I flush and look out the window. Not going to the party is rather tempting, but of course, I have a job to do, so there’s no getting out of it. I turn and look back at him. “We’ll have lots of time alone later,” I whisper. I can’t believe I’ve said it. Embarrassment seeps through my pores.
He lifts my hand then, and brings it to his lips, places a feather light kiss to my inner wrist and then lets it drop back down. He continues to hold it in his lap and my heart beats a mile a minute. It feels like only mere seconds have passed and we’re already pulling through the foreboding steel gates of Whitfield’s mansion. What is it with evil supernatural beings and mansions? Theodore had one too. Perhaps big houses provide them with a sense of power and grandeur. Or simply make up for smaller appendages.
A man in a pressed suit takes Ethan’s car keys as we get out of the vehicle. He hops right in and drives off around to the rear of the building. Ethan presents me with his arm and we enter the house. Another smartly dressed man welcomes us in, and I can hear the sounds of music and merriment streaming from the room just ahead of us. I’m so anxious right now. Ethan must notice that my heart is beating way too fast because he tilts his head to look down at me quizzically.
“I’m just nervous,” I tell him. “I’ve never been to a party like this before.”
He nods and smiles softly, pulling me closer to him by putting his arm around my waist, possibly to make me feel more secure. My heart melts.
We walk through a large entrance hall with the highest ceiling I’ve ever seen. There isn’t much furniture but there are lots of sculptures and paintings all about, as well as an ornate marble staircase. It’s cold and unlived in, like a museum.
We go through a hall then which leads to a massive ballroom, and even though I don’t admire Whitfield in any way, shape or form, I have to admit that his party impresses me. All down the centre of the room there are long tables, decked out with expensive silk cloth, silver candelabras and a banquet to die for. Beyond the tables is a beautiful ballroom dance floor, like something out of a period novel. Soothing music streams from the string quartet who play in the far corner of the large room. This place is so opposite to Crimson it’s almost laughable.
The food makes my mouth water, and the only thing that keeps me from running over and stuffing my face is the fact that there are hundreds of vampires present. All of them are seated along the tables, laughing and talking, drinking and eating. Some have human companions, others don’t.
A server comes and greets us before leading us to the head of the main table where Whitfield, Eliza and many other important looking vampires are enjoying themselves. Lucas, Delilah and Dru are there too. Delilah has a long white dress on, it makes her look ethereal, like some kind of goddess come to earth. Dru wears a white shirt under a silky black waist coat, I think that’s about as dressed up as she’s willing to get. Eliza doesn’t look happy when she spots me, but I do my best to be brave and not allow her hostility to affect me.
I meet her eyes steadily, which takes every ounce of courage I have inside of me. She’s wearing an elegant dark purple dress, and her caramel hair is piled up high on her head, curls fall down framing her regal face. I wonder if she’s decided to defy Ethan by going ahead and informing her father of our unconventional relationship. Unconventional in the sense that I have never once provided him with blood.
Ethan pulls a chair out for me which is situated directly across the table from Eliza. Great. Then he takes the seat beside mine and nods for one of the servers to fill our glasses with wine. I opt for the white, since there’s something too blood-like about the red wine that’s currently being served. Most likely that’s just my over-active imagination.
“Ethan, my good friend,” Whitfield says in greeting, his voice is full of happiness. He actually seems a small bit drunk. Celebrating his victory a little prematurely, I would think. He’s going to be lethally angry if Finn is successful in rescuing Pamphrock. “Welcome, and you’ve brought your dear human companion.”
He turns to plant his gaze fully on me now. “My dear, you look positively ravishing.” His eyes are too intense, too full of something I can’t quite put my finger on. Patient determination perhaps. I pale at the idea of Whitfield biding his time until Ethan loses interest in me so that he can swoop in and claim me as his blood donor. If he knew the truth about me I don’t think he would be quite so patient.
“Thank you, sir,” I reply in a very small voice. I sip on some wine, and even though it’s probably the most expensive wine I have ever drank, it still burns as it goes down. This situation is just way too much for my nervous disposition. I’m carefully avoiding Eliza’s eyes as she glares daggers at me from across the table. She obviously isn’t pleased with her father paying me compliments.
She’s not at all discreet when she whispers under her breath, “Human whore.” Some of the vampires at the table have heard her. I think she might have had a bit too much to drink also, and didn’t realise that her remark would be noticed.
“Eliza!” Whitfield snaps. “Where are your manners?”
Eliza’s eyes blaze red as she stares intently at her father, most of the others seated at our table are carrying out their own conversations, so they aren’t paying much attention to what’s going on.
“That filth shouldn’t be here during your happy celebration, father, I apologise for being rude, but it’s the truth.” She sneers at me now, and her glowing red eyes make her look hungry. I hastily knock back the rest of my wine, and a server immediately appears to refill my glass. I look to him gratefully, I’m going to need a whole lot of Dutch courage to get through this night.
“Humans are what keep us alive dear daughter, you need to learn to respect that.” Whitfield replies, his vigilant eyes taking in the mechanics of the situation. Perhaps he’s taking note of the reason why Eliza hates me so much, and that’s because I’m an obstacle in the way of her and Ethan getting it
on.
I feel so awkward right now, I turn to Ethan and whisper, “Perhaps I should leave.”
He grips my hand and shakes his head. He doesn’t seem at all uncomfortable with the tension I’m causing by being present at the table. “You’re not going anywhere,” he replies quietly.
“What are you two whispering about?” Eliza hisses.
“I can see this getting old very soon,” I hear Lucas remark casually to Dru, who’s sitting beside him. She nods and grins, settling in to watch the drama unfold.
“It got old long before now,” says Ethan cuttingly to Lucas. I hadn’t realised he heard too because he’d been focusing his attention on Eliza.
I glance over at Whitfield, worried that he’ll get mad that Lucas and Ethan are being rude about his daughter. But he’s not mad, he’s sitting back in his chair, watching the exchange with a half amused, half bored look on his face. He catches me staring at him, and the boredom leaves his expression entirely, now he appears intrigued and his grin broadens.
Our eyes are locked in something of a challenge. It will be over my dead body that he ever gets to sink his fangs into me. Whitfield is powerful enough as it is, this city doesn’t need him being able to walk in the sun and becoming immortal.
Eliza glances between Ethan and Lucas and her anger seems to have increased tenfold. She screams and demands, “Stop talking about me like I’m not even here!” Her fangs have fully descended from her mouth, she stands and grabs her wine glass before hurling it at Ethan.
Yeah, Eliza’s hungry all right, hungry to have my guts for garters. Maybe even Ethan’s too. But he’s out of his chair, dodging the flying liquid before it has the chance to touch him. It splashes onto his vacated seat, making a terrible mess of the upholstery.
“Eliza, darling, please conduct yourself in a more lady like manner. I’m finding your attitude really very trying at the moment.” Whitfield says with a sigh, his honey coloured eyes reprimanding her. “You are ruining my joyous celebration.” He sounds like an angry housewife whose dinner party isn’t turning out the way she’d hoped. I have to make a conscious effort not to laugh.