Clad in smooth white marble, the hall stretched tall and wide, with dozens of thick columns dressed in silver and wild orchids, broad organza ribbons, and twinkling lights. The ceiling was domed and covered in beautiful paintings and silver molding details. Large round tables bordered the main dancefloor, with pristine white tablecloths, sumptuous floral arrangements, fine crystal, and porcelain dinnerware. The chairs were also dressed in white, the backs tied with silvery organza ribbons, the bows adorned with shimmering pearls and wild orchids.
Enormous crystal chandeliers with silver stems hung from the ceiling, casting a pale amber light that added warmth to the overall cool white. A live band performed a lighthearted mixture of tribal and orchestral songs, combining both Earthly and Eritopian cultures in a pleasant mélange that beckoned wedding guests to dance and celebrate the day’s events.
Dinner was served in several courses, with young incubi and succubi in snug white uniforms tending to the guests, filling up the spiced rosewater pitchers and fruit bowls. The non-vampire guests ate and drank like kings, alternating with short dances between courses. We were all treated to some of the local specialties, and pitchers of fresh animal blood for us vampires—both Eritopian and Shadian—some with an added twist of peppered spices and floral infusions that I, for one, had never tried before.
Perhaps my favorite part of the entire wedding party was the cake—not that I could eat it, but what a sight to behold! It was huge and beautifully sculpted, with frilly frosting and sugar pearls. Anjani and Jovi cut into it while we all took pictures to savor the moment forever. They were a gorgeous and funny couple, and the way they looked at one another often made me swoon and wonder if I’d ever find someone whose gaze would be as full of love and adoration as Jovi’s. What they had was precious and rare, and I genuinely wished them nothing but happiness.
I spent most of my time at our table, with Fiona and Avril. They were the Shadians I was closest to, mainly because we trained a lot together. I also didn’t want to miss out on the throwing of the bouquet or the garter “ceremony” —Avril, Fiona, and I had placed a little wager as to how long it would take Jovi to get the garter off Anjani. I didn’t have much faith in him on that end, but Fiona was quite optimistic.
The evening had yet to set, and the late afternoon shades of red were pouring through the hall through wide, open windows. More and more people started dancing, Shadians and Eritopians combined, as the music got louder and the rhythm hastened. Two gorgeous incubi came over and invited Fiona and Avril to dance—in all fairness, all incubi were beautiful, but these two were something else entirely, like fashion models with medium-length black hair, piercing bluish green eyes, and sharp, masculine features that could make any girl’s temperature rise.
I was left on my own for a while, occasionally glancing at my parents on the dancefloor, and capturing slivers of conversation between Benedict and Yelena. Marion and Grandpa Lucas came back to the table, breathing heavily and laughing as they sat down and emptied a pitcher of blood.
“Why aren’t you dancing?” Marion asked me with a smile.
“I did dance.” I shrugged, hoping they hadn’t noticed that I’d been doing the exact opposite, politely turning down every guy who had come over to ask me to dance. “Just resting my feet a little!”
I didn’t know why I felt the need to lie about that. Maybe it was about keeping up appearances. I honestly didn’t want to dance with anyone, but I didn’t want anyone to think I wasn’t having fun—from what I could tell, you weren’t really enjoying yourself unless you were dancing. At least, that seemed like the overall wedding party atmosphere. Normally, I would’ve just told my family that I didn’t feel like it. Which was only partially true.
I did feel like it, but with just one person in particular. I glanced across the banquet hall and saw Patrik standing by the wall, next to Draven and Serena, Ori and Malachy. They were talking and occasionally laughing, and I couldn’t help but smile whenever Patrik smiled, his lips stretching to reveal his white teeth. They formed a beautiful contrast against his slight tan and black hair. His inky curls had been cut to a medium length, covering the tips of his ears in a way that reminded me of ancient Greek sculptures.
I stood up and moved closer to one of the columns, wanting to simply disappear from the public eye and look at Patrik from afar. The Druid was truly a handsome man, with steely blue eyes, a smile that unraveled me every time, a broad frame, and long legs. He knew how to dress in a way that accentuated his best features. He wasn’t infatuated with himself or anything like that, but he seemed to look good at any time in an effortless manner. Whether it was instinct or just preparation, Patrik Raymer was always dressed to look his part, and gathered the hearts of many ladies around Luceria.
