Immediately, Eliza’s fangs retreat and the red leaves her eyes. She sits back down in her seat, whispering, “I apologise, Father.”
A server comes and wipes down Ethan’s chair, before carefully removing it and replacing it with a clean one. Ethan thanks him and sits back down, his expression cool and collected as though nothing has even transpired.
I watch as Whitfield picks a fancy silver knife up from his place setting, before tapping it three times to his wine glass. The loud sound goes ding, ding, dinging throughout the massive room. Immediately, all conversation hushes and the string quartet stops playing.
Whitfield makes a big show of clearing his throat before he stands and addresses the crowd. “My people,” he begins, “I would like to say a few brief words of thanks for your attendance here at my home tonight. It has been a long and bloody war, but finally victory is in our hands. We have lost many fine men and women to the battles, but their deaths were not in vain. Each and every one of them contributed to what we have now achieved, the entire city belongs to us, and what remains of the slayers, the dhamphirs, and the magic wielders will be erased from our world soon enough.”
That sounds an awful lot like ethnic cleansing to me, and I don’t like it one tiny bit. What right does Whitfield have to kill all those who remain on the North side just so that he can rule unchallenged? My eyes drift to Delilah, whose face is even paler than usual. I know exactly what she’s wondering, she’s wondering how she fits in with this plan of Whitfield’s. Our gazes meet and lock, she sees that I understand her predicament. I wish there was some way for me to communicate with her, to let her know that Whitfield’s victory is not as secure as he would like to believe.
I focus back on Whitfield’s speech, which seems to be drawing to an end. “I have many entertainments planned this evening, and I hope they will all contribute to your enjoyment. Now, let us eat and be merry, for after so many long years this city finally belongs to its rightful owners, the vampires.”
The gathering of vampires clap and cheer. I can’t bring myself to join them, even though I’m supposed to be pretending that I’m happy for them. I notice that Delilah isn’t clapping either. Then everyone begins to dig into the delicious spread of food that has been set out. For some reason my appetite has disappeared completely.
Ethan pulls his chair closer to mine and places one hand on the small of my back. In his other hand he has some kind of tiny pastry which he raises to my mouth. I meet his eyes and bite into it, it’s delicious, and yet still I can’t seem to enjoy it. This whole party is just plain wrong. I want to get my job done and get out of here.
The music has started up again and various couples take to the dance floor. Perhaps this will be a good moment to slip away and do what I came here to do in the first place. Just as I’m about to excuse myself to Ethan, I look up and find Whitfield standing before me.
He smiles at Ethan who returns the expression, then he looks to me. “Would you care to join me in a dance?” he asks, holding out his hand.
My heart literally drops to the floor like a ton of bricks. Panic sets in and I send Ethan a look of worry. He seems to take note of it when he turns to Whitfield. “I had hoped Tegan would share her first dance with me tonight, Jeremy.”
Whitfield brushes him off and says, “Nonsense, I’ll have her back to you in no time, my faithful warrior.” Then, quite abruptly, he grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet before leading me swiftly to the dance floor.
His grip is cold and I try to suppress the unpleasant shiver that runs through my body at his touch. When we are amid the other dancing couples Whitfield puts one arm around my waist, the other holds my hand up, so that we are dancing in the old fashioned way. Somehow I can’t imagine this vampire rocking out in a mosh pit. He’s wearing a silver grey suit that looks like it cost more than I earn in a year.
As he begins to lead me on the dance floor to the beautiful music that is playing, I can’t help but to look into his eyes. It’s like staring at a mangled corpse at the scene of a car crash, you want to look away, but you just can’t. Whitfield’s ancient eyes draw me to him in just the same way, and I know that the contact will not end well, but I can’t seem to pull my gaze from his.
“You know,” he says, twirling me around and then pulling me back to him, “I have always gotten what I wanted, no matter the price.”
“I can imagine,” I reply, trying not break down in terror. I don’t need to think too hard about what he’s referring to now.
“My warrior seems rather attached to you, but I think I can persuade him to give you up, eventually.”
“Why would you want to do that?” I ask, and I hate that my voice is all shaky.
“Because the promise of your blood is far too alluring,” he answers, his voice caressing me horribly, his breath slithering over my bare neck.
“I’m sure you have plenty of blood donors to keep you happy, having me won’t make much of a difference.” I try to sound nonchalant.
Whitfield’s grip on my hand tightens, as does his arm around my hip. “Wouldn’t you prefer to belong to the most powerful vampire in the city, rather than to his lackey?” Oh that’s rich, especially since Whitfield refers to Ethan as his “faithful warrior” to his face. I wonder what Ethan would have to say about how Whitfield speaks of him behind his back. In my head I think, I’d prefer to belong to my fucking self.
Instead I reply, “Power has never been much of a turn on for me, besides, I like Ethan,” just to twist the knife I gaze dreamily over at him where he sits chatting with Lucas. “He’s the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on.”
Whitfield’s gaze narrows and flashes red for a fraction of a second, but then he suppresses his anger and peers at me without any expression. A myriad of thoughts flash across his face, too quickly for me to decipher them.
“Might I cut in??
?? Ethan’s silky voice requests a moment later. I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s come to rescue me from Whitfield.
“Of course,” Whitfield replies, pulling my hand to his lips and kissing it. Ugh. “Until we meet again, my beauty.” Then he slips away into a group of older looking male vampires. Then again, when I say old, I mean early to mid forties. I haven’t yet seen any truly old vampires, none who look a day over forty-five anyway.
Ethan puts both arms around my waist, pulling me dangerously close to his body. He sways me to the music and I rest my head against his chest.
“This party is exhausting,” I mumble into his pristine black suit.
Ethan ducks down a little and whispers in my ear, “Don’t worry, you’ll be in bed soon enough.” His breath causes electricity to spike right through me.
I pull back and look up at him then. I take a moment to admire his features, the deep, blue grey eyes framed by long, dark lashes. Strong jaw, olive skin, straight Roman nose, bottom lip fuller than the top. I try not to focus on why I’m doing this, but it’s futile. This could be the very last time he looks at me with want in his eyes. If I fail tonight he’ll discover what I have been doing and there will be nothing left but hate.