Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
HEARTS ON FIRE
Tonight is the ball to mark my eighteenth birthday. Another step on my journey towards the Raven throne. I try not to think about the last ball here. My father, broken and burnt. Kyle and I in my room. Death and destruction and lust, all tangled into one terrible evening.
Tonight will be different. Instead of hiding away, I’ll be the focus. The hunter, instead of the hunted.
Michael, as my lieutenant, escorts me to the ballroom. There are also several guards following us, on Bertrand’s orders. He’s recovered from his injuries, as have I, the faint bruises remaining on my throat covered by my Raven choker.
Michael’s arm brushes mine as we walk down the long hallway.
My bare skin tingles at the contact. He glances over, like he knows the effect he’s having on me.
I try to ignore how good he looks in the tailored navy suit, so dark it’s almost black, his pushed-back golden hair brushing the high collar, his shoulders broad beneath the fine fabric.
I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.
I can no longer deny I feel the same way. I’m stuck between two impossible choices. A fierce vampire mate, uniting two realms, making Raven strong. Or the choice of my heart. I know what I need to do. I just wish it wasn’t so difficult.
We haven’t had the chance to talk since the events in the War Room.
At least, not in the way he wants. He was furious, of course, when he heard about the attack on me.
We’ve also had to manage the situation with the Channel Islands, as well as prepare for the ball.
But I’ve been careful not to be alone with him, even though every part of me wants to fall into his arms.
‘You look nice,’ he says. A faint smirk, but there’s a gleam of appreciation in his eyes. ‘Apart from that necklace.’
Joaquin wanted to escort me to the ball, of course.
If it were any other party, I probably would have let him.
But this one signifies my imminent ascent to the Raven throne.
Lion are here, as well as Jaguar. And Scorpion’s ships were spotted last night, just outside our waters.
I want to show up as a ruler, not someone’s date.
Still, it hasn’t stopped him from staking his claim. I found a jade pendant on my pillow when I emerged from my shower, with a note.
Wear this for me, lovely one.
Part of me bristled at his presumption. The fact that the pendant perfectly matches the blue-green silk of my dress is beside the point.
‘What’s wrong with my necklace?’ We come to a stop before the double doors. The guards either side go to open them, but I gesture for them to wait.
‘Nothing.’ Michael’s smirk deepens, his gaze travelling down the plunging neckline of my gown.
‘Oh! You are infuriating! I should—’
‘We should go in. They’re expecting us.’ He’s still smirking. I don’t know whether to smack him or kiss him. But the double doors are opening, guards at attention. I smooth my hands down my dress. My mother, already in the room, clad in her customary red, claps her hands once, twice.
Everything stills. The vampires stop moving so perfectly it’s like a film being paused. Then, as one, they bow and curtsey as Michael enters the room, followed by me.
I keep my head high, my expression neutral, nodding to the occasional person as we cross the room.
I pause at a couple, the man dressed in dark robes.
He’s tall and lean, his head shaven, his dark-skinned face seemingly sculpted from bone, deep lines at either side of his mouth.
Anbesa, head of Lion. I incline my head, while Michael bows.
Darkness, I’m relieved to see Anbesa here, though I wonder how it feels for him to be in the room where his son died.
I wish I knew what to say. The woman at his side is voluptuous, her figure encased in layers of bright fabric, counterpoint to Anbesa’s darkness.
Her skin is the smooth brown of a chestnut, her face beautifully angular.
‘Greetings, Emelia,’ Anbesa says, his deep voice musical. Sadness lurks in his dark eyes. ‘May I present Tau, my lieutenant.’
The woman with him smiles, coming to take my hands. ‘Birthday blessings,’ she says. ‘And thank you for inviting us.’
‘It’s a pleasure to see you both. This is my lieutenant, Michael.’ He comes forward, bowing again. Unease ripples across Anbesa’s previously impassive countenance. Shit. Michael, of course, is Mistral’s son. And Anbesa’s son, Daniel, is dead because of Mistral.
The music starts again, vampires whirling in perfect unison.
My mother comes to join us. When she heard about what happened in the War Room, she was so angry she wanted to throw Joaquin and his entourage out of the house.
A compromise was reached; Joaquin’s people are gone, staying at another Raven property. Only Joaquin remains here.
My mother takes Anbesa’s hand, graceful as a willow. ‘Will you dance, my lord?’
