Chapter Eighteen
Charlotte pondered how many humans they had invited to the ball to make it appear legitimate, not that the Avery witches would ever be fooled into thinking it wasn’t a trap. However, the clever caveat behind Nathaniel’s plan relied on that reticence.
She only hoped that no innocents would get caught in the crossfire of their supernatural war. Though unfortunately, Alexander’s words, spoken earlier that night when he collected her, did nothing to ease her nerves. What name had he used to address the arriving guests? That was it. Collateral.
Taking a sharp breath, she glanced at Alexander before descending the staircase and into the ballroom.
Her painted fingernails ran over the intricate carvings of the balustrade as she looked down at the guests.
There had to be at least four hundred people in attendance, most of them familiar faces from high society.
It shouldn’t have been surprising. Nathaniel was not just any vampire.
He was a lord, and sometimes she forgot that.
The velvet skirts of her dress billowed around her in a dark storm cloud, the glitter shimmering against a velvet stream of midnight black. The lace on the sleeves ran up her arms like vines, meeting the tips of her long, raven curls that tumbled over chest and shoulders.
“They’re all looking at me,” Charlotte whispered to Alexander when they reached the half-way point, and eyes climbed the steps to land on her. “I thought the mask would obscure my identity.”
He leaned in with a smirk and said, “That is not why they are looking, beauty.”
“You flatter me.”
He winked. “How are you feeling?”
“I am nervous,” she admitted as he walked her down the remaining steps and into the heart of the ballroom.
She spotted Katherine at the edge, deep in conversation with two women, her emerald dress in contrast with her tightly woven, blonde updo.
Despite her painted, silver mask, there was no mistaking those golden ringlets or brown eyes.
She caught Charlotte’s eyes, her pink lips tipping into a wicked smile.
“You are to stay with me for now,” Alexander said, walking them through masked figures twirling around them, each couple a world unto themselves, “until Nathaniel identifies the Avery family. Then you will be on his arm while I join Katherine.”
She nodded, looking around as they entered the throng. It was not only she who caught the attention of the nobles in attendance. Alexander moved with the grace of a swan, his golden hair loose around his shoulders, a silver mask over his face revealing those striking, green eyes.
Groups of people stood at the sides of the room, tipping back glasses of wine infused with vampire blood, some men dancing with other men, women kissing each other passionately, not caring who was watching.
Others remained in alcoves obscured by sheer drapes, staring at dancers on raised platforms like glittering ornaments hired for the pleasure of those watching.
The vampire blood infused into the drinks had lowered all the guests’ inhibitions. Even those she recognized in society who were normally straight-laced were libertine, their desires on show for all to see.
Turning away, she asked Alexander, “Why did you need to give everyone here your blood?”
“We need to be able to control them if anything happens, which is easier when they’re already out of sorts. Don’t feel bad. They’re enjoying themselves, are they not?”
They certainly were. A stab of envy shot through her. She missed the way the blood made her feel.
A waiter, with a black mask approached them. He offered a platter of tall glasses filled with bubbling, light-colored liquid. Charlotte grabbed one, thanked the server who walked away, and brought it to her lips.
Alexander shot her a look before she could take a sip. “Careful.”
“I need something to calm my nerves.”
“Undoubtedly, but we need you focused.”
“Please. As if I will be of much help with...” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Magic. Besides, it helps with my pain.”
After a brief pause, he let out a relenting sigh. “Who am I to say no? Not too much, though.”
She drank, smiling when the bubbles hit the back of her throat. It wasn’t just the high that captivated her, but the way it numbed the pain threading in her calves and back. The throbbing bite on her hip also dissolved when their blood reached her veins.
If she was going to get through the night, she couldn’t be collapsing in agony. She promised herself that after tonight, she wouldn’t touch it again. The last drops of champagne were sweet on her tongue, spreading warmth through her body, the tingling pooling in the apex of her groin.
She noticed him finishing a glass too and asked, “The blood does not affect you?” She clicked her tongue, feeling stupid once she heard the question aloud. “Of course it doesn’t.”
He laughed and took another large gulp. “As I’m filled with the stuff, Miss Lovett, no it does not.”
Sweat beaded on her forehead as Charlotte awkwardly maneuvered around the dancers when Alexander broke contact for a long minute. She found his arm again and took it.
