Chosen well before she'd ever met Sebastian, she wondered what he would think. Several times she'd caught men staring at the gown, their eyes riveted to her chest. Lifting the glass in her hand, she took a sip of the wine, studying the masks of the male revelers. Searching. None of them came close to Sebastian's stature.
Her gaze landed on a man entering in a turn of the century tuxedo and top hat. The lines of the costume were crisp and clean, the gentleman's hands tucked into white gloves, his face covered by a black mask rimmed in gold. The expression on the features was foreboding. Like hers, only his mouth and chin could be seen.
Laurel knew right away it was Sebastian. There was just something about the set of his shoulders, the way he parted the crowd.
Setting her glass down on a table, she circled the room. Closing in from behind, she stopped when she reached his side and said, "Dance?"
He glanced down through the slits of the mask, meeting her eyes. Facing her, he performed an elegant bow and stretched out a white-gloved hand.
Laurel accepted it, holding his gaze, and let him sweep her into the dance. She didn't miss the possessive way his gaze raked over the dress and what it almost hid. They whirled through the music, gliding between other couples, making a full circuit of the floor. She never once worried that they would collide with anyone else. Sebastian's control was effortless. This time, thanks to a little practice on her part, she glided through the steps without bumbling.
"You are a long way from the Nile, my lady," he said.
"Yes, searching for suitable houseboys is a trying and tedious task. I need one who can satisfy my every need and whim and trust, good sir, I have many," she said with a coy smile. His hold felt possessive, secure. Behind the mask, she saw his eyes flicker at her saucy reply.
"Perhaps, my lady, you will allow me to try. I assure you I have been exquisitely trained. I will give your every need my thorough attention."
"Exquisitely trained? Tell me, potential houseboy, what your specialties are. I think I should like a demonstration of how thorough you can be." Laurel enjoyed this game they played, amused at the very thought of Sebastian as a houseboy. He could not be further from subservient if he tried.
His arm tightened around her through a turn, bringing them closer. He bent his head to murmur near her ear. "If I may, my lady, I am very deft with my hands. And my mouth, I am told, is particularly pleasing. My stamina can easily last an entire night." He straightened with a parting, "I would be honored to demonstrate whenever my lady desires."
Caught off guard at the sensuality of his words, Laurel darted a look at his eyes. She might have taken a misstep in the next turn if he hadn't guided her with such skill. "It sounds like you have all the qualifications I require. At my earliest convenience, then, we will put you to the test."
"As you wish," he said, leading her through another circuit of the dance floor. The black wig brushed her shoulders when he dipped her without warning. Secure in his arms, she shuddered when he moved his mouth an inch from the skin of her throat, never making contact. Laurel cupped the side of his neck, brushing the line of his jaw with her thumb. He straightened her with as much ease as he'd directed her in the waltz and led her to the edge of the floor.
"Meet me downstairs," he said, squeezing her hip before turning away.
Laurel watched until he disappeared, trying to get her equilibrium back. Knocked off balance by his charm and the wolfishness he'd displayed at their banter, she sought to quiet her pounding heart. A few minutes into the next song, Laurel departed the masquerade, taking the steps down to the main room.
All of the employees had been required to attend in costume, so no one manned the bar and no guests loitered at the tables or booths. The action was in the ballroom. She didn't see Sebastian right away, either.
A steely arm snaked out to snatch her around the middle when she started to pass the library, thinking to search for him on the porch. She gasped in surprise even though she knew who it was. No other man she knew had arms that strong.
Sebastian reeled her into the library, gentle but firm, and pressed her spine against his chest. Firelight made shadows lap against the wall like demon tongues.
"Did my lady enjoy the ball?" he asked. His mouth was right against her ear.
"Very much. Is my houseboy ready to test his mettle?" Laurel tilted her head back, resting it against his shoulder. She arched and felt him tighten behind her.
"Lean against me, and let this humble boy show you what he can do with his hands," he said. Sebastian flattened his palms over the gold ribbon winding around her ribs and smoothed his hands upward.
She thought he was going to cover her breasts but he stopped just short, thumbs rubbing slow circles over the thin material. The anticipation, the sheer sensation of his broad hands on her body made her shiver.
Sebastian stroked downwards, caressing, cutting a dangerous swath low across her stomach with his fingers. These were no juvenile gropes but the knowing, seductive caresses of a man skilled in the art of passion. He left no doubt that there were other tasks he could perform with just as much expertise.
Laurel reached a hand up and back, encountering his hair instead of a top hat. Sometime between the ball and the library, she realized he'd shed that and his tuxedo coat. Sinking her fingers in, scraping her nails against his scalp, she was rewarded with a growl against her neck.
That was the only way she could describe the sound that came out of his throat. Surprised when he scooped her up in his arms, she hooked a hand around his nape.
Sebastian carried her to the sofa nearest the fire, draping her across his lap when he sat. "I'm glad no other man touched you tonight," he said. "I would have broken their fingers."
Laurel, held in the curl of his arm, stared up at his eyes. "I like it that you don't want another man's hands anywhere on me," she admitted.