The only problem was that Patrik didn’t exactly have a heart to give back, and it was the main reason I kept my distance. I liked him a lot, but I’d already accepted the fact that he would never look at me that way. Patrik had lost the love of his life three months ago, during the war with Azazel. He’d spent decades under the evil Druid’s control spell, stuck in Destroyer form with the lower body of a massive black snake, and he’d put up with a lot to keep Kyana safe. Kyana, a beautiful Lamia and Tamara’s sister, had been captured by Azazel and held as leverage in order to get Patrik to comply.
Patrik was good and loyal, and would’ve otherwise killed himself rather than do Azazel’s bidding. But he chose to live, forced to do horrible things in Destroyer form, in order to protect Kyana. She died shortly after Vita released her from the dungeons below, and it tore Patrik apart. After all those years, after all that suffering, Patrik had finally been given the much-needed relief of seeing Kyana free, only to lose her to Destroyers a day later.
I first saw him when we were first brought to the throne room, right after the time lapse and memory shroud were lifted from Eritopia. My heart thudded at the sight of him, but there was so much pain pouring out of him, I didn’t even dare to look at him afterwards. Once I was reassigned to the Calliope GASP base, we became part of the same team. Patrik was a senior officer, experienced and strong, resourceful, and simply wonderful to be around. But I could tell that he was still grieving. The sadness in his eyes was impossible to ignore, especially when he did his best to stay away from the couples around him.
I truly admired him, and felt pure exhilaration whenever he stopped by during combat training sessions to check my progress with specific Eritopian weapons. I was attracted to him on many levels, but I always held it in. I never even thought of showing or telling him how I felt. I couldn’t. He was grieving, and a high-ranking GASP officer. I was a vampire with no previous relationship experience. I’d yet to even kiss a guy.
Three Lamias dressed in fine red silk dresses hovered around Patrik, sipping from their spiced rose drinks and giving him seductive smiles. He smiled back, and I couldn’t help but feel my stomach churn. Of course he’d be more likely to be interested in Lamias—they were so beautiful, so downright sexy, and confident in their revealing outfits, their lovely reddish scales covering their arms and backs.
And I was… Well, I was me. Fast, always talking, almost never able to focus on something for more than five minutes at once, restless, and blunt. My brown hair was always in a ponytail, and no one, other than my parents, had ever seen it loose. My dress was long, tight and a faded shade of blue chiffon, snug on my curves with a discreet, rectangular neckline—it was nothing compared to what the Lamias were wearing. And the slight Scottish accent I’d inherited didn’t help either. I could hear the Lamias’ soft voices from across the dancefloor, by the opposite wall from where I was, their words pouring out melodiously toward Patrik.
“Dance with us, Patrik,” one of them said, winking at him. “You’ve been alone for too long, and you know we’d be more than happy to put a smile on your face…”
All three of them, I thought to myself, feeling my eyebrows jump. I held my breath, wondering if Patrik would take them up on their offer. There
was a lot of subtext beneath that dance invitation, clearly.
“Thank you.” He gave them a polite nod and a half-smile. “But I’m not a good dancer, and you would end up frustrated, and with throbbing feet.”
The Lamias giggled but stayed around, chatting and occasionally glancing at Patrik, while he focused on his conversations with Draven and Serena. Ori and Malachy eventually took two of the Lamias for a spin on the dancefloor, while the third lingered by the spiced rosewater next to Patrik, where the succubi’s proprietary celebratory drink poured out of a beautiful silver fountain, beckoning anyone to help themselves.
But then something unexpected happened. Patrik’s gaze left the conversation and moved around the hall, and stopped when it found me. I felt my heart skip a beat. I looked away, pretending to watch Avril and Fiona dancing with their incubus partners. My cheeks burned as I glanced back at Patrik after half a minute, and noticed he was once again focused on Draven.
