Page 5 of A Dance Macabre

Entering the main room, I let the drum of bass travel through me, the music some kind of ethereal electronica, enveloping the space within a dreamy, gothic atmosphere.

Manor doesn’t irritate me like most places. If forced to leave the Grounds, it might as well be to come here. With the club’s high capacity, the crowd is always a considerable one. And with the high arched ceilings and massive dance floor, it’s easy to blend into anonymity.

Even as Mercy Crèvecoeur.

Sweeping my gaze across the dark-lit space, I ignore the naked masked dancers on the stages flanking the dance floor, the patrons drunk on booze and lust, and the noticeable buzz of energy that always seems to hang in the air here.

My attention snags on a man sitting on one of the sunken black velvet couches near the main bar to my left. I study him as he naively enjoys his night, eyes closed, head thrown back in ecstasy while he gets his dick sucked by a muscular blond wearing a tight patent leather outfit.

I know something he doesn’t.

It’s the same timeless awareness as usual, tickling at the back of my neck.

He won’t last the night.

But he’s a mere nick in the stream of my thoughts and I don’t bother lingering on his existence.

My patience begins to wane, my jaw clenching, as I look for the one person who I specifically came here for. She’s a goddess amongst mortals, it shouldn’t be this hard to locate her. My eyes finally land on the redhead sitting at the bar, her white bell-sleeve dress practically glowing against the dark decor, her pale breasts nearly spilling out from the corset pushing them up.

To my dismay, I watch her grab a random clubgoer by the arm, pulling them into a kiss. They seem frozen, arms to their sides but don’t appear to resist, lured into an impassioned embrace by lust herself. I audibly groan at the revolting public display but still make my way to her, irritation drumming louder than the bass under my skin. Snatching the useless rube she’s kissing by the collar, I rip them off her and shove them into the crowd.

“Belladonna,” I declare peevishly, trying to snap her out of her lascivious daze as I perch myself onto the stool next to her, crossing my arms.

After a few seconds, her green eyes finally snap to mine, pupils blown, cheeks pink as if she’s just taken a hit of a stimulant. She lets out a smallwhoop, moaning in delight as her hand lands on my shoulder. “I needed that,” she says with a sated sigh.

I brush her hand off me and snap at the bartender. He jumps when he realizes my attention is on him and hurriedly gets to work on my dirty vodka martini.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Belladonna says over the music, taking a slow sip from her pink Cosmopolitan, red lipstick staining the rim.

I shoot her a glare, eyebrows pinched. “It’s your birthday.”

“I knowthat,” she says with a chuckle, shaking her head slightly from side to side, making her copper hair shimmer in waves down her back. Her scintillating eyes land back on me. “When did that ever matter to you?”

I pinch my lips and look away, tapping my nails on the bar. The bartender has time to hand me my drink before I speak again.

When my gaze slides back to Belladonna, she’s busy flirtatiously waving at someone she knows across the bar, andfor a moment I catch a glimpse of why every last peasant here is enraptured with her.

“I was feeling … restless,” I say with slight disdain.

“Oh? Did you want to book a private room?” she asks with a slight raise of her brows, then her face turns mischievous. “It’s been a while.”

I shake my head and take a sip of my martini. “I’m just—” I can’t control the scowl appearing on my face, reluctant to tell her about what happened. “One of Vainglory’s idiots broke into my house last week.”

Just the taste of his name on my tongue makes me want to spit in someone’s face, or kill an unsuspecting fool—whichever one will assuage this lingering feeling of vulnerability smarting in my chest.

Belladonna's interest is piqued. She cocks her head. “Why?”

“I’m not sure.” I let out an annoyed sigh. “I didn’t realize he was part of Vainglory’s inner circle before?—”

She interrupts me. “You killed him,” she says with a soft laugh, not missing a beat and needing no confirmation. She takes another small sip of her drink. “Are you going to try to get some answers?”

“Already tried.” My lips twitch into something resembling a smile. “He claims to know nothing about it.”

She studies me for half a second, then laughs. “I bet you took that well.”

Shrugging, I glance around the room before answering. “Strangled him with the belt of his robe.”

Belladonna snickers, her gaze filled with mischief.

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