Page 81 of Bleed

She laughs softly, despite the statement being intended as fact rather than humor.

I guide us toward the far side of the ballroom, where the crowd is marginally slimmer. Observation is easier from the perimeter. Unfortunately, going unnoticed becomes considerably more difficult when one is the guest of honor– and impossible with Beatrix at my side.

The first couple approaches before we’ve even settled beside a cocktail table. Ordinarily, my expression is enough to discourage unnecessary conversation, but tonight, they’re drawn in by hers.

“Dr. Faulkner,” Simon Marx greets, dipping his chin. “Honored to have you join us.”

“Dr. Marx.” I give him a curt nod, hoping the brevity of my response will signal the end of the exchange.

It doesn’t.

A beat of awkward silence follows before Beatrix interjects, batting her lashes up at Simon. “It would’ve been pretty rude for him to skip his own award dinner.”

He lets out a polite laugh, immediately turning his attention to her. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Bex,” she chirps, extending her hand.

My jaw tightens as he takes it.

“Dr. Simon Marx, board member for the National Science Foundation.” He gestures toward the woman beside him. “And this is my wife, Tiana.”

The women greet one another as though they’ve been acquainted for years instead of seconds, immediately falling into a lively discussion about the floral arrangements near the podium, then debating whether the champagne has been watered down.

I simply watch, fascinated by Beatrix’s uncanny ability to make strangers feel like old friends.

I have precisely the opposite effect on people.

By the time Simon and Tiana excuse themselves, another pair has already begun making their way toward us.

Then another.

Before long, a pattern emerges. Every conversation begins the same way– they approach me, and they leave remembering her.

She memorizes names after hearing them only once, laughs easily, and answers questions instead of waiting to be asked them. Somehow, she manages to make each person feel as though they have her complete attention, even if only for a minute.

I’ve spent over a century learning how to command a room.

Beatrix accomplishes it in seconds without even appearing to try.

Men flirt with her. Women flirt with her. To my growing irritation, she seems to regard it all as harmless fun, charming each person she meets with the same coy smile.

Then another vampire approaches, instantly putting me on edge.

Santiago Aspen and I know each other well enough by reputation, if not personally. He’s young by vampire standards, wealthy, and charismatic. The sort who mistakes confidence for invincibility.

“Dr. Faulkner,” he greets smoothly, extending his hand.

I shake it once.

“Santiago.”

His attention shifts almost immediately to Beatrix, lips curving in a smirk. “And you must be the famous source I’ve been hearing so much about.”

“Bex,” she replies, smiling as she offers her hand.

He takes it, holding on longer than necessary.

“A pleasure,” he drawls, his gaze lingering. “Elliott’s done an admirable job of keeping you hidden.”