He smiles, inclining his head. ‘It would be an honour, my lady.’
Michael steps forward, holding his hand out to Tau, who takes it. I try not to feel disappointed.
‘You wore it.’ Joaquin, resplendent in black silk, open to the smooth V of his chest, steps into my path. His tailored trousers highlight his long muscular legs. I swallow.
‘I did. Thank you.’ I dip my chin. ‘It matches my gown perfectly.’
‘I know.’ Joaquin smiles, his dark gaze liquid with desire. His hand comes to my waist, his violet and musk scent tantalising. ‘Shall we dance, beautiful one?’
I nod, letting him pull me close.
‘Perhaps,’ Joaquin murmurs, as he brings me into the twirling throng, ‘we could venture into the gardens again. I would like to take you there. You remember Versailles, don’t you?’
I blush, unable to help it, at the innuendo in his words. ‘I remember,’ I whisper.
‘I know. That dress of yours hides nothing.’ He grins. My blush deepens. My nipples are hard beneath the silk, pressing into him, my heart beating wildly.
‘Shall we?’ He dances me towards the long windows at the edge of the ballroom. I remember pulling the old wooden shutters across, my feet and dress sticky with blood. I place my hand between us, on his cool hard chest.
‘I can’t. Not tonight. This ball is for me, and to leave after one dance would be rude.’
He frowns, covering my hand with his as we sway. ‘Of course. I’m honoured, though, that you chose to have your first dance with me.’
I didn’t choose that at all. The music comes to an end, the dancers pausing.
‘If I may, Prince Joaquin.’ Michael stands there, tall and stern.
Joaquin can’t refuse, not without making a scene. He releases me, his smile tight. ‘Please, enjoy.’ As though he owns me and is lending me out.
But then I’m in Michael’s arms, the music starting once more. Darkness, this is torture. I can’t look at him as we move around the dance floor, weaving in and out of the dance.
On the pretext of twirling me, he pulls me close. ‘I want to talk to you. Alone,’ he murmurs in my ear, before spinning me away, our fingers the only point of contact. The layers of my silk skirt billow out, twining around my legs as I come back to him, my body full against his for a moment.
‘I can’t leave.’ I keep my voice a breath, conscious of being in a room full of people with preternatural hearing.
‘You can. Make an excuse.’
I sigh. He’s right. We need to talk. I have to put a stop to this, whatever it is.
‘Fine. When I get wine, go to the library. I’ll meet you there.’ Butterflies dance in my stomach.
He smiles, his hand coming to my waist once more as we move through the motions of the dance.
We balance so perfectly, moving at the same pace, on the same beat, as though we’re two halves of the same whole.
It’s different than the abandon of dancing with Joaquin, where I just have to let go while he takes over.
We turn and turn again, coming together and apart like clockwork.
Michael’s grey gaze darkens, his chest rising and falling more than it should, despite our exertion.
He looks slightly dazed as the dance ends, kissing my hand before relinquishing me to my next partner, a minor member of Raven nobility from the North, a young woman clad in misty-blue chiffon.
She’s pleasant enough, and we talk of this and that as we clap our hands and twirl, threading in and out of the dance.
She could be a friend, even if I can’t offer more.
We part with mutual smiles, and a promise for me to visit.
And all the while my mind is whirring, anticipation rising like sap inside me.
I cycle through the dances, counting them down in my head. Six, or seven at most, and then I can plead thirst. Blood dancers enter the room on the fifth dance, some vampires already starting to feed, even though the night is young.
At the end of my sixth dance, I nod to my partner and make my way off the dancefloor. A dark figure steps into my path. ‘Hello, my lovely,’ Joaquin purrs. ‘Shall we dance again?’ He stalks around me, his head tilted as he sniffs, breathing me in. It’s an utter predator’s movement, a claiming.
‘No,’ I say. ‘I need a moment. If you’ll excuse me…’ The words are polite, but I let him see the annoyance in my eyes. I’m the heir to Raven, his equal in every way, and this is my home. I’m not some prey to be marked and dominated.
His full mouth curves and he steps back, bowing. ‘Of course, dear one. Shall I escort you?’
‘No, thank you. There are plenty of guards. I’m sure there are many here who’ll dance with you while I’m gone.’
‘Such a shame, though, that I don’t wish to dance with any of them. Only you.’