Chapter 18 #2
She opens her mouth, then closes it again. A frustrated breath escapes her as she drains the rest of her wine and sets the empty glass on the counter.
“Forget it,” she mutters. “Let’s just go.”
I nod, finishing my own glass. It does nothing to satisfy the thirst I’d rather not acknowledge.
The ballroom is already crowded by the time we arrive.
Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over several hundred guests dressed in tailored tuxedos and designer gowns, their conversations blending into a low, indistinct hum beneath the orchestra.
There are more vampires in attendance than usual, no doubt a courtesy extended by the Foundation’s planning committee.
They likely assume familiar company will make me more comfortable.
It doesn’t.
I’ve never cared for large gatherings. Too many conversations to navigate, too many expectations to live up to. Too many eyes to avoid.
I straighten the front of my jacket before we step through the doors, settling my features into the pleasant neutrality expected of me. It’s a practiced expression– approachable enough to satisfy the photographers, while reserved enough to discourage prolonged conversation.
Beside me, Beatrix stills.
I’ve attended enough of these events that I barely register the chandeliers, the orchestra, or the elaborate floral displays anymore. Tonight, however, I find myself seeing the room through her eyes.
Her gaze sweeps slowly over the interior, taking it in. She doesn’t seem intimidated by the scale and grandeur of it all, but rather somewhat impressed. Then, almost imperceptibly, she squares her shoulders.
I recognize the change immediately.
In the same way I slip into the version of myself suitable for public appearances, she puts on a mask of her own. Her posture softens, a bright smile curving her lips. Whatever uncertainty she felt moments ago disappears completely before anyone can notice it was there.
The room, however, notices us.
I expect the first wave of attention. I’m the guest of honor this evening.
What surprises me is how quickly it shifts to the woman at my side.
Recognition gives way to curiosity, conversations quieting just enough for whispers to spread through the room. Rumors of my new source have already spread, but few have actually met her. Fewer still expected me to flaunt her publicly like this.
She shifts a little closer, lowering her voice. “Did the wine stain my teeth or something?”
My mouth twitches.
“They’re not staring at your teeth,” I murmur, settling a hand against the small of her back, right over her lotus tattoo. “Stay close.”
She falls into step without protest, gliding beside me as we make our way farther into the ballroom.
A passing waiter carries a tray of champagne flutes, and she plucks one free without breaking stride, thanking him with an easy smile.
Raising it to her lips, she takes a slow sip, her attention still wandering from one corner of the room to the next.
“I had no idea scientists were this fancy,” she remarks.
“They’re a boastful breed,” I reply dryly.
“Present company included?”
I dart her a glance. “Present company reluctantly included.”
She laughs softly, despite the statement being intended as fact rather than humor.
I guide us toward the far side of the ballroom, where the crowd is marginally slimmer. Observation is easier from the perimeter. Unfortunately, going unnoticed becomes considerably more difficult when one is the guest of honor– and impossible with Beatrix at my side.
The first couple approaches before we’ve even settled beside a cocktail table. Ordinarily, my expression is enough to discourage unnecessary conversation, but tonight, they’re drawn in by hers.
“Dr. Faulkner,” Simon Marx greets, dipping his chin. “Honored to have you join us.”
“Dr. Marx.” I give him a curt nod, hoping the brevity of my response will signal the end of the exchange.
It doesn’t.
A beat of awkward silence follows before Beatrix interjects, batting her lashes up at Simon. “It would’ve been pretty rude for him to skip his own award dinner.”
He lets out a polite laugh, immediately turning his attention to her. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Bex,” she chirps, extending her hand.
My jaw tightens as he takes it.
“Dr. Simon Marx, board member for the National Science Foundation.” He gestures toward the woman beside him. “And this is my wife, Tiana.”
The women greet one another as though they’ve been acquainted for years instead of seconds, immediately falling into a lively discussion about the floral arrangements near the podium, then debating whether the champagne has been watered down.
I simply watch, fascinated by Beatrix’s uncanny ability to make strangers feel like old friends.
I have precisely the opposite effect on people.
By the time Simon and Tiana excuse themselves, another pair has already begun making their way toward us.
Then another.
Before long, a pattern emerges. Every conversation begins the same way– they approach me, and they leave remembering her.
She memorizes names after hearing them only once, laughs easily, and answers questions instead of waiting to be asked them. Somehow, she manages to make each person feel as though they have her complete attention, even if only for a minute.
I’ve spent over a century learning how to command a room.
Beatrix accomplishes it in seconds without even appearing to try.
Men flirt with her. Women flirt with her. To my growing irritation, she seems to regard it all as harmless fun, charming each person she meets with the same coy smile.
Then another vampire approaches, instantly putting me on edge.
Santiago Aspen and I know each other well enough by reputation, if not personally. He’s young by vampire standards, wealthy, and charismatic. The sort who mistakes confidence for invincibility.
“Dr. Faulkner,” he greets smoothly, extending his hand.
I shake it once.
“Santiago.”
His attention shifts almost immediately to Beatrix, lips curving in a smirk. “And you must be the famous source I’ve been hearing so much about.”
“Bex,” she replies, smiling as she offers her hand.
He takes it, holding on longer than necessary.
“A pleasure,” he drawls, his gaze lingering. “Elliott’s done an admirable job of keeping you hidden.”
“He’s been keeping me busy in his lab,” she replies with a laugh.