“Holy shit.”
A crooked grin tipped one side of his mouth up, revealing the tips of fangs. She’d forgotten this was a costume ball.
Ohmygawd, I think I just came a little. Eep! That little flicker and whomp-whomp in her pussy told her she was right.
“My love, these leather pants are confining, and you’re getting me hard thinking those thoughts. Are you ready?”
“Can I have tiny fangs? We can be a pair.”
“You can have whatever you want,” he murmured, his voice a soft growl. “Even tiny fangs.”
“Rowr,” she said, making her hands into claws and giggling when she realized the flame silk motif extended to a rather flippin’ awesome manicure.
Leandre extended his elbow to her. “Ready to go kick some ass?”
“Yes, both literally and figuratively.”
“Instead of flashing us there, we’re going to take the stairs and make a grand entrance.” They entered a wide hall and proceeded to a broad flight of stairs. Wide, ornately adorned windows lined one side of the corridor, and tall paintings graced the opposite walls. The subjects ranged from fully fae with their beautiful angular features to fully human, shorter in stature and slightly rounder of face. Many showed a combination of features. Among them was a teenaged version of Sebastien, sitting proudly astride a black stallion.
I’m downstairs outside the ballroom, Sebastien said within the mental connection. I can’t wait to see you.
All is in readiness, princess, Selena murmured through the link. Tonight, you embrace your full power.
Leandre and Sebastien call me that as an endearment—
Or at least that’s what they let you think.
Nerves suddenly filled her middle, and the fluidity in her steps faltered a little. What do you mean?
You’re about to find out, Selena said in a soothing tone, which surprisingly helped a little.
I’m not hypnotizing you, princess. You’re sensing my own self-assurance. All will be well. Just get down those stairs so I can see your outfit. Leandre’s excitement over it is filling my head with static.
I trust the three of you.
We won’t let you down, princess, Selena murmured with a tone of confidence.
All this “princess” business is making me wobbly.
“Only because you aren’t accustomed to it yet,” Leandre murmured aloud to her as they arrived at the last, longest, and widest flight of stairs outside the ballroom. It was obviously built that way intentionally, to allow the royal family a grand entrance to functions.
She was focused on not falling down the steps and didn’t immediately look up until Leandre brought her to a gentle halt.
Look, he murmured silently.
An enormous mirror hung opposite the stairs. Next to it, a throng of guests milled around the huge double doors that opened into the magnificent ballroom. They all looked up at the stairs, some gaping slack-jawed, others were wide-eyed, and all of them were looking at her and Leandre. A split second later Sebastien and Selena shimmered into material form on the landing, and the crowd bowed and curtsied with such a rush the flutter of fabric made a rustling sound on the marble floor.
I can’t move.
Yeah, you can, Selena said as she preceded them down the staircase, stood to the side, and then beckoned them to follow as she acknowledged the crowd and indicated they could rise. She looked as though she was getting a tremendous kick out of the proceedings.
What is the big deal?
Did you not see yourself in the mirror?
Caresse blinked, hiding her bewilderment as she stared at the mirror. I must still be a little fuzzy around the edges. Where am I? Oh my…
A magical badass fae in boots and fiery-painted silk gazed back at her with wide-eyed wonder. Her long, usually wavy and uncooperative, hair hung in board-straight, golden waterfall-like waves over her shoulders. The mask she wore to hide her identity shimmered with the same colors as the dress.
That’s—
You.
Yeah, you’re a badass, Selena agreed.
Leandre squeezed her hand, and she availed herself of the princely elbow Sebastien offered her.
He winked at her and tilted his head, indicating they’d help her on the stairs when she was ready.
The first step was a little shaky, and she took a deep breath, glancing again at the woman in the reflection. She could do this. She obviously was the woman in the reflection.
The fiery-painted silk undulated around her as if it were alive, caressing her skin and encasing her in a warm cocoon of strength and sensuality.
What? she asked of herself, and of them in the mental chat room.
Go with it, sweetie, Selena said, a hint of amusement in her voice. I’m here to guide you. Enjoy the moment. I love your hair like that.
Caresse looked back at the reflection as she descended the final few stairs. The floor-length slippery silk skirt swirled and parted down the center-front with each step, revealing that she was wearing curve-hugging, sexy breeches that were of the same fiery-painted silk, and surprisingly comfy. Black boots extended to slightly above her knees in a similar version of the thick lug-soled boots Leandre wore, only with more feminine lines and higher heels.
