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Anyone not up and mingling is seated at the various round tables situated throughout the ballroom. My attention snags on a table in the corner for a beat longer than necessary. A woman I don’t know in powder pink is in the seat directly next to Nathan Van Doren, and judging by the way he’s blatantly ogling her chest in that lowcut gown, I’d say her flirting is going well. She throws her head back in a laugh at whatever he says, and he beams and puffs out his chest.
I can’t believe I’d let him fool me into thinking he’snot that bad, even if only for a second. But he’d fooled all of us, hadn’t he? Avery, Monroe, hell, even Reid had seemed to come around to him in the bunker.
Isn’t that a telltale sign of a sociopath? Someone who can charm anyone?
I force myself to unclench my jaw for the millionth time tonight.
I blink back to the room, the Marionettes lingering in the shadows coming into focus, their expressions grim because we’re all probably thinking the same thing. Auclair wanted to make a big show of tonight, to show we’re not scared, we’re still in charge. But if I were Westcott, having a gathering of this magnitude would be an awfully opportune time to strike.
Reid’s passed around the room like a shiny new toy, shaking hands, mingling, and looking perfectly at ease navigating it all. Like he was born for this.
Because he was.
Anya hangs on his side with her arms wrapped around one of his, laughing along in conversations and leaning her head against his shoulder.
She’s glowing tonight. She’s in a gold gown that flows like water, the back dipping all the way to her hips. Matching gold makeup shimmers on her cheeks, and her hair is twisted into an elaborate updo, a dainty golden tiara balanced on her brow.
The way she floats through the room, posture perfect, charming anyone who gets near her—she and Reid make a perfect match.
Reid’s entire demeanor shifts as he reaches a group of vampires near the door. A man with the same dark hair and crinkles by his eyes grins and throws his arms around Reid’s shoulders, roughly tugging him into a hug—one of Reid’s brothers. Jared, I think his name is. A small Chinese woman stands behind him, her nostrils flared and eyes bright and alert as she takes in her surroundings, like she’s prepared for an attack. But as Reid pulls away from Jared, she offers him a smile and hugs him next.
When she steps aside, I realize a second woman was lingering behind her.
I don’t blink. I don’tbreathe.
Reid releases the first woman, and everything about the way he goes in to hug Quinn is different. He pulls her in gently, one hand holding the back of her head like it’s a delicate, breakable thing.
He’d told me she was alive, that he’d run into her while he was looking for me. But he’d also said she was…differentnow. Being human, the psychosis had affected her in a way we’d never seen before.
But now as she holds on to his arms, steps back, and cranes her neck to get a good look at him, that proud, motherly glint in her eye, she looks exactly how I remembered her. At least, before we’d spread what we believed to be her ashes.
Reid looks years younger as he smiles and says something in her ear, the weight of the day momentarily lifting from his shoulders.
“You haven’t blinked in several minutes,” V says out of the corner of her mouth beside me. “And you’re so tense my shoulders hurt just looking at you. Maybe you should have a drink.”
I turn away from her, saying nothing, and catch the eye of Feddei beside me. He looks a lot like Anya, like they’re siblings. Same tall, slender frame, golden hair. He offers a polite smile before returning to his surveying of the room.
I never reached out to him after Anya gave me his number, even though he did go out of his way to find the name of that memoir for me. Not because I’m not interested in what else he might know, but I don’t know how close the two of them are. I have to assume anything I speak with him about could get back to Anya. Though I might be less mistrustful of her now, that only goes so far.
Servants slide through the room in white uniforms offering blood-laced champagne on their trays, and the music shifts to something more upbeat as pairs head for the dance floor. Reid’s made it to the far end of the room now, head ducked to hear whatever King Vasiliev is saying as Anya shifts at his side. Her demeanor is noticeably different around her father. She’s no longer hanging off Reid’s arm. Instead, she’s standing silently behind him, her hands tucked together behind her back.
Admittedly, I don’t know much about the Vasiliev family or their monarch, what he’s like as a ruler, as a father. Only that Anya and her older brother, Alexei, are his only remaining heirs despite at one point having three other siblings.
“Care to dance?”
I spare Cam a sideways glance as he appears on my left, then do a double take when I notice he’s in a black tuxedo, his hair carefully styled away from his face instead of its usual wild mess, and his face is freshly shaved.
He gives me a lopsided smirk. “I think the words you’re looking for areYou clean up nice, Cam.”
I snap my jaw shut and face forward again. “I’m not dancing. I’m working.” Not that I couldn’t dance if I wanted to, but I’m not going to tell him that.
“Actually, right now you’re gazing longingly at his royal highness across the room,” quips V. “Anyone can see it.”
As she says it, Anya departs from their group and heads toward us. I stiffen, but then remember I’m standing next to her partner. She’s probably coming over to him.
“Valerie!” She beams as she approaches like we’re old friends. “Wow, black is definitely your color.”
I blink stupidly at her.
