. I grab something from each one that passes.
“I’m going to stuff my face with too much food and get tipsy on too much champagne.”
Rune grins. “I love everything about that.”
Me too.
I continue to wander and work the crowd, eyeing up the offerings on the trays of the servers.
And then I get a better idea—the dance floor.
It calls to my soul and has my toe tapping. I yearn to join the wave of bodies as guests shake and stomp to the powerful trombone solo of a live Dixieland Jazz band, the middle-aged witch on drums easing back in and upping the rhythm.
“Let’s go dance.” I turn to give Finn the first spin around the floor, but come up empty.
Where did he go?
I turn back and find that I’m alone. I twirl on the spot, searching for Finn, or Rune—even Sebastian, but there are too many people to pick them out in the crowd.
Merde.
I’ve somehow lost all three of my vampires.
“Josephine Dumont.”
I spin at my name being called and take in the Amazonian goddess that stands before me. At least, that’s what she seems like. The witch towers over me, and reminds me of Wonder Woman with dark hair pulled back into a stylish pony, and muscles that compliment her curves. Her figure is accentuated by a crimson dress—shiny panels of silk wrapped around her body like she was sewn into it.
“Summer Saint-Clair,” the woman introduces herself. “We haven’t had the chance to properly meet since you came to town.”
I have no idea whether Saint-Clair is a name I’m supposed to know or not.
I was praying that I would be able to avoid the political side of tonight’s event. I worry now, perhaps that was wishful thinking on my part.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Summer,” I say with a slight nod, hoping to skate through this conversation as smoothly and quickly as possible.
It’s difficult to read her expression behind the lacey black and red mask, but she accepts the handshake with a nod of her own, her grip firm and measured. “I suppose I’m expected to say the same—that it’s quite an honor to meet one of the infamous Dumont women—sadly, I can’t.”
So much for smooth and quick. Where’s Rune’s good luck medallion when I need it?
My mouth gapes for a long moment while I search for words to bridge the gap and dissolve the frost that Summer is bringing to this conversation.
“There’s no expectation at all. We’ve never met, and I just arrived, so I don’t know what I could have done to offend you enough to form a negative impression of me.”
I regret sounding catty, but oh well. She insulted my family first.
“No, we haven’t met, but every witch in New Orleans knows the Dumont traitors who betrayed them—your grandmother, your mother, and by extension, you.”
I stare at the rhinestones surrounding the eyes of Summer’s mask for a long moment, trying to push down the anger that swells in me.
It doesn’t work.
Instead, it comes spewing out of me in a rush. “My mother and my grandmother did everything in their power to protect their sisters and end a bloody war. My mom was murdered by Adelaide in a power grab and my grandmother gave up everything to protect this coven, and?—”
Summer interrupts me, barking a humorless laugh. “You can’t honestly believe that.”
“You can’t honestly believe they were traitors.”
Summer laughs again. “Of course they were. Claudette and Celine all but signed our magic over to the vampires and the werewolves, and you’ve gone over to the fanged side too.”
“I’m not on any side.”
“Says the woman who arrived with the Quarter’s three most powerful vampires on your arm like the power slut you are.”
My fingers curl into fists and it takes everything in me to be the better person. I told the boys I don’t want any drama tonight.
That goes for me too.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree.” The ‘go fuck yourself, bitch’ is implied but not spoken.
Her cold gaze focuses on something over my shoulder. Fintan is coming towards us. Rune isn’t the only one who cleaned up well tonight. Finn looks just as impressive as his sire.
His green tartan kilt compliments his copper hair, and the yellow detailing and matching mask makes his emerald eyes shine.
Finn cuts into the conversation at the exact perfect moment. “Sorry to interrupt, ladies. I hoped that Josephine would join me for a dance before the festivities of the night begin.”
He must have been listening in. Or maybe he felt how uncomfortable Summer was making me across our bond.
Either way, I’m grateful for the out.
“I would love to.” I take his offered hand, eager to escape this conversation. The touch is electric. It sends a surge of energy between our bodies that tingles like static.
“Enjoy the rest of your night,” Finn calls as we turn and leave Summer behind.
“Thanks for the save,” I say once we’re far enough away that she won’t overhear.
“I could sense you struggling from across the building.”
“Not surprising. I am so not cut out for all this political coven crap.” I’m starting to understand why Elara had reservations about coming here tonight.
“Anything I should be aware of?”
I can’t tell my over-protective mate that the bitch called me a vampire-loving power slut and a traitor like my mother and grandmother. That would end the evening in blood spray. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Well, let me know if it ever becomes more than you can handle.”
I squeeze his hand in mine. “Will do.”
By the time we find an open space among the other dancers, the song is dying down, petering out slowly and giving us a minute to sway. Finn wraps his arm around my waist, holding me close and turning in a lazy circle while I rest my head on his shoulder.
“I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind that there would be witches who blame my grandmother for how things turned out, but I…” I trail off, my gaze landing on Summer across the room where she’s talking with another witch, both of them glaring my way with obvious hostility. “I wasn’t prepared to deal with it tonight.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” Finn says, “And you don’t. Think about tonight as closing one chapter of your life and coming into a new era.”
I could use a fresh start like that.
“That’s a really good idea.”
“I know,” he says, a grin spreading across his face, dimples hidden behind his mask. “Now stop thinking and dance with me.”
Finn spins me as the tempo changes, and when I hit his chest again, my feet are moving on their own, following the Celt’s lead with an ease that shocks me. I love to dance, but I’ve never felt confident in my ability—especially not something as complicated as the Waltz.
