Chapter Eighteen #2
“You invited the Eringhorn family,” she stated before he could say anything else, her voice rising an octave.
The fire in her chest died when he didn’t immediately answer and instead raked his gaze leisurely over her figure, drinking in every curve.
“I did,” he said after a long pause.
“What exactly is wrong with you?” she asked, her tone settling into a breathy rasp.
His deep, baritone voice caressed her ears. “A multitude of things, I assure you.”
The bond hummed between them in a pulse of magic, like ropes tethering them together. It was infuriating and her anger toward him only seemed to blossom the primal need in her body, unconsciously drawing her closer until she had removed all the space between their bodies.
With her stare anchored into his, she said, “You’re despicable.”
A wolfish grin widened his full lips. “And you are beautiful.”
“Stop flirting with me,” she blurted, not meaning for it to come out that way. “I shouldn’t have come. I want to return to my room.”
His expression tightened, his dark-gray stare eclipsed by his black, intricate mask. “Wolves do not flee from sheep, Miss Lovett. Unless you wish to prove to the Eringhorn family how easily you scare.”
“I thought I was a lamb.”
“You are certainly acting like one,” he bit out, making her wince. “So prove me wrong.”
Challenge threaded his expression, and it was only when Alexander cleared his throat that she remembered anyone else was in the room at all. They were surrounded by people, many of whom were looking directly at them.
“Is there any sign of the Avery family?” Alexander asked in a hushed tone.
Nathaniel’s glare flicked to Alexander, his lips hardening into a grimace. “No. Zachariah, Irene, and Katherine are stationed near the entrance and staircase.”
A rush of adrenaline washed through her chest. Those were the names of the other vampires.
She distinctly recalled Hartley telling her about them.
Irene served Nathaniel for years before being turned.
If only she could speak with them alone and tell them of the ritual, they might help her escape or convince Nathaniel not to go ahead with it.
After all, why would they have worked so hard to become a vampire just to be okay with their immortality being ripped away from them?
“Can you introduce me to them?” she asked, still reeling from the fact that the Eringhorn family were in attendance, while also suddenly filled with the need to show that she wouldn’t be run off by them.
Nathaniel was right, not that she would ever, ever admit that to him. He was arrogant enough already.
Nathaniel lowered his mask to reveal his furrowed dark brows, his lips twitching into a straight line. “Why?”
She held his stare. “I want to see if the vampires you turned are as conceited as you are.”
Alexander scoffed a laugh. “I assure you, no one could ever quite measure up.”
“Says the dandy,” Nathaniel quipped, and Charlotte noticed the sparkle in his eye and the way his dimple deepened when his lips curved. It was surprising, if not refreshing, to see him enjoy himself. Even if only for a minute.
Alexander tucked an unruly wave of blond hair behind his ear. “I take that as a compliment.”
Nathaniel actually smiled, one that reached his eyes, and she realized how deep their bond was for the first time.
Nathaniel’s hand landed on Alexander’s shoulder. “Will you give Miss Lovett and me a moment?”
Alexander’s chest heaved and one brow arched high. He looked at Charlotte and asked, “Miss Lovett?”
She nodded, her knees feeling as if they might buckle at any moment. They were surrounded by people and he seemed in better spirits today, so she felt safe, for now.
With that, Alexander walked away and toward Katherine and her friend.
Once he was out of earshot, Nathaniel wrapped his hand around her waist and leaned closer. “I meant what I said earlier. You look beautiful.”
She shrugged him away, despite wanting to do the very opposite. “You don’t get to just do that.”
“Do what?” he asked with hooded eyes.
“The thing that you do.”
“Oh, what thing is it I do?” he asked, eyes dropping to her clavicle.
“Act as if everything is well after you invited them.”
“Do not be angry,” Nathaniel said.
“How can I not be?”
“I invited them for your benefit,” he said and extended his hand, palm up, for her to take.
“What does that even mean?”
“You will see.”
She inhaled deeply, holding the breath for a moment in her lungs before blowing it out. “You are infuriating.”
“I know. Now, dance with me,” he said in a voice that could seduce the devil into giving up his throne. “Or would you have me beg?”
“Would you?” she asked.
“I’d never lower myself to that. Not even for you.”
His comment notwithstanding, she couldn’t help but wonder how that would look. Fantasies blossomed in her mind, heightened by vampire blood pulsing through her veins, spreading warmth between her legs.
