Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
BEX
Elliott’s hand swallows mine as we climb the front steps of the mansion, my stiletto heels clipping against the stone. They’re the tallest pair I own, and he still towers over me by a good ten inches, forcing me to take two steps for every one of his.
Annoying.
Mostly hot, though, so I can’t really complain. There are worse things than being permanently attached to a massive vampire.
The front door swings open before we reach it, the butler’s usual dead-eyed stare greeting us from the other side.
I immediately break into a grin.
“Hey, Huxley!” I chirp, practically bouncing past him.
His granite face doesn’t so much as twitch as I waltz inside. Eli follows behind me, and Huxley gives him a respectful nod that he returns with equal solemnity, like two soldiers acknowledging each other across enemy lines.
Fucking weird.
“Which way?” I ask eagerly, pausing in the foyer just long enough to take in the familiar opulence.
I’ve been here enough times that the place shouldn’t impress me anymore, but it still does.
Vaulted ceilings soar overhead, gold gleams from every available surface, and the massive chandelier above us scatters light across the marble floor.
Thankfully, the urge to swing from it like a circus monkey has faded.
Mostly.
Huxley closes the door behind us with a soft click, then gestures silently toward the hall on the right.
I glance up at Elliott, whose expression is so deadpan he almost makes Huxley look animated. His hand comes to the small of my back, steering me in the indicated direction.
“You could at least pretend you want to be here,” I whisper, elbowing him in the side.
“I do want to be here,” he murmurs.
“Don’t lie to me.”
His gaze drops, dark eyes meeting mine through the lenses of his glasses. “I’d never lie to you, Beatrix.”
I huff and roll my eyes, but a reluctant little smile tugs at my mouth.
I’ve given up trying to correct him on the name thing. It’s always Beatrix with Elliott. Never Bex.
Coming from anyone else, my full name makes me feel like I’m either in trouble or filling out government paperwork.
From him, though, I swear it sounds different.
Maybe it’s the way he says it, every syllable deliberate in that deep, rich voice of his.
Or maybe it’s because no one else calls me that, so hearing it from him feels weirdly intimate, like something that belongs to just us.
Whatever the reason, I stopped minding somewhere along the way.
And though I’d never admit it to him, I even kinda like it.
The farther we venture down the hall, the more obvious our destination becomes. Sounds drift toward us– the low pulse of music, the oft murmur of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter. I shift closer to Elliott on instinct, anticipation winding tighter in my belly with every step.
I’ve been hassling Taylor about inviting me to one of these ‘parties’ for months. I’m a little offended it’s taken this long, but at least we’re here now.
Elliott guides me toward a set of double doors near the end of the dark hallway, one cracked open just enough to spill a sliver of amber light across the floor. He pushes it wider with one hand, and I’m hit in the face with a flood of horny energy.
Holy shit.
The entire lounge drips with decadence. The lights are low, sultry music humming beneath the murmur of voices.
The air is warm and heavy with incense, expensive perfume, and sex.
A fully stocked bar occupies one corner, and an enormous bed takes up the center of the room, the remaining space filled with low sofas, velvet chairs, and sprawling cushions.
Bodies are everywhere– all shapes, sizes, and complexions.
Humans and vampires mingle in various stages of undress, some drinking and talking casually as if this were any other cocktail party, while others are very clearly here for the carnal pleasures.
My gaze catches on the five-way currently taking place on the bed, and my brows shoot up.
Okay, so Taylor definitely wasn’t exaggerating.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think we’d crashed the world’s most expensive brothel, but apparently this is just how the vampire elite let their hair down.
I try not to look as impressed as I feel while I take it all in.
James is easy to spot. He’s lounging on a black leather sofa near the door with Taylor sprawled across his lap, dressed in his usual black-on-black while she wears a green silk dress that molds to her curves like a second skin.
Her chestnut hair spills loose around her shoulders, and she’s scanning the room with the same wide-eyed fascination I’m trying considerably harder to conceal.
James, meanwhile, looks bored with everyone except the woman curled up against him.
Elliott steers us toward them, his hand never leaving the small of my back.
I get the sense he’s using me as a shield against socializing, which is fine.
I’m using him as a shield against feeling wildly out of place in a room full of people who probably spend more on a bottle of wine than I used to make in a year.
