Chapter Eleven
As Charlotte descended the grand staircase into the ballroom, her eyes flicked to Nathaniel, who was standing in the center under an iron chandelier. His dark gaze followed her down each mahogany step, the smoke in his irises flickering under the candlelight.
With a deep breath, she lifted the heavy skirts of her midnight black dress, the lace rough against her fingertips. Lace trim adorned the sleeves, patterns reminiscent of spiderwebs and the velvet layers of her skirt bounced with each step.
Her heart was still pounding from the encounter with what she only hoped was a spirit and not something far more sinister. But the dead were the least of her problems. If she didn’t find a way out of the ritual soon, she would join them.
With parted lips, he grumbled, “You came.”
“You wrote,” she said and walked to him, her gaze turning to the weeping, veiled stone statue behind him, surrounded by pillars and tall arched windows covered in black tracery and metal roses.
Filagree molding sprawled over the baroque, velvet crimson wallpaper, which led up to an ivory, vaulted ceiling that reminded her of a ribcage.
When her eyes landed back on him, he extended his hand.
“May I have this dance?”
Hesitantly, she took his hand, her heart racing when his strong fingers enclosed around hers.
“Why do you want to dance now?” she asked breathily.
“Because you will be with me on my arm all night on the eve of the ball.”
“So this is practice.”
“Yes,” he said in a low, grave tone, eyes fixed on her. “Come closer.”
He placed his other hand on her waist, tugging her closer. His gaze dropped to the curve of her lips, which she had painted in a deep, velvet crimson. “The dress suits you.”
The compliment only made her more nervous.
Music quickly filled the air. Charlotte whipped her head around to see a man in a dark suit over the instrument, his fingers dancing over the keys. Goosebumps bloomed over her arms and back as she closed her eyes, dragging her fingers over the back of his neck as he pulled her deeper into him.
I don’t know what version of you is real,” she confessed. “The predator or the gentleman.”
“I can be both. Everyone has a devil in them, Miss Lovett. If they try to convince you otherwise, run,” he teased, but it only sent goosebumps traveling all over her.
An uneasy, faint smile played on his lips, the corners creasing as if the gesture was foreign to him. She was certain the smile was meant to reassure her, but it did the very opposite. Was he trifling with her? Allowing her to feel a sliver of hope before leading her into slaughter?
He looked human, and handsome with his tousled black hair and that curl against his forehead that her fingers itched to smooth back. She wondered if it was as soft as it looked.
“You are flustered,” he said when she didn’t respond.
She steadied herself, allowing her body to move with his, a blush staining her cheeks. “I am acclimating myself.”
With a deep inhale, her chest rose and fell.
She could’ve sworn his eyes tracked the movement, but it was too quick to be sure.
She’d had a lifetime of pandering to everyone else’s wants.
It should not trouble her to do it now, especially when her life depended on it.
But dancing again, so soon after Alice, felt like a betrayal. “I’m also thinking about my sister.”
“What about her?”
“It will sound ridiculous,” she stated, her voice rising higher than she expected.
“Nothing is ridiculous.”
He at least sounded as if he meant that.
They moved without structure. Not steps, just slow turns of two people unexpectedly holding each other while the piano notes surged. Despite being in the arms of a monster, she found his closeness oddly comforting.
“I haven’t danced since she died,” Charlotte whispered against his shoulder.
“It was something we always did together. Unconventional, I know. We told our father it was a practice for upcoming balls, but in truth, we just enjoyed twirling around aimlessly. Doing that with someone else, it just feels like…” She paused, unsure of the right word to capture what she meant.
Nathaniel pulled her back to look at him, his brows deepening into the bridge of his nose. “Sacrilege.”
“Exactly,” she said breathlessly, trapped under his widening stare. “Although she stopped dancing long before her death.”
“Why?”
“The Eringhorn family. She was engaged to one of them and he would cane her legs when she missed a step. Eventually, my mother made up a lie to get her out of the engagement after they found out he had gotten one of his maids pregnant, but that entire family made it their mission to destroy our lives.”
“People are cruel.”
Charlotte’s lips tilted downward. “I wish I could blame them for my lack of humor.”
“You are grieving,” he said, tilting her chin so she would look at him, his thumb skimming her jaw. “It is okay to feel solemn.”