He could likely sense her arousal, smell it even. Heat crept through her body, embarrassment forcing her to avert her gaze.
When he erased the little distance remaining between their bodies, she ran her hand over the fabric of his shirt, closing her eyes as she explored the tight muscles of his chest. Damned, he felt good.
A familiar cackle of laughter sounded nearby, and she glanced over her shoulder, spotting Baron and Baroness Ellenwood embroiled in a dance.
Unlike other balls, where dances were choreographed, this one had couples swaying to the music freely.
It was quite scandalous, much like the host, and she secretly enjoyed it.
Nathaniel’s fingers pressed into the sides of her chin, tilting her head back to meet him. “Eyes on me, love.”
Tingles erupted in her heart. He lifted her into his arms until her feet barely grazed the floor. The barest touch of his lips against her earlobe sent a tingle searing to where he’d bitten her last. “You have been drinking blood.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “I haven’t.”
She wasn’t sure why she had lied.
“I can smell it on you.” He leaned down, his lips ghosting over hers, her mouth parting.
“It helps my pain, and it makes me forget certain things.”
“Forget what?”
“That you want to kill me.”
He stopped dancing, his gray eyes gleaming when they dropped to her mouth. He gently tugged her bottom lip down, then released it to snap back into place. “It is not only your blood I crave, little lamb.”
His confessions sent a shockwave through her body. “It is not?”
“It is your soul.”
The confession swarmed butterflies into her stomach, all erratic and broken, pulling her somewhere between nausea and desire.
She could sense the carnal hunger burning behind his eyes. With a brush of his fingers along her clavicle, goosebumps blossomed over her skin, her body frozen under his riveting gaze.
All she could think about was surrendering to the desires of her body. To just give in before her next, panting breath.
“I need some air,” she said, the oxygen in the room suddenly too thick for her to swallow. “Is there somewhere I can go? I cannot breathe properly.”
Gently, his fingers landed around her waist. “Yes. Come with me.”
Pulled through the crowd, Charlotte barely glimpsed Alexander amidst laughter with Katherine before reaching the locked double doors leading out to an enclosed courtyard.
While he retrieved his keys and unlocked the door, Charlotte found the yellow-green eyes of Charles Eringhorn, Alice’s former betrothed, latching onto hers from the group of aristocrats gossiping at the side of the room.
Charles lowered his wine-red mask and hastened to her, his upper lip twitching. A sweep of blond hair was slicked back, his finger running along the length of his pronounced cheekbone. The smell of beeswax and tobacco smoke clung to his dark gray frock coat.
“Miss Lovett.” His voice was as smooth as spider’s silk. “How intriguing it is to see you here.”
It was polite to courtesy, and expected for her to give him her hand, but she felt the cold sting of loss so deeply that the thought of letting him touch her made her want to claw back the layers of her skin where his lips might brush her knuckles. Besides, he did not even bow.
“Mr. Eringhorn,” she spat, enunciating the Mr, knowing he hated his status as the untitled second son. “I too found myself disappointed when I was made aware of your presence here.”
He laughed coldly and said, “I am surprised to see you are out of mourning already. Not even two months after your mother and sister’s passing.”
“I am not, nor will I ever be out of mourning. I just care little for social decorum,” she said, fiddling with the lace of her dress.
“That much is obvious,” he said with a snarl. “Your vanity and lack of respect for the dead is abhorrent.”
“How dare you say that after everything you did?”
“You mean what your sister did.”
Before she could lunge at him, and ruin any shred remaining of her social standing, Nathaniel’s hand landed on her shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.
Charles’s nose twitched, his lips curling as he held back the vicious remark he dearly wanted to impart to her. Instead, he bowed and said, “Lord Sallow.”
“Mr. Eringhorn,” he replied in the most disinterested tone. “Where is your new bride?”
“She is feeling under the weather and could not attend.”
“Pity,” Nathaniel said in a tone that sounded anything but. “If you will excuse us, I must accompany Miss Lovett to the courtyard.”
“Of course. Have a good evening,” he said, eyes fixed upon Charlotte’s, jaw clenching. With a tense breath, he turned and returned to his friends.
Once he was gone, she spun on her heel and followed Nathaniel out into the empty, dark courtyard, sucking in a deep breath of smoggy air as he closed the doors behind them.
Her heart raced as the blood thirst moved through their bond, as if it was a living thing. Normally, she would fear being so close to him, but right then, all she could think about was punching him.