The music was loud, the air thick with the scent of cloying perfume and sweat. She searched for a familiar face behind the elaborate masks but couldn’t see anyone she remotely recognized from society. Yet.
She moved deeper into the sea of people, the warmth of their bodies and swaths of fabric brushing against her. Heat rose in her cheeks as a couple whirled past, the man’s fingers raising his partner's skirt to her thigh.
“I’ve never been to a ball like this. It is so scandalous.”
Alexander laughed, the sound tinkling like the rising music. “Every good party should be.”
She shuffled from one foot to the other, picking at the lace on her gloves. “Is the Avery family here yet?”
His forest-green gaze scanned the room. “I don’t see them, but they very well could be. Do not worry,” he said with a comforting glance. “We won’t let them hurt you. Besides, they cannot practice thanks to your and Katherine’s efforts.”
Her stomach knotted. Alexander would not be so confident if he knew she had siphoned the magic from the sigil on the door, nullifying its usefulness.
Guilt shredded her insides, but she reminded herself that she had done it out of survival. If they destroyed their enemies tonight, then she would be forced to perform the ritual and she had no intention of dying for them.
She grabbed another glass, this time filled with wine and took a sip. The alcohol burned the back of her throat, but it did its only job—erasing the fevered anxiety spiking in her veins.
“Lord Sallow,” a voice boomed from nearby, dragging Charlotte’s attention to the helm of the ballroom.
Her breath hitched when she caught sight of him.
Nathaniel’s fingers enveloped the hand of the man he was greeting in a tight grip.
Her pulse raced as she eyed him leaning against the wall, so casual yet commanding.
He was tall, towering over most of the others.
With a flick of his fingers, he loosened the silk burgundy necktie around his throat and let it hang loosely over his black waistcoat.
Behind the matte black and crimson mask half covering his face, his furnace-gray eyes surveyed the room, his gaze unfocused, searching beyond the many faces as if intent on finding someone in particular.
His fingers trailed through the unruly mass of dark hair, the soft strands contrasting with the shorter beard running over his chiseled jawline.
With another sip of the richly spiced wine, she watched him over the rim of her glass.
Notes from the orchestra in the musician’s gallery rose into a crescendo, matching the pounding of her heart.
The dream, the bite, the massage, their talk in the attic—all came tumbling into her mind at once.
A confusing wash of lust and fear sent butterflies swarming erratically in her stomach.
Nathaniel’s eyes cut to hers and a trickle of wine dribbled down her chin.
Oh God. With a roll of her eyes, she shook her head and wiped the liquid from her beaded bodice. How damned humiliating.
Nathaniel’s voice filtered through the music. “Excuse me,” he said to the man next to him without looking away from Charlotte and walked toward her.
Wait. Was that the Baron Eringhorn and his wife standing behind them?
She recognized the triangular scar on the left side of his lip, and the slight upturn to his nose. An embroidered letter E shimmered against his orange and purple waistcoat, the colors of his family. He shook the hand of Baron Ellenwood, who stood beside his wife.
Her jaw slacked. “Who invited them?”
“Nathaniel,” Alexander said nonchalantly.
“What?” Her jaw slacked. Nathaniel well knew what they had done to her family.
She’d confided everything to him about how the Eringhorns destroyed her sister, how their son would cane Alice’s legs and embarrassed her.
They’d gone after Charlotte’s mother too, spreading the rumors of their worshiping the devil and practicing the dark arts.
Rage roiled through her body. Hands clenched into fists at her side, and puffs of heated breath came out of her nose.
“Breathe,” Alexander murmured. “Don’t do anything rash.”
She turned in time to see Nathaniel reach them, his eyes immediately dropping to her throat, then the rest of her.
“You bastard.” Her jaw clenched, nostrils flaring when she noticed a smirk flirting over Nathaniel’s lips.
He tilted his head, eyes wide. “Well, hello to you too, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He brushed a finger under her chin, which she pushed away. “Okay, little lamb. You look ravishing, by the way.”
“Oh, you would ravish me, I am sure.”
“I would take great pleasure in it,” he said with a purr, and her stomach clenched.
“Well, I would not.”
That was a colossal lie. God, there was something inherently wrong with her. When his eyes met hers, she wondered if he could see the pathetic longing that undoubtedly lingered in her gaze.