And in that moment, the expression on Claude’s face made me think he forgot, too.
His gaze slid slowly down my body, as if he had all night to take me in. Then his eyes met mine, and I could see so many things reflected in those light blue depths. Desire that made my stomach tighten. But something else, too. He looked almost hopeful.
“You’re beautiful, mon chou,” he murmured when I got close.
He didn’t look so shabby himself. Hair styled back from his face revealed his strong jaw and bright eyes in a way that he normally hid. The suit tailored to his long, lean body revealed the breadth of his shoulders, and hinted at the strong muscles of his chest and legs. He was a panty-dropping hunk of vampire. He told me that I looked beautiful but he looked like he’d come from another world.
“Let’s go,” I said, then swallowed to clear the lump from my throat. I had to stymie this line of thought. Sure, the man was pretty. But I’d be damned if I had to dwell on it.
I reached for the clutch I’d bought with the dress and shoes, and paused when I saw my hand visibly shake. I shouldn’t have.
Claude intercepted my hand, taking it with his own. His cool thumb slid across my skin.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“Does this happen often with visions?”
Too often. “I’m just rundown. Can we go, please?” There was a desperate note in my voice that I didn’t like one bit. If I caved with Claude, I’d have to admit how I felt about him. And I wasn’t entirely sure that I trusted him any longer. He was a good man—he was. Even if he had been a misguided jerk to me once. But he’d also proven that he trusted the wrong people. And that misplaced trust could screw us both.
That dangerous hand gripped mine for a moment longer, then he pulled it to his lips and brushed them against my skin. My breath caught, and a shiver ran through my body that had nothing to do with the vision.
“We could be fashionably late,” he said, voice low and smooth.
The idea sounded good—too good. Being with Claude would bring me back from the vision, give me something to concentrate on that was very real, and very overwhelming. I wanted to stay and make love to him so badly that it twisted my gut and made my fingertips tingle.
And that’s exactly why I couldn’t.
“No,” I finally managed. “We have work to do.”
Despite Claude’s offhand assertion that we weren’t already fashionably late, the party was in full swing when we arrived. A harried valet took Claude’s keys, and classical music flowed from the large manor the Magister called home.
“Seems like an odd time of year for a big party like this.”
“He has several throughout the year. A good opportunity to politic, and to remind people who is in charge.”
“Not sure I’d invite people I planned on threatening into my home.”
Claude grinned. “The main house is actually on the other side of the property. This is sort of a ballroom area with guest suites. It’s used a lot for official visitors—other Magisters, their people. Visiting dignitaries and such.”
Of course the Magister had more than one house on the same property. Who didn’t?
A blast of cold air hit me. Why hadn’t I thought to buy a wrap? My jacket had been too casual to wear with the dress, and I’d shrugged off Claude’s offer to stop somewhere on the way. But thankfully the distance from the valet station to the front door was short, and I’d worn my coat from Claude’s condo until his car had warmed up.
Luck proved to be on my side though, because warmth flooded me as soon as I cleared the door into the manor. Whether due to the vampires’ rather useful tolerance for temperature variations that exceeded that of us normals, or because they were trying just a little too hard to combat the frigid Chicago cold, they had the thermostat set just perfect for a human in a cocktail dress sans wrap. Convenient, and probably meant that this party catered to a mixed otherworlder crowd, like the giant said.
“You ready?” Claude asked, offering me his arm.
I took it and a tingle ran through me at the touch. Just the cold bothering me. It wasn’t anticipation; it was the beginning of frostbite.
“Wow,” I muttered when we hit the main ballroom after traveling down a short hallway and passing a coat check along the way.
The vampires and their guests were impressive. Dresses of every shape and current fashion graced the hall. Nothing vintage, like I’d thought we might see. Vampires, it seemed, did not dwell on the past.
At least not in a public forum.
Music flowed, not from a jukebox or DJ, but from a small group of men in tuxedos with string instruments held close to their bodies and sweat touching their shining foreheads. And waiters, also in tuxes, distributed drinks in crystal glasses, and several types of appetizers. I was happy to see that while some women wore evening gowns that sparkled against the low lighting, others wore cocktail dresses not too dissimilar from my own.
“It’s like something from a movie.” I kept my voice low, but vampires had excellent hearing.
“Thank you, my dear. I’m glad that someone appreciates all of the trouble my kind assistant has gone to.” The voice was unfamiliar, confident, and deep. “Please, Claude, introduce us.”
Claude shifted a step back, so I could see the man who approached from his left.
The air left my lungs, and my stomach dropped.
I knew every tiny line around those eyes. The way the light glinted off his thick hair. I had seen that falsely young, handsome face in my nightmares since I was ten years old. Nightmares that had returned with renewed force since I’d touched that brand.
“Of course. Maître, this is my date and friend, Beatrice Davis. Beatrice, this is Luc Chevalier, our host for the evening and the area Magister.”
I managed to mutter something appropriate, and I hoped that the Magister considered my tongue-tied nature a compliment. That his station and power had overwhelmed me. After all, the Magister didn’t know me to be anything other than Claude’s date. For all he knew, I was easily impressed by vampires—especially Magisters.