"Does it excite you, cara mia, to know I would kill the man who thought to take what is mine?" Possessive and firm, he stroked his hand over her hip, her thigh.
Laurel skimmed her fingers over the smooth contour of his black mask-- a contrast to her white one--until they met the edge and slipped off onto his skin. Her thumb followed the line of his bottom lip. A pleasurable jolt rippled through her to think Sebastian would do battle in her name.
"Yes," she said. The truth tasted like sin on her tongue.
He bent his head and kissed her, taking slow possession of her mouth.
Laurel reveled in the taste of him, cupping his jaw with her hand. She parted her lips, inviting him in, and groaned when he plundered her with expert strokes. The angle and depth of their kiss changed but never the urgency. Sweet and thorough, she explored him like he explored her, swallowing his growls, his groans.
He left a last nip on her lips and raised his head.
For a long moment, they stared at each other, a new kind of awareness between them.
"Beautiful," he said.
"You didn't lie about your talent. Consider yourself my new houseboy," she teased. Beautiful wasn't ever a term Laurel attached to herself, but he made her feel all that and more.
Sebastian rumbled a laugh, holding her snug against his body. When his humor faded, he said, "I have to leave for Madrid this evening, Laurel. I expect to be gone two or three days."
Disappointed to hear it, she nevertheless accepted the news with a smile. She knew he had business and that his duties sometimes required him to travel. Madrid sounded exotic and alluring and she tried to picture him there. "You'll call me?"
"Yes. And I'll bring you something fabulously expensive to make up for lost time."
"Make sure it's something sexy I can wear for you," she said, shaking with a silent laugh at her own audacity. "You'll be careful?"
Sebastian chuckled, kissed her brow, and eased her to her feet before standing himself. "Count on it," he said. "If you need anything and cannot get in touch with me, call Bernard.”
Laurel smoothed out the dress along her hips, watching as h
e strode over to his jacket and put it on, followed by the top hat. "Thank you, Sebastian. I'll miss you. Be safe."
“I also brought this, thinking you might like to read it,” he said, drawing an old looking, leather bound book from the pocket of his coat. He extended it to her.
“Oh, it almost looks like a journal,” she said, easing it from his fingers.
“It is. I hope you enjoy it.” With an intent expression, he struck a gallant bow. Masked, imposing in the gloom, he gave her a predatory smile and departed the room.
Laurel felt the loss of his presence the instant he was gone. She touched her lips and shuddered, clutching the journal to her chest, and finally made her way out of the library for the stairs. The masquerade held no appeal any longer. Taking the hallway to her room, she entered and closed the door behind her. The taste of him lingered on her tongue, his scent clinging to her clothes.
“You're getting in deep, Laurel,” she said to the empty room.
9:25 p.m.
Laurel eyed the digital numbers on her alarm clock. Two days had passed. It felt like two years. She worked, went through all the motions in her day, and still time drug by at a snail's pace. Sebastian was never far from her mind. He haunted her in the daytime and lurked in her dreams at night. She hadn't lied when she said she'd miss him.
Snatching her cell phone off her comforter, she pressed 1 on speed dial. She knew he had a penchant for staying up late and refused to calculate the time difference between here and Madrid to see just how late it was there.
"Sebastian Thorn." He answered with a brisk, business-like voice.
"Hi," she said. "I hope you don't mind that I'm calling. -- or that I'm calling so late." She started pacing, heels clicking over the hard wood flooring.
"I assure you. You can never call too often or too late. How are you, Laurel?" he asked. He sounded pleased that she called. Intimate warmth curled down the line and into her ear.
"That's an open invitation, you know. I might call again tomorrow night, and the night after that." She smiled and stopped for a moment to stare out her window. "I'm doing fine, Sebastian. Thinking a lot about my visit to your house and the ball. I had such a great time. How are you?"
"It is an open invitation, and I assure you, I do not make them lightly. I have been well enough. Thinking about you." He paused. "Do something for me. Lay on your bed and close your eyes. Be with me."
Intrigued at the request, she crossed the room, toed off her stilettos, and reclined on the bed. She was still in her work clothes. "Okay, I'm lying down with my eyes closed."
"Thank you. Tell me your thoughts on your stay at my home."
"Mm. I'm not sure where to start. I loved all of it though, especially touring the rooms and your piano playing. What did you think of me staying over?"
"My home was all the more beautiful for your presence. I rather liked having you beneath my roof, Laurel," he said.
"Probably not as much as I like being there. I enjoy--"
"I enjoy you," he said, interrupting.
She laughed, a quiet breath of sound. "I enjoy you, too." It hadn't been what she meant to say, but it also wasn't a lie. "Maybe next time you can show me the maze."
"I'll show you a great many things," he said, and it sounded like a promise.
"I hope so," she replied. He made it too easy to want to be with him. She felt her world spin on its axis every time they talked. "Will you be going away for Christmas, Sebastian?" The question popped out before she could stop it.
"Christmas? Perhaps. And what of you? Will you have time off during the holiday?"
