23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter 23
D ante stared at the mingling crowd.
Every single Atlantean within the room had been invited because of their business connections or their bloodlines. Sometimes both. An ostentatious reminder of what it meant to belong to the ruling Atlantean class. The gala catered to the hedonistic. After all, it was a celebration of what Atlanteans were capable of.
It was exactly where Dante belonged.
He had spent centuries crafting the persona that demanded respect within the elite circle of Atlanteans. The same Atlanteans who would have sold their firstborns and entire bloodlines to be invited to the Jimourt. But now that he was here, he would much rather be spending time with Rieka. He needed to find the tomb; it was the missing piece to cementing his legacy within their history. Away from Rieka, he could ignore the protective streak he had recently acquired. He wouldn’t deviate from his plan. He needed Rieka to help find the tomb. And he could protect her. If she was a descendant of Vandana…he stopped the train of thought before it went too far. He wasn’t sure who else had been invited to the event.
“Dante, is it your intention to scare everyone away from you?” Sypha asked as they nodded to the space around him. “Anhur has clearly outdone himself.”
Sypha wasn’t exaggerating. House Azaes had transformed the ancient ballroom into a mythical landscape. A wintery wonderland in the middle of a desert. The gala would be talked about for centuries. As Anhur had intended.
Sypha handed him a crystal glass filled with amber liquid. Dante glanced around the room; jewels dripped off almost every guest. The serving staff wore expensive black suits, designed to complement, and not compete against, the bright colors worn by the guests.
What would Rieka have thought of the party? Despite Frankie’s request, he had chosen not to invite Rieka; he hadn’t wanted to be distracted. Or to give the other Houses an inkling that she was important to him.
“It is the latest fashion.” Sypha said as they nodded to their attire. Their tone was cool but calculated, but then everything Sypha did was steeped in deep reason.
It was why they worked so well together. And why, despite multiple ludicrous counteroffers, they still worked for him.
“Rieka is currently being escorted by Talik, who has kindly asked me to remind you that babysitting is not part of his duty statement.”
Dante turned his attention back to Sypha. His fingers tightened on the glass stem.
They delicately shrugged as if it should have not come as a surprise that Rieka was attending the ball. “Frankie asked me to make sure we invited Rieka,” Sypha said.
He need not worry; Talik would ensure that no one approached Rieka without her permission. “Did she want to attend?”
“There were minimal protests,” Sypha chuckled as they shook their head. “It is only fair that you know that Talik and I have placed a wager.”
The comment piqued his interest. “On what?”
Sypha smiled, lifting their untouched champagne flute as they took a step back. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be half as much fun.”
A flash of emerald caught his attention a moment before the whispers began. The dress was the exact color of the streaks in Rieka’s hair. Time seemed to stand still as the woman in front of him absorbed all his attention.
Defiant gold eyes stared back at him, daring him to move. A challenge he couldn’t refuse.
Rieka.
Mine.
The words whispered through his mind, instinctual rather than calculated, but no less dangerous. Lust surged through him. He forced it down. Now was not the time or the place.
He wasn’t the only one to notice Rieka’s presence. The dress emphasized her lean body, showing curves her normal black androgynous attire hid from view. Tumultuous curls cascaded halfway down her back. Rieka was breathtaking.
“Sypha can work miracles,” Rieka said as she walked up to him. Her eyes darted to the side as she smiled; the smile did not reach her eyes.
He was going to give Sypha a raise. Rieka was a goddess come to life. One that he wanted to strip and see if she tasted as good as she appeared.
“You look beautiful,” Dante said. It had nothing to do with the dress she wore. The fire that burned within Rieka shone through everything she did. It added an element of allure that no wealth or artificialness could buy. And the more astute Atlanteans in the room were aware of it.
“You don’t look half bad yourself.”
“Drink, milady?” the server asked, their gaze never leaving Rieka.
Dante fought the urge to steer the server away. “Is it what you were expecting?”
Rieka took a small sip of the champagne, her lipstick leaving a bloodred stain on the glass. “I didn’t know what to expect, but this—” Rieka nodded at their surroundings. “This is fantastical.”
Dante tried to imagine what the gala would be like to someone who had not been exposed to the lavish celebrations of the Houses. Even by their standards, there was an ethereal element to the ball that was not commonly seen at other Atlantean events.
“You could buy a small country with the gold and jewelry on display.”
“Perhaps,” Dante conceded. Or the loyalty of a peer. The ball was renowned for creating new allegiances and bloodlines. “One could say that about the bracelet you are wearing.” Another item Sypha had somehow found. He was going to have to discuss boundaries if they kept this up.
A pretty blush crossed Rieka’s features as she stared down at the piece of jewelry. “Sypha said it belongs to your collection.” Rieka half-turned, her skirt swirling around her. She kept her voice low enough that only he could hear her. “I would have assumed you would be surrounded by peers and admirers. Interesting, it isn’t just us mere humans you seem to scare.”
She stood next to him, her curves imprinted on his body and mind. Dante wanted everyone to disappear. He reached out and brushed an errant curl off her shoulder. Rieka’s eyes widened in response. He could feel the stares of the other Atlanteans as they watched him and Rieka. The murmurs grew louder as they recognized Rieka’s name and her role in identifying the statue of Vandana as a forgery.
He may have miscalculated the extent of the anger she would receive from some of the other members of the Houses. But there was no denying that Rieka was with him. No one would dare attack Rieka when she was under his protection. It would be considered a challenge to House Mneseus. Dante may not be the heir, but his bloodline alone placed him in a position of power. “Do I scare you?”
Rieka chewed her lower lip as her eyes widened, darkening with desire.
He wanted to drag her into a secluded corner and hear what his name sounded like on her lips when he tasted her.
“No,” Rieka said as she moved closer; her arm brushed against his.
“Cousin Dante.”
The intruder’s voice broke the spell Rieka had somehow entangled him in. He stared at her for a moment longer before he turned. “Chaucer.”
Dante had forgotten his younger cousin had been invited. It was not unexpected. Chaucer carried the Delacroix name and was the only other male born to their bloodline. He was also a notable scholar in his field.
“Rieka?” Chaucer sounded surprised and slightly confused. “I almost didn’t recognize you in a dress at a social function.”
“Chay,” Rieka laughed. “I’m not that bad.”
“Five years we worked together, and you never attended a single work event.” Chaucer turned to Dante, his eyes narrowed. “Not that you attended any of them, either.”
No. He had much preferred to send Talik as his delegate. Chaucer and Rieka’s conversation was light and friendly, but something was not quite right.
“I never had the right incentive,” Rieka said as she briefly glanced at Dante. “Nothing like being invited to a party that only happens once every five hundred years.”
Chaucer stared off in the distance before he turned back to Rieka. “I thought hybrids could not attend.”
Dante couldn’t sense any malice in his tone, but that could just mean that Chaucer had gotten better at masking his emotions. “Anhur has opened the invitations to a wider audience,” Dante responded. “His consort is human.”
Chaucer nodded. A flash of surprise crossed the younger Atlantean’s face, but it only lasted for a second. It was not a look he recognized.
Dante tilted his head toward Rieka. She appeared perfectly relaxed, except for the tight grip on the champagne flute. He placed his hand on her lower back. Rieka leaned into his touch. The move was subtle, but it sent a small thrill through him. “Excuse us, Chaucer.” Dante turned to Rieka. “I promised to show you the Atlantean treasure.”