“I need to speak with you alone for a moment, Claude. If you don’t mind, my dear.”
The Magister wasn’t really seeking my permission, but he was polite, I’d give him that. I nodded, trying to keep a smile on my face, since I couldn’t bring myself to speak.
“Would you like me to bring you back a drink?” Claude asked.
“Sure,” I managed.
“Wonderful. I’ll show you around afterward.” Claude gave me a tight smile.
Just seeing the Magister’s face, so familiar and yet brand-new, sent emotions rushing through me. Anger and rage carried by a flurry of questions I wanted—needed—answered. Questions about the selkie and the brand and what the hell he’d been doing in the room when the brand was imprinted with that vision.
Questions about my brother.
But I couldn’t ask any of them. So I pushed down the anger and swallowed the lump in my throat.
“No rush, I can mingle just fine.” I gave him a broad smile that I hoped looked bright, and not full of barely concealed rage.
Claude and the Magister disappeared into the crowd, and I grabbed a glass of champagne from the waiter. I swallowed a bit, just to fit in with the other guests, and barely withheld a grimace. There was no doubt the champagne was good, definitely expensive. But I hated the taste. Just not my drink.
The crowd was full of interesting-looking people, vampire women with their perfect skin and rich furs, and the occasional vampire man, skin just slightly too pale. Although there were surprisingly few actual vampires. What were the others? Humans? Witches? Perhaps a mix of just about every type of otherworlder.
I almost wished for the powers of a sensitive so I could tell for sure. There were hints. A twitchy woman in the corner who moved like an imp. Two women—sisters by the look of them—that radiated so much sex appeal I was tempted to ask them to dance. Succubi, then.
/> Did the Magister keep the vampire numbers down purposefully in these mixed-group balls in order to keep the auras of fear manageable? I guessed it wasn’t good manners to force your guests to concentrate on not running from the room the whole night.
They all looked rich, happy, and delighted to have been invited. But how many attended just to socialize, and how many for other purposes? Backstabbing and deal-making were doubtlessly the main reason most were here, I’d bet my badge on it.
I sidestepped a portly man wearing so much cologne that I almost gagged, and then stopped in my tracks. A handsome man stood about twenty feet from me, a break in the crowd allowing me to see him clearly. Like most of the men, he wore a tuxedo and was undoubtedly good-looking. But it was his resemblance to Luc Chevalier that caught my eye.
A younger version of the Magister—although in appearance he only looked ten years shy of Luc—the man had probably been changed in his early twenties. The same nose and hair, the same jawline and general height. But unlike the Magister, this man had a cruel turn to his lips, as if he could either laugh or order a murder with his next breath.
There was no doubt in my mind that I was looking at the Magister’s son—at Nicolas Chevalier. I could see why Claude suspected him of murder, and who knew what else. He might look human, but he wore cruelty like a cloak.
Or maybe I was only seeing what I expected to see?
I scanned the room for Claude, but the vampire had effectively disappeared. Nicolas turned and started for the far end of the ballroom, away from the entrance. Giving the ballroom one last glance for Claude, I followed.
A subtle pursuit, it was not. I did my best to move through the crowd as if at random, but the vampire was moving quickly toward a hallway and I had to struggle to keep up. I slipped inside after him. A woman in a red dress with a slit up to her waist strutted past me, headed back for the ballroom. The way my eyes wanted to follow her made her succubus nature obvious. A man passed me as well, not even sparing me a glance. Definitely a vampire—my heart rate kicked up a notch at the intimidation flowing from his aura.
Nicolas moved even faster, and I trotted after him, passing a powder room and a small balcony where smokers gathered. The noise from the ballroom faded behind me, and when I took a turn I’d sworn the vampire had taken, the noise completely disappeared. Had to be a noise-dampening spell.
The thought slowed my pace. Those spells worked both ways. Were they trying to keep the noise out, or in? Since I hadn’t seen another partygoer for a couple of turns, I was hoping for out. But its presence made me nervous.
Sure, they weren’t uncommon in a nice household like this. They could be used to keep the noise from the party away from the guest quarters. But what if this spell’s purpose was darker?
I moved as silently as I could down the long hallway, which was lit by low-watt bulbs set in small sconces along the wall. For a second, I thought I’d gone the wrong way. But another step and I could feel sweat break out on my forehead, and I had the sudden urge to run.
The intimidating aura of a vampire.
Was it Nicolas? If so, the man really had a nasty aura.
Not a peep sounded until I hit another corner. The voices coming out of the room at the end of the short hall were low and hurried, and I couldn’t make out the words. A small bit of light shone through the corner of the slightly open doorway where the muffled voices came from.
I crept forward, thankful for the rug that lined the floor. How close could I get without the vampire inside noticing I was here? The smart thing to do would be to leave. Because if they caught me, I would be worse than dead.
That thought sank in. What the hell was I doing? Sure, I was an investigator, but I was more the “touch things and research online” type—less the “chase bad guys without even a sidearm to my name” type. I turned to go, but a single word, ringing clearly from behind the door, stopped me.
Claude.