"I have Christmas eve off and Christmas day. I don't have any plans." Laurel didn't have the money to travel back to Kansas and her co-workers had places to be. She didn't dwell on spending the holiday alone.
"If you could have anything you wanted for Christmas, what would it be?" he asked, a curious note in his voice.
She frowned in thought. "Anything?"
"Anything."
With quiet honesty, she said, "To spend it with you."
Sebastian had long since lost his romantic notions about the night. Once, when his becoming was still new, he had loved the darkness. Learning to survive, discovering rare beauty and unimagined horrors beneath the watchful moon.
Now, the night was simply where and when he lived. In latter days he saw far less of anything beautiful, and horror ceased to be the exception to any rule he lived by.
Ah, but Laurel. She alone moved him when so few things did. The way she looked at him quickened that which had remained static for so long. There was magic in the frailty of her humanity, newness to the feelings she provoked in him.
Sebastian watched her as they entered the park, her hand tucked under the bend of his elbow. Full night had fallen, and Sebastian moved as comfortably in it as most people did in the broad light of day.
Returned from Madrid earlier in the evening, Sebastian had sought Laurel at the end of her shift. With little coaxing, he bundled her against the chill in a wool coat of black, gloves that fit snug over her hands, and hustled her outside for a private stroll through a nearby park.
To appear normal, Sebastian had shrugged a wool coat over a thin dress shirt. An affect, because the cold no longer troubled him. He had to keep reminding himself to breathe so that his breath would create a white plume like hers did.
The streets were quiet, but Sebastian remained watchful. Better than most, he knew there were things to fear in the dark. In recent days he could not escape the prickling sensation of being watched.
Entering the park through the front gate, Sebastian encouraged her to tell him about herself. The places she wanted to go, the things she wanted to do, listening attentively as she talked. It was an extension of their conversation from the night she stayed at his home and he filed away each new detail as it came. She was open and expressive, holding nothing back.
“I always wanted to pursue photography on more than a hobby level, but I haven't ever done anything about it. Maybe when we get to New York, I can find a photographer to study under.”
Drawn from his brief distraction, he glanced aside. There was reluctance in the way she spoke about leaving for New York that he hadn't heard before. “Perhaps you could take classes if the other option doesn't pan out. It sounds like it would be a fulfilling career move.”
He left it unsaid that he would help finance whatever classes she cared to take.
“I never thought I could make a career out of photography,” she admitted with a thoughtful expression. “It would be great to try though. College classes sound like fun. Now, if I could travel and take photos, that would be awesome.”
Pleased by the relaxed way she confided in him and amused at the lilting emphasis she applied to the words, he laughed. “What places would you choose to see first?”
Laurel's eyes went round with the choices. “Probably Holland, Ireland, Germany. Well... pretty much all of Europe.”
Sebastian had the urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her. He settled for a grin. “What about here? What states haven't you seen that you'd like to visit?”
“All of them?” said replied with an embarrassed laugh. “This is my first trip out of Kansas.”
Sebastian, surprised to hear it, arched his brows. Of all places for her to land first. She had asked him once about the weird vibe she intuited in the people here, and oh, the things he could have told her about Sperling. About how it was a supernatural conduit of sorts, and tended to draw those elements in droves. A paranormal no-man's land. Laurel was too new here to understand. She still had the shroud of naivety over her eyes, which both charmed and concerned him.
Around them, the park was idyllic and serene. An old playground and several enormous oak trees dotted the rolling landscape. Much more impressive in the spring, nothing was in bloom now in the heart of winter. Frost glittered on the ground as they strolled the lighted paths.
“You have a lot to see, then,” he said, and discovered that he wan
ted to be the one to show her the world. Her reactions to his home had fascinated and enchanted him. He could only imagine her delight in new, foreign lands.
“Sperling has been a great place to start,” she said, giving him a specific glance.
He squeezed her closer to his side at the unvoiced compliment she paid him. Reminiscent of their first meeting, he brushed a touch under her chin, enamored with the way she tilted her face up to his. He smiled and glanced up before he could give in to the temptation of her mouth. Spying a vendor selling hot chocolate, he slithered his arm from around her shoulders. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, and stepped away to purchase one heaped with whipped cream.
Sebastian remained aware of their surroundings, though it would have been hard to tell his attention was not focused on her. He used all his senses that he had spent years honing and sharpening. Such caution was second nature to him now, like breathing to mortals. Another vampire was close, that much he knew. He was edgy, but not alarmed, and continued to be watchful as he returned to hand her the sweet drink.
“Thank you --” she said, wrapping her gloved hands around the cocoa. “You don't care for hot chocolate?”
Sebastian sometimes forgot that it might seem odd when he neglected to purchase them both food or drinks. “Not at the moment,” he said, smoothing past the questioning look she gave him.
“Maybe just a little taste?”
He watched as she caught the tip of her glove between her teeth and tugged her hand free. After she stuffed the glove down into her pocket, she scooped a dollop of whipped cream on the end of her index finger and offered it toward his mouth.
She grinned at him like a playful nymph, and tension shot across his shoulders, rife with pent-up passion. His eyes glittered, and a slow-burning smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
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