Page 51 of The Guardian's Curse

Drink your fill, Mister Thorne.

That had to be coincidence. With that echoing pause, the faint gleam in her eye that was somewhere between mischief and desire. Surely it was just his imagination, desperate as it was.

Trying to push the enticing image of the witch out of his mind, he dressed in a black suit that Paris had sent for him. The coat was well-tailored, though a little small in the shoulders. The heavy black cloak and hood that he wore over his face did not suit the refined ensemble, but he preferred stares at his odd fashion choices over stares at his monstrous face.

He headed upstairs and paced in the open living room. The court would send a car for them at ten. He was early, so he spent the time playing an improvisation in E-flat minor. Long ago, he’d dreamed of becoming a household name like Schubert, but he’d never done anything with the hundreds of sketches in his library.

The doorbell rang, startling him from his playing. Jason, one of the Court’s regular drivers, waited at the door. “Sir,” he greeted. “Are you ready?”

Alistair turned to call for Shoshanna, but she was already there, emerging from the dark hallway. Her silhouette was lit by the hazy glow of the lamp by his piano.

If he still breathed, he would have forgotten how. An elegant black gown hugged her body, accentuating her slender waist and curvy hips before erupting in a cascade of silky ruffles. Crimson jewels sparkled across her chest, with a matching antique comb holding her dark curls. Her simple beauty had been transformed into something transcendent.

Heat pooled in his groin, and he was suddenly even more glad for the fabric covering his face. “You look lovely,” he said, as neutrally as he could. Lovely was an understatement that bordered on offensive.

She forced a smile. “Thank you. So do you.” When she raised her hand to fiddle with one heavy earring, he noticed the twisted silver band around her wrist. The symbol of the Court’s protection would keep curious vampires at bay during the party. He wished he had been the one to clasp it on her.

He wanted to speak to her. But he knew he had botched things so thoroughly that she would surely reject him. Instead, he offered his arm. “May I escort you?”

Her crimson-painted lips curved in a shy smile. “You may.”

* * *

Half an hour later, Jason dropped them off at the nondescript building in Midtown. Other than the black-clad bouncers outside, the edifice of steel and tinted glass could have passed for any office building. One of the men nodded to them and gestured in welcome as the dark glass doors slid open.

Beyond the dark glass, a small lobby dripped with expensive marble and gilded décor. Passing over the threshold, Alistair saw the briefest flash of glowing shapes swirling around each other. His spine tingled, and then his vision returned to normal.

He stiffened. “Your work?” he asked quietly.

Shoshanna squeezed his arm, sending a shiver down his spine. “Did it tingle?”

“Indeed,” he said, shaking off the strange sensation.

Several narrow hallways branched off of the ornately furnished lobby. Ahead of them, a pair of dark wood doors that led to the club proper were closed. Safira was there, along with a red-haired vampire he didn’t know. The other woman held a tablet at the ready.

Safira smiled at them. “Alistair Thorne and Shoshanna York,” she said to her companion. Her eyes slid over Shoshanna, her full brows lifting in a question. “I thought you might like the red.”

Shoshanna smoothed the front of her dress. “I did, but I felt like this one really screamed ‘bad witch in charge.’ Thank you for sending them.”

Safira laughed. “Then perhaps you’ll have to wear the red for another party.” She leaned over and kissed Shoshanna’s cheeks, then gestured for her to enter. Her blue eyes swept over Alistair. “Allie.”

“Safira,” he said calmly. He wished he could make eye contact with her, to send a silent message. Instead, he lowered his voice and spoke in German. “What did you tell Eduardo?”

“The truth,” she replied. “We dealt with hunters in the MARTA tunnels.” Then she turned to a new arrival, her expression brightening. “Carmen! Don’t you look stunning!”

With that, they were in. Beyond the big double doors was the main attraction of Infinity. Tonight, the intimate atmosphere was illuminated by twinkling golden lights that glowed like stars in the rafters. The club was filled with the smell of blood and lust. A string quartet played on the stage, accompanied by an electronic synthesizer with an eerie resonance.

His whole body was wound tight as they descended into the crowded club. There were at least a hundred vampires of the Blade of Auberon within the Atlanta area, and several hundred more in the surrounding states. These sorts of lavish parties had once been nightly occurrences, back when things were simpler in the old world.

Interspersed throughout the vampire guests were dozens of veravin, each wearing their flashes of blue. For certain Court events, no other humans would be permitted. Shoshanna clutched his forearm tightly, sending a warm thrill through him. He gently patted her hand. Even with the strangeness between them, he was pleased that he could make her feel safe.

As if he had been watching for their arrival, Paris emerged from the crowd and intercepted them. He greeted Shoshanna with a kiss on each cheek, then a clap on the back for Alistair. “Shoshanna, you look radiant. Like the sexy witch of the South. Don’t worry. I’ll ensure that no twit in tacky shoes comes along to drop a house on you.”

Her dark-lined eyes gleamed bright as she laughed. He envied that sound, and the fact that it was Paris who could ignite that little spark of joy. “Thank you,” she said.

Paris offered his hand to Shoshanna. “I’ll take her off your hands now. I’m going to introduce her to Julian and see if she agrees with my ranking of which of you is the biggest, brooding cliche.” His eyes flicked upward. “Eduardo is waiting for you upstairs.”

“You’re not coming?”

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