With Finn, it doesn’t matter. We’re moving so quickly I don’t have the opportunity to overthink the steps. The whole room narrows down to the two of us until it’s just his hand on my hip and his graceful strides leading us across the dance floor.
With each twirl, a surge of exhilaration washes over me, a heady rush of adrenaline that leaves me breathless and panting into Finn’s chest in the next lull between songs.
“Where did you run off to?” I ask as we sway. “I turned around and you were all gone.”
“I may have been snooping,” Finn answers close to my ear, his breath tickling my curls. “I was hoping to find some clues about where the dagger might be.”
The mention of the sunstone dagger cuts through my good mood and puts me right back in the middle of reality.
“So there was an ulterior motive to you wanting to be my date tonight, was there?”
Finn frowns. “My only goal tonight is to share a dance with you, Josie. Stop worrying so much and enjoy your night with the dashing vampire who thinks the world of you.”
Sometimes my Celt is so smooth I think he’s using his ability on me and altering my emotions. He’s not—Finn’s effect on me is just that effortless. I’m positive he could take me from a total tailspin to a peaceful nap in a matter of minutes.
“Tonight was supposed to be a break from everything stressful, dangerous, and world-ending,” I say, unable to scrub thoughts of the sunstone dagger and werewolf attacks from my brain now that he’s brought it up.
“I’m sorry I mentioned it. Work time is over. There is only this night.” He twirls me around and sends me spinning so fast everything blurs in front of me and I’m afraid my feet will fumble in these heels and snag on my dress.
Before I can fall on my arse and embarrass myself, he’s there, catching me in his sturdy arms and setting the pace for our dance once more.
“Have I told you how absolutely radiant you are this evening, Miss Dumont?”
“I could stand to be told again,” I tease, caught by the brilliance of his emerald eyes behind his mask.
Finn smirks and twirls me once, twice, and again, before reeling me back in, his arms tight around my middle, our chests rising and falling in sync. “You are the most gorgeous, most bewitching, most divine being.”
I glance around. “I don’t know. There are a lot of beautiful people here.”
“I didn’t mean just here in this mansion or in this city. I meant across the entire globe.”
We break apart and he stretches his arms wide to emphasize his point and make me giggle.
“I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you.” His breath mingles with mine when we come together again. Nose to nose, he gives me a wicked smile. “And I’m not the only one.”
Finn spins me in his arms and suddenly he’s behind me, pulling me firmly against his broad chest, pointing us to where Rune watches from across the room.
I catch glimpses of the Viking between the bobbing heads and bodies flowing past where Finn and I stand in the middle of it all. “Do you have a problem with that? With Rune and I?”
He gives me a guilty smile. “As much as I want, I can’t keep you as my own. You are bound to him as well.”
“That isn’t what I asked, Fintan.” Though, with his hands running down my body, I don’t entirely remember what I asked in the first place.
“No,” he answers, fingers flexing where they skim my thigh, “I don’t have a problem with it.”
His clipped tone and the way his body tightens says otherwise.
“It doesn’t feel that way. It feels like you’re thinking you saw me first, so you get dibs.” As easily as he calms me down, since the night Rune drank from me, he has been riling me up.
It feels like our negative emotions might compound each other’s until one of us explodes.
“You don’t seriously believe I would be so immature, do you?”
I shrug. “It’s the way it feels over our bond.”
Finn frowns and seems to consider before he speaks again. “I don’t have a problem with you being with me and with Rune. You can be with whomever you so choose.”
“But…?” I prompt.
“But,” he looks at me like I’m being the difficult one here, “I find myself getting jealous—almost to the point of violence—when I learn about your time with Rune in passing or from a second party. It’s stupid, I know, but I haven’t figured out how to deal with that yet.”
My mouth falls open, but I’m not sure what to say. His reaction is fair—more than fair. How can I accuse him of not communicating with me when I haven’t been fully transparent with him?
“You are no less special to me. I adore you. You know that, right? You feel it.”
He meets my gaze and nods. “I do. Although, I’d like more time with you. It seems you’re always working out with Rune during our downtime, and I miss you.”
“Then let’s fix that. Tell me when and where and we’ll make a date of it.”
“You promise?”
“Absolutely.”
As the music swells and the dance nears its end, Fintan’s hold tightens ever so slightly, drawing me closer like he doesn’t want to let go. The final notes hang in the air, lingering as we come to a graceful halt and I’m left gazing into his green eyes, enraptured by the moment.
Finn pulls away, breaking the suspension of time and snapping me back to the ballroom. “Rune would like the next dance.”
“Sure, you two go ahead. I’ll get some wine.” I snort, but Finn pegs me with an unamused look.
At least Rune finds me funny. He chuckles as he glides through the dance floor towards us with a smirk, invading my space. “Finn is nowhere near as beautiful as you, Josie. Although,” he says, turning to waggle his thick brows at Finn, “if you want a dance, I’d be happy to oblige after I show our witch what real dancing looks like. None of that uptight waltz crap.”
“Don’t listen to him.” I lean in and press my lips to Finn’s, pulling him closer and trying to convey how much he means to me in our kiss. “We’ll figure it out together.” I hold his gaze for a long moment before Rune pulls me back into the throng of witches dancing.
He looks sad as Rune whisks me away and it opens a gnawing pit in my stomach, knowing I’m responsible.
Completing the unity bond with Rune may not have severed my connection with Fintan, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t had an impact.