Page 48 of Blood & Bedlam

Eternals are stationed every few feet along the walk up, on high alert for any potential trouble. The potent mix of alcohol, blood, and magic churning through the city is a heady blend. Every Eternal and Ranger in New Orleans is on guard, especially considering what happened just a few weeks ago at a gathering this large. Around us, mere blocks away, the city is alive. There’s music and art and community and, right now, Reine is at my side. After centuries of watching happiness from the outside, I finally feel settled.

“Holy fuck!” Reine gasps when we walk through the ornate golden doors. Inside, the ceilings stretch to the stars, the string orchestra sits strategically on risers around the room, the great pillars of power that hold the house together laced with crawling golden ivy. It’s decadent and outrageous, the culmination of indulgence and sin for the Otherworlders of the Crescent City.

And for our family, it’s a homecoming. A solidification of our power. The room falls silent as we reach the top landing of a marble staircase, set wide enough to drive a truck through. The black and scarlet carpet trails down into a runner, one that leads to the crest of House of Clan Dracul enshrined in the flagstones. Next to us, the marquee clears his throat and slams his large staff into the ground twice. The music dulls, as does the noise of the gathering. All eyes turn to the landing.

“The Royal Family of New Orleans, House of Clan Dracul.” His voice booms around us, magically amplified.

“Lady Fleur and Lady Kendra.” Loud applause rakes over us, as one by one my girls and their mates are announced before stepping into the grand ballroom. Reine’s nerves radiate from her as we step forward, her grip on my arm so tight the fabric of my suit threatens to tear.

Look at me, I command through our bloodlink, and when she turns her face up to mine, the world around us falls away. I get lost in her. The call to take her lips is tempting, but I know once I kiss her, I won’t be able to stop. Instead, I hold her gaze.

“Lord and Lady Dracul.” The proclamation rockets through the crowd. Stunned gasps and whispers break out, because that was as good as confirmation to the Otherworlders. Reine keeps her head high even as she turns back to the gathered and leads me down the steps with confidence and grace no other human could possess. In it, I catch a bit of Mina, of the way she moved so effortlessly through a crowd, commanded attention with her poise. The smattering of freckles beneath the jeweled mask are darkened with her flush, but she’s otherwise composed.

Regal.

I’m hard as a fucking rock.

Applause, led by our family I’m sure, rings out in thundering waves as we reach the middle of the floor. A server appears with a tray of champagne, and we each take a flute. Quiet settles once more, all eyes on us. I need to open the festivities with a speech, and it occurs to me I’ve been too distracted to craft one. I suppose we’re winging it, then. I clear my throat.

“Tonight, we celebrate the magic of our city. We honor the freedom and peace that has been so hard-won, and the battles and challenges yet to come. I honor my daughter Camille for her strength, prowess, and bravery.” I turn to her, lifting my glass in salute. “Yes, tonight we dance and dine and release our inhibitions. Kendra has created an incredible program for each one of us to enjoy. Just as the Domain of New Orleans is grateful to know her, House of Clan Dracul is honored to have her joy and light.” My eyes touch on each of my Blood, then down to Reine at my side, and I’m filled with such … gratitude. I swallow and lift my glass higher. “I am truly humbled by this domain we’ve built on the shores of the Pontchartrain—together. Revelry!”

Raucous cheers ring out, the music swallowing the sounds of clinking glasses and applause. Around us, drinks are drained, empty glasses are discarded, and the masquerade begins. I pull Reine closer, the ballroom floor filling up around us.

“Dance with me,” I whisper against the shell of her ear, relishing in the goose bumps that follow the trail of my breath on her skin. Wordlessly, her hand finds mine as my other rests on her hip.

“I don’t know how to dance like this,” she warns.

“Let me in. I’ll help,” Fleur offers. Reine sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, then gives her a nod. Instantly, her feet move, tracing a beautiful waltz, her hands and the lines of her body flowing in effortless arcs across the floor. As we move, I see her laugh as her body twirls, feel her rush of breath across my neck as her body comes home to mine.

We never got this. Our marriage was marked by war and uncertainty, by a world of deadly cold. There were no opulent balls, no revels or dancing, and while she may never recover all her memories of us, this is something we can experience together. The night goes on, and we dance, lost to each other, in the magic. We ignore the dark cloud and whispered sneers of the Italians, soured by their loss, left to nurse their wounded pride. On and on, we laugh, we dance, every step a promise, a tangible moment between us. There is wine, there is laughter, but above all there is love and an insatiable hunger burning inside of me.

I take her hand and she allows me to lead her away, breathless and rosy cheeked, intent on finishing what we started. The moon will fall in just a few hours’ time, and I have no plans to see another sunset without making Reine irrevocably mine.

Reine

CHAPTER 25

I’m nearly breathless, the corset around me strangling my lungs, but I’m all smiles as Vlad drags me through another dimly lit hallway. I’m a little tipsy, but the view from behind him is hot as hell, the wide expanse of his broad shoulders, the strong hand pulling me after him. He stops and ducks his head through a few doors before pulling me back along, searching.

“Where are we going?” I giggle, clearly a little more gone off the bubbly than I originally thought, but it’s taken my anxiety with it, so I’m not mad.

“You’ll see,” he calls, and the devilish grin he shoots over his shoulder nearly buckles my knees. That suit, that mask … it should be fucking illegal to look that good. We bank a hard right, and he hums his approval as he drags me through an open door, then secures it back with the flick of a lock.

The entire room is filled with mirrors.

It’s like a funhouse maze, and at first, I don’t know what it is I’m seeing because, as I step closer, my reflection gets larger, but I’m alone in the frame, even though I can feel Vlad’s body pressed against my back, his hands wrapped around my waist.

He has no reflection.

“Wait, what?” I ask, confused even as he trails soft kisses up the column of my throat, nips at my ear. I know he has a reflection. I eye fucked it for twenty minutes just hours ago, and yet …

“These mirrors are very, very old, made with real silver. It doesn’t hurt me, but it doesn’t reflect me either.”

“But earlier—” I begin. He cuts me off with the flick of his thumb over my nipple, his hands roaming all over me, and suddenly I don’t give a damn about mirrors. Who needs a reflection anyway?

“New mirrors are backed with aluminum. Different substances, my star.” I can smell him, feel him, hear him, but with my eyes locked in the mirror, I can’t see him and that turns me on. Watching the fabric of my dress lift of its own accord, the tendrils of my hair catch and release in his fingers as he pulls out the pins Kendra so carefully arranged, one by one. I suck in lungfuls of air, my breasts straining against the rigidity of the corset, my core flooding at the first drag of Vladimir’s tongue over the skin of my throat. His lips suck over my pulse point and he groans when I start grinding my hips against him. I expect him to drink, to consecrate the Bond between us, but he’s careful not to break the skin.

“You taste so fucking sweet, mele stea.” His fingers slip up to wrap around my throat and fuck, I love this possessive collaring. It’s heady. I arch against him, shoulders bent to his chest, the hemline of my dress dangerously close to a nip slip in the reflection of these fancy-ass mirrors. “Run, for me,” he commands, then pushes me off him gently, breaking his hold. I nearly collapse on shaking legs, but as I turn, I see his beast has come forward, the pale silver of his eyes darkened to steel. A thrill rushes through me, but it isn’t fear—it’s anticipation. His head tilts, assessing me, tongue darting out to taste me on the air. There’s a primal instinct in my mind screaming at me to flee, to put distance between the monster and me.