“Glad you could make it,” James says, his voice low but carrying easily over the music.
Elliott inclines his chin in greeting. “Beatrix insisted.”
Taylor whips her head in our direction, lips splitting into a grin the second our eyes meet.
“Bex!” she gushes, perking up and making grabby hands at me.
I laugh and step into her reach, letting her pull me down for a hug before dropping onto the sofa beside her.
“Well?” she asks, grin widening even further as she gestures around the room. “Is it everything you expected?”
I sweep my gaze around again, feigning boredom. “Not nearly enough people are fucking yet.”
She rolls her eyes, then looks up at Eli. “Bite her for me, would ya?”
His mouth twitches. “She bites back.”
Taylor giggles, and James tugs her closer again, slinging an arm around her shoulders.
The two of them make it look easy. Being together, being content. Existing in their own little orbit without giving a single fuck about the world around them.
Then again, I suppose that’s become pretty easy for me and Eli lately, too.
James looks toward him, nodding to the empty space on his other side, and Elliott takes a seat. The two of them immediately lapse into the kind of low, serious conversation that practically begs to be eavesdropped on.
Naturally, I oblige.
“The council has requested an audience with me,” James murmurs. “They want further details surrounding Vincent’s disappearance.”
Eli’s jaw tightens, though nothing else in his expression changes. “Should we be concerned?”
“No.” James lifts his whiskey and takes a measured sip. “Though did you have to kill him?”
“He challenged my claim,” Elliott growls. “Surely you understand why I couldn’t allow that to go unanswered.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly.” James sighs, lowering his glass to his knee. “I’ll handle it. This region is my jurisdiction, so they’ll ultimately have to accept my judgment on the matter. I’d just hoped we could avoid any unnecessary scrutiny.”
“Perhaps you can distract them with the European Bite expansion,” Elliott suggests.
“They are easily distracted by the promise of lining their pockets,” James agrees.
Their conversation shifts to some boring business shit about first quarter profits, and I glance at Taylor, a joke about uptight vampire execs on the tip of my tongue.
She isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to what the men are talking about, though.
Her eyes are roaming eagerly around the room, drinking in the debauchery unfolding around us with absolutely zero concern for ominous vampire politics.
Fair enough.
I sweep my gaze around, finding that everywhere I look is a feast for the eyes.
A leggy lady vamp holds a leash in one hand and a riding crop in the other, a bright-eyed donor collared at her feet.
Two male vamps share a pretty blonde, fucking her from both ends.
Taylor can’t seem to focus on a single scene, her attention bouncing from one to the next.
“Never knew you were such a deviant,” I tease, elbowing her.
“Oh shut up.” She drags her attention back to me with a soft laugh. “As if you’re one to talk.”
“Nah, I’m definitely not.” I chuckle, settling deeper into the sofa. “Although… the whole group-sex thing has kinda lost its luster these days.”
Taylor arches a brow. “He’s that good, huh?”
I grin smugly. “Let’s just say he doesn’t leave me wanting for anything.”
“Atta girl.” She grins like a cat, then her expression softens, eyes going all round and wistful. “I’m happy for you, Bex. You deserve this.”
My smile falters.
Of course she has to go and make it sentimental.
“What even is happiness, really?” I sigh, waving a hand dismissively.
She gives me a loaded look. “I think you know.”
I try to play it off, but my gaze automatically drifts to Elliott. He looks ridiculously handsome tonight in his perfectly tailored dark suit, his glasses catching a faint glint from the low lights. His eyes are already on me, like always. We share a look, and my chest does a stupid little squeeze.
Yeah. I think I do.
“Drink?” Elliott asks, rising to his feet.
“Sure.”
He offers me his hand, and I place mine in it without a second thought, his grip firm as he pulls me to my feet. Then he leads me toward the bar, the two of us weaving through the bodies scattered around the room.
He orders wine for himself and whiskey for me, and the bartender– dressed in nothing but a tiny pair of briefs and a bow tie– slides our drinks across the counter with a wink.
“Cheers,” I say, tapping my glass against Elliott’s.
I take a sip of whiskey, and his hand finds its way to my hip, making my pulse skitter. We turn from the bar and are immediately intercepted by another familiar face.