Page 58 of The Guardian's Curse

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Around three o’clock, some of the crowd had already trickled out, headed for wherever vampires went for after-parties. Half of the raised booths were occupied by pairs and trios of vampires feeding on veravin.

She had long given up on dancing in favor of sitting at a corner table where she could see the entire club. Paris and Dominic had taken turns keeping her company throughout the night. Safira had dropped by to chat for a few minutes, revealing that the Shroud was building a file on Elliott McAvoy. Then she demanded a dance with Dominic, and Paris took over babysitting duty. One by one, he pointed out different vampires and told her interesting tidbits.

One of the men across the club, with his teeth buried in a middle-aged man’s throat, had been turned into a vampire by his mother in an attempt to keep him from being drafted in World War II. “He’s been a mama’s boy for eighty years,” Paris griped.

There were dozens of interesting stories in the court, though she sensed Paris was being very careful about what he told her. Eventually, the driver who’d brought them to Infinity approached the table and bowed his head to Paris. “Sir, Mr. Thorne has informed me that he’s ready to leave.”

Paris glanced at Shoshanna. “I’ll walk you out.”

Her feet throbbed when she rose and put weight on them again. No more high heels for her. “Thanks for keeping me company,” she said.

He nodded, resting his hand at the small of her back as he guided her to the lobby and out the glass doors. “Dominic and I are the envy of quite a few guests,” he said. He gently kissed her cheeks. “Good night, Miss York.”

“Good night, Paris,” she replied. With his help, she climbed into the SUV, where Alistair already waited.

As soon as her door was closed, Jason pulled away and turned up quiet music. If working for Eduardo meant that someone would drive her everywhere, she was going to have a hard time saying no.

Alistair was quiet for a long while, staring out the window. The red of his eyes reflected from the dark glass. They were nearing the interstate when he finally spoke. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“It was interesting,” she said. “But I’d rather be at home with you, Magneto, and the piano.”

His shoulders lifted, as if he’d let out the tiniest laugh. “As would I. How did your meeting with Eduardo go?”

“Thought-provoking,” she said. “Yours?”

“Humbling.”

He was quiet for the rest of the drive home. She kicked off her shoes and let out a soft sigh of relief. Next time, she’d wear more reasonable shoes that weren’t picked out by someone who barely felt pain. She was ready to scrub her makeup off, eat a midnight snack that qualified as a Thanksgiving meal, and fall into bed.

Ahead of them, the dim lights on Alistair’s house were a beacon in the night. Jason entered the security code at the gate, then drove around the curved driveway to drop them right at the front door. When she went to open her door, Alistair covered her hand and said, “Wait.”

He got out, opened her door, then said, “May I?”

When she tilted her head in confusion, he leaned in and scooped her into his arms. “Oh!” she exclaimed with a peal of laughter. “What are you doing?”

His feet crunched in the layer of dried leaves on the steps. Shifting her carefully, he entered the code on the door and carried her inside. “Your feet were bothering you.”

“I didn’t say that,” she said.

“I watched you at Infinity,” he replied. “And you made a face of sheer relief when you took off your shoes. I know that face.” He paused at the threshold. “Shall I take you to your room?”

“Kitchen first,” she said. “I’m starving.” In weeks of living under his roof, Alistair had barely touched her. It thrilled her to have him close, carrying her across the treacherous expanse of cold tile floor.

He set her on the counter and turned away to open the refrigerator. “What would you like to eat?”

“Alistair, I can take care of myself,” she said.

“I know you are capable, but you don’t always have to,” he replied. He pulled out the bowl of fruit salad she’d made yesterday. “How’s this? Or something more substantial?”

“This time of night, that’s the safest bet. Hand it over,” she said. He handed her the big bowl, and she waited patiently. “A fork, please?” He retrieved a fork and offered it. She let her fingers brush over his gloved hand as she took it. “Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “Good—”

“Don’t leave,” she interrupted. She speared a piece of pineapple from the rainbow medley. “I didn’t see you all night.”

“Well, you seemed to have a fine time with Paris and Dominic,” he said, his voice low and rough.

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