I exhaled, feeling like a third grader who’d just been noticed by her crush. Well, I could’ve replaced the “third grader” with my name and gotten a more accurate description. My gaze settled on him for a good minute, wondering what his touch would feel like on my face, when Patrik looked directly at me again. His blue eyes captured mine, sending chills and heatwaves down my spine at the same time.
I held my breath, unable to look away. I lost track of time. It could have been a minute or a second. I couldn’t tell. All I could see were two pools of intense blue peering into my very soul, as my pulse went on a rampage.
Patrik then straightened his back and started walking toward me, a sea of dancing people still left between us. I wondered what he was doing and whether he was actually coming to talk to me. Or was he going to ask me to dance with him? My heart fluttered and stomped around in my chest like a bipolar tempest, stricken with panic and excitement all at once.
“You’re not standing idly by for another minute!” The voice of Jovi’s brother Dmitri pierced through from my right, and I momentarily broke eye contact with Patrik.
“Huh? What?” I managed.
Dmitri was grinning, mischievous as usual, almost a carbon copy of Jovi. He took my hand and dragged me onto the dancefloor. I couldn’t help but laugh as he spun me around, and I tried to keep up without losing my balance and falling flat on my face.
He always did that. He hated seeing me alone and enjoyed making me laugh. Dmitri was also a good dancer and one of the few creatures in The Shade who knew how much I actually loved to dance, as he’d accidentally seen me rehearsing some tango moves with Arwen after her trip to Argentina a few years back.
I realized then that Dmitri’s distraction had taken my focus away from Patrik, who’d been moving through the crowd, and I’d been tempted to think he’d been headed toward me. I quickly looked around and saw him standing quietly on the edge of the dancefloor, glancing around. Dmitri held me, then turned me around in a broad pirouette. I got a quick glimpse of Patrik, our eyes meeting again for a split second.
Then I lost sight of him once more, and when I found him again, he was already walking back to Draven and Serena. I looked at Dmitri, who was beaming as he led me through the dance, and couldn’t help but think that he’d popped up to take me dancing at the wrong time.
“I told you, I’m not letting this evening pass without seeing you dance.” Dmitri smirked, his boyish expression making me giggle. In many ways he’d been like a little brother to me, as he’d grown up without Jovi and Aida and had felt the need for a sibling.
“All you had to do was let me stand there, and someone would’ve eventually asked me to dance. You didn’t have to take matters into your own hands,” I said.
“Yeah, right, liar! You’ve been turning people down all afternoon.” Dmitri winked. “Tell that to someone who doesn’t know you!”
I laughed, partly at his uncanny deduction, but mostly at myself for thinking that Dmitri might have actually inadvertently stopped Patrik from asking me to dance. As soon as I looked around again, I saw the Druid talking to the Lamia by the spiced rosewater fountain. They were smiling and clinking glasses.
As if anything could ever happen with the Druid and me, I thought to myself with a sigh, and danced through the rest of the song. I shook away the idea of Patrik walking toward me.
I’d most likely imagined it.
Avril
(Daughter of Lucas & Marion)
The incubus I’d been dancing with was a sensational partner. For a soldier in Luceria’s defense unit, Galen sure knew how to move and lead the way across the dancefloor. He was also shameless with his incubus nature, keeping me light on my feet and giggling throughout the entire song. Once the final drum kicks played, however, I politely removed myself from his seductive hold, looking for some fresh air on one of the balconies on the other side of the hall. He didn’t really want to let go, asking me for another dance, but Bijarki had intervened with a dry smile and cold gray eyes, inviting Galen to find another dance partner.
I felt thankful to have Vita’s husband around. He’d become good friends with my parents in these past three months, often visiting our GASP base in The Shade to discuss various military issues with Tenebris.
“I promised your parents I’d look after you,” Bijarki said gently, nodding toward the main exit. “You might want to put some distance between yourself and Galen now. He has quite the impact on the ladies, in general…”
I couldn’t help but giggle, nodding my agreement. Bijarki had been very protective of Fiona and me, since we’d both been genuinely fascinated and interested by the incubi from the first day we’d set foot on Calliope. We’d found their natural effect to be enticing, but we knew not to pursue the attraction unless it felt genuine in their absence. Bijarki glanced around and noticed Fiona giggling with her incubus dance partner, then raised an eyebrow.