I couldn’t convince my body to leave after that. What if the people behind that door were plotting to off Claude, and I missed the details because I was too afraid to listen in? Even if they caught me, surely they wouldn’t kill me with a houseful of guests only a few turns down the hall?
The sound-dampening spell was something I decided to ignore, however. Wouldn’t do to dwell on the fact that no one outside of this area could hear me scream.
Creeping forward slowly, I kept my breathing as quiet as possible. Tempting as it was to hold my breath, that wouldn’t do. I’d end up gasping for air and giving myself away as surely as if I walked in that door and demanded to know what was going on.
The voices grew clearer as I approached.
“…doesn’t have anything.”
“He has the brand, made by my own hand. That ain’t enough for ya? The timetable ain’t bendable now, fanger. We don’t have time for bullshit.”
My hands clenched into fists automatically, and I had to force myself to stay put. I recognized that voice. The urge to fling open the door and ask them what the hell they were up to threatened to overrun my good sense, but I couldn’t let it. I had no gun. No useful otherworlder powers. And no one would hear my screams.
“That isn’t proof, and my father will not act without direct and incontrovertible proof.” The smooth drawl that could only be the Magister’s son’s was so full of confidence I wanted to slap it right out of him.
“I’m not worried about yer father! It’s that fuckin’ vampire cop. He’s got a hankerin’ for ya, and a psychometrist followin’ him around like a lapdog.”
A surge of anger hit, but I kept my mouth shut. The voices lowered, indecipherable. My welcome was more than worn out. I needed to get away and tell Claude what I’d heard before they noticed me. I stepped back, but my heel caught on the carpet. My hand slammed against the wall as my body did its best not to fall.
Hell.
I turned and rushed down the hall as quietly as I could. It was possible they’d inspect the hall if they’d heard me, then look no further.
Not likely.
But it was the only hope I had, so I clung to it as I ran down the winding halls.
Chapter Eleven
Two turns later, I was still running down the hall. Panic overrode my desire to play it cool. When I took what had to be my fourth wrong turn, I ran headlong into a hard chest. I would have flopped ungracefully to the ground, but the man grabbed my arms and held me to him. I struggled against the impossible strength. How had they gotten ahead of me? With all the wrong turns I’d no doubt made, it was no wonder they’d headed me off.
“Let. Me. Go!” I yanked with all my strength and the man did just that, sending me flying, only to bend down just in time to catch me in his arms. Striking green eyes, laced in amusement, met mine.
“Are you all right?” the Magister asked.
I couldn’t seem to find any words.
He pulled me to my feet, and I fought against the urge to push him away. Was he here to help me? Hurt me? Was it possible that of all the people present at this big party, I’d only accidentally run into Luc Chevalier?
Unlikely.
“My apologies,” I managed. “Got lost on the way to the ladies’ room. I’ll just be getting back to the party.”
“I’ll guide you. I’d hate for you to get lost again.”
“Oh, gosh, no thank you.” What to say? My mind raced and I struggled not to yell at him, ask him what had happened to my brother. A lot of good that would do me, in an empty hallway of a house I’d gotten lost in, with his likely murderous son and evil witch at my heels. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”
“It’s no inconvenience.” His mouth tightened. “I insist.”
I took a step back—or tried to. The Magister grabbed my elbow, his hand tight on my skin. I opened my mouth to yell when someone touched my back, making me jump.
“Everything all right here, Luc?” Claude’s smooth voice had never sounded so damn good.
Luc’s smile returned, but tension remain
ed around his eyes. “Of course. I was just about to help your friend find her way back to the party.”
“I’ll assist her.”
Luc hesitated, then nodded. “Of course.” Then to me he added, “Enjoy your evening, my dear. Please do take care not to get lost again.”
His words still hanging in the air, Luc gave us a short bow and then turned and left. But he didn’t head back the way he’d come—instead he went in the direction I’d come from.
I waited until Luc was out of sight, then whispered, “We have to go.”
“What were you doing back here?” he asked, his voice low, too. “Skulking and plotting, no doubt.”
“Claude,” I said, barely able to stop myself from stomping at him. I could hardly voice my worries aloud, when Nicolas could be lurking around the next corner, so I glared at him with my heart still racing and fear making me ready to jump out of my skin.
My look seemed to do the trick. The amusement faded from his expression and a very un-Claude-like seriousness took its place. Without another word, he took my elbow with his right hand and led me down the hallway; his eyes darted quickly across the space as we walked, alert for danger.
Obviously familiar with the layout of the house, Claude led me through the maze of hallways until we hit a door. Freezing wind hit me and I blinked against it. A near full moon lit a courtyard area around us, revealing trees, benches, and plants, all washed of color by the snow and moonlight. Claude’s coat came around my shoulders. Before I could thank him, we were moving again.
Relief had hit me when I saw Claude, but that relief faded as we walked. I knew he could protect me better than just about anyone else, but he was cautious and silent.
We weren’t home free yet.
The stone path was well kept and had only a brush of snow on it. Claude held my elbow again, and I had no doubt that if I slipped he’d catch me before I could touch the ground. So I moved with confidence, keeping up with the vampire’s quick pace.
Vampire Games (Entangled Ever After) Page 9