“That is the problem. I don’t feel sad all the time,” she admitted for the first time since her sister’s death. “I get moments where I don’t feel like my entire world is crumbling, and I’m just me again. Then I feel guilty, because I shouldn’t be happy while she’s…”
“I understand,” he said in a low grumble. “When we lose someone, it is not just them we mourn. So many things die along with them. If you’re alive for long enough, and lose enough people, you will eventually stop enjoying anything.”
Her heart rate picked up, thrumming in her ears so much that she could barely hear the piano. “Is that what happened to you?”
“For a time.” He paused and inhaled sharply. “Take it from a master of suppressing happiness out of solidarity. It is not what anyone who loved you would have wanted.”
There was something else in her chest that kept gnawing at her every time she came close to enjoying anything.
With a slow exhale, she nodded and said, “Whenever I feel happy, I feel guilty. As if I’m living a life stolen from Alice.
I just can’t understand why I am here and not her,” she admitted, unsure why she was suddenly confiding things she kept hidden to a vampire, but she also knew that if she had any chance of surviving she needed to nurture that shred of humanity.
“There is no answer to that,” he said. “People die, and sometimes, it is a tragedy.”
“Usually people try to give me some reason, like she died so I could discover some hidden strength or something,” she replied, gritting her teeth at the sentiments she had received by the many neighbors who paid a visit since the massacre.
“That is an awful burden to place upon you,” he stated, and the heaviness in her chest eased up. “I do not believe there is any grand plan where someone dies for the benefit of another. Your life is your own.”
“Careful, you’re showing your humanity,” she said, latching her eyes onto his.
“That,” he said, sliding his hand into hers with a gentleness she never expected from him, “Is a dangerous thing to believe.”
“Perhaps, but I have this ability,” she said, arching into his touch, and her breasts grazed his chest. “I can feel people, the things they’re hiding under the surface.”
He pressed his other hand firmly against her back, holding her in place. “What is it you feel from me?”
“That you want closeness and that is why you desire mortality, because you’re afraid of hurting things you want.”
“What about you?” he asked deeply, his gray, heavy-lidded stare boring into hers, pupils flaring. “Do you long for intimacy?”
Was he…flirting with her?
“Yes,” she said, hating the way her body moved of its own accord, leaning into him, longing to devour the inches between them. No. Focus. She needed information. “Only with someone I trust.”
His lips brushed the tip of her ear, his heavy exhale heating her lobe. “You can trust me. We want the same thing.”
Her blinks slowed as she looked up, leaning into his firm touch.
His lips pressed together, a low growl reverberating behind closed lips as he drank her in.
With a gentle nudge, he removed what little distance remained between them.
The scent of him was in her nose—a woody combination with cedar and musk.
Their faces were so close that if she lifted her chin, her lips would graze his.
“I found a card from your hide and seek game. The Hunt,” she blurted to stop herself from doing something she might regret.
“What about it?” he asked softly.
“I want to play.”
Her inhale stuttered when he stroked his thumb over her erratic pulse. “Why?”
“So I can win.”
A dark chuckle tumbled from his lips. “You believe you can outrun a vampire?”
“Maybe.”
“Then you are foolish.”
With a step back, she stared into his widening eyes, something dark lurking within. “Perhaps, but I want you to let me try anyway.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because if you win, I will break your curse.”
“You will break it anyway,” he said, his dark brows knitting together. “Or did you forget we have an agreement?”
She couldn’t admit the real reason without undoing all the rapport she’d built with him. She watched as his eyes darkened. The playfulness of minutes ago was now lost to centuries of paranoia.
“I did not forget,” she said when his fingers flexed at his side.
He stepped forward but stopped when she flinched. With a glance at her throat, he let out a low groan and said, “That’s enough dancing for one night.”
“Where are you going?” she asked when he turned his back to her to leave.
With a glance over his shoulder, he mumbled, “To feed. You should find Katherine.”
“Wait—” she called out, but he was already gone.
With a deep breath, she headed back to her room, the mark on her side worse in his absence.
Katherine would have to wait until tomorrow to practice.
She needed a bath and cuddles with Duke while she tried to figure out what on earth she was going to do now that The Hunt was out of the question?