“Speaking of which, it seems I need to hover over Fiona, too.” He sighed.
“Thank you, Bijarki.” I laughed lightly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Unlike most incubi, he was quite adept at keeping his seductive nature under control. From what Draven and Serena had told me, his desire for restraint had emerged only after he’d met Vita. Until then, he’d been as shameless as Galen and Shen, Fiona’s partner.
My senses were enhanced from the spiced rosewater, and, combined with Galen’s incubus nature, I was dealing with heatwaves coursing through my body. I left the banquet hall and checked my hair in one of the hallway mirrors. Other guests passed by me, some heading back inside and others going back up to the platform. I’d enlisted Shayla’s help with a designer-style outfit, and she’d more than delivered.
The dress was superb, made of three pieces and mimicking the 1950s style, with a waspy waist and a skirt that revealed the lower half of my calves and my baby-doll pumps. Shayla had used a thin and soft type of pale, grayish pink chiffon for the outfit, molded on a tight corset that really brought out my round chest and hourglass figure before it vanished into the skirt. She’d completed the look with a slim bolero that covered my arms and only half of both shoulders, accentuating the length of my neck and somehow bringing out my hazel eyes.
My blond-highlighted hair was pinned back with pearl pins and faux flowers, and I loved the way it all fit me; it gave me a mild confidence boost and a spring in my step.
I looked around, then moved down the hallway, searching for one of the secluded balconies farther away from the banquet hall’s main entrance. The incubus’s effect was still making my blood sizzle. Sure, Galen was as hot as a Los Angeles sidewalk on a July day, but I wasn’t really attracted to him per se.
A sniff to my left as I passed one of the balconies made me turn my head, and I stilled, noticing Hansa looking up at the now-purplish night sky. She was on a chair, slumped against the white marble railing, her silver sandal pumps on the floor next to her bare feet, as she cried and sipped from a pitcher of spiced rosewater.
I couldn’t stop myself from moving closer to her, and I sat in the spare
chair in front of her. I didn’t say anything for a while, and neither did Hansa. Even with tears streaming down her cheeks, she looked ravishing, her thick, silky black hair undulating over one shoulder.
“Are you okay, Hansa?” I finally asked.
I’d never seen her like this before. She was a warrior, her voice booming across the Plateau on Mount Zur during our training sessions, her sword blows hard and unforgiving. It had already been a surprise to see her as a bridesmaid in a silk dress. Watching her sit like this, crying by herself, bordered on shocking.
“Not really, no,” she managed to say between hiccups.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.” She looked at me, her emerald-gold eyes glazed with tears and her lower lip trembling. She took another sip of her drink, holding the pitcher with both hands. I had a feeling her state might have been amplified by the spiced rosewater, but I’d never seen anyone get so sad from drinking it; hence, there was no precedent for me to use for comparison.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“I… I don’t know.” She sighed. “I’ve been so stressed about the wedding and making it all perfect for Anjani that I’ve bottled everything up and felt like I was about to explode. I also haven’t seen Izora in a month, since I last checked in on her on Persea. I likely won’t be able to see her for another month, as per her request, and I miss her and that has taken its toll on me, too. I needed something to relax me, so I asked Ori to help me out with a potion or something to take the edge off, which he did. I emptied the flask by the time I walked down the aisle, and as soon as the ceremony was over, I knew I could breathe and unwind again. And yet, here I am, weeping on a balcony like a little girl, with my shoes off and my second pitcher of spiced rosewater, and I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me! Or why I’m crying! I don’t know why I’m crying!”
It hit me then what had really happened. Whatever potion the Druid had made her, it had clearly interacted poorly with the spiced rosewater, turning Hansa, the great warrior succubus, into a weeping, emotional mess. On one hand, this was awkward as hell, but, at the same time, priceless to behold. I mentally chastised myself for enjoying the sight of her so vulnerable, and proceeded to gently pry the pitcher from her hands.
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