The dress neckline was crowned with a lapel of silk orange blossoms, the only overtly feminine touch to the gown, except that they were painted in fiery shades to match the sexy colors in the dress.
A tiny smile showed her a hint of her costume fangs, and the bold, self-confident woman she saw in the mirror gave her courage.
Beside her on the stairs, not to be overlooked, Sebastien was clad in a dark red ensemble that reminded her of the leathers the elves wore in the Lord of the Rings movies.
His long coat was split into panels from the waist down, revealing the red leather garment beneath. It was adorned with an intricately woven neckline, belted at the waist in the same red leather, and fitted with three huge daggers in ornately painted scabbards.
A gold coronet, embellished with dark red stones that flickered gold in their depths like the deepest fire opal, rested on his brow. His boots, wickedly pointed at the toe, reached his knees in sleek lines. Everywhere, his muscles bulged against all the red leather. Her mouth watered, and she gulped to avoid drooling on him in public.
Now there’s an ego boost, he murmured. You’re pretty drool-worthy yourself.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and the crowd came to life, surging forward, greeting her and talking all at once.
See? Selena said. They obviously adore you, as well.
Selena gestured to her brow, where a crown of ethereal diamonds hovered in thin air. Silently, she murmured to Leandre. Your diadem? Why aren’t you…
He shushed his sister with a smile. I’m waiting.
Oh! For the right moment, you mean?
Hmm? Caresse murmured, curious about the conversation but unable to hear over the others.
Selena nodded at the brave courtier who offered his elbow to her at the ballroom entry, where she paused while she was announced to those in attendance.
I’ll be waiting for you at the dais with cousin Regine and Reginald, keeping an eye on that heinous wretch. Knock ’em dead, sweetie, she whispered into the connection without looking back.
And then it was their turn.
“His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince of Plaisir D’Or, Sebastien Beaumanoir. His Most Ethereal and Revered Highness, Crown Prince of the Fae in Etherea, Leandre Eryaras.”
She looked up at Leandre and arched a brow, which he seemed to find particularly amusing. Nothing special? One prince out of many? You’re the frigging crown prince!
Merely a symbolic title. My mother and father will rule for many decades more.
You live that long?
He chuckled. We all will, including you. It’s your fae blood. Head in the game, you’re up.
My—
“Her most esteemed graciousness and their honored guest, Nicola de Rainier of Washing
ton.”
The herald drew out the syllables of her state of origin in a big bass voice, and she had a hysterical urge to yell, Let’s get ready to rumbbble!
Leandre guffawed so hard he choked on his own spit, and she giggled while she patted his back. Serves you right for dropping bombshells and then making me wait for answers.
She gave the liveried servant making the announcements a smile that seemed to momentarily dazzle him before stepping into the room on Leandre’s and Sebastien’s arms.
There was a sudden, shocked “oh!” from one of the guests, but instead of turning to flee, she put on her game face.
You can do this, she said to herself and stepped toward the crowd, hoping, praying, and expecting them to not make this more awkward with more bowing and curtsying.
She’s a natural, Leandre said to Sebastien.
Small wonder, Sebastien replied.
Evidently intending to partake of their connection all evening, Selena suddenly burst into laughter only they could hear.
Desdemona just got her first good look at you and choked on a cocktail weenie. Reginald is halfheartedly patting her back as if he hopes she might actually choke to death on it.
I think I’m going to like your father, Sebastien.
Not half as much as he’ll adore you. Let’s mingle while they dislodge her cocktail weenie.
Guests exclaimed in wonder over her costume, and she returned the favor, complimenting the varied themes and asking who had made their masks and gowns.
Because it was protocol, they eventually joined the line of guests making introductions to the king and queen. Desdemona sat on her seat next to the queen, speaking from behind her fan while eyeing this guest or that one with coolness or vitriol.
What a miserable way to live, Caresse thought as she watched Desdemona. Always seeing the worst in people and succeeding only in showing the worst of herself.
“Nicola!” Niebleht cried out, rushing forward with Poutina in tow. “We’re so happy you came! We’ve been dying to see your gown, and—and—you stun. Simply stun!”
Poutina nodded, making the magenta-colored ostrich feather tucked in her hair bob rapidly. “You stun! Yes!”
“Your dresses are lovely, ladies. You are stunning, as well. So sexy…” she added quietly, gesturing at her own cleavage. “While not putting everything…”
“Out there?” Niebleht replied, obviously bolstered by the approval. “I know! Our expert dressmaker, Caresse, said the same thing tonight. We wanted to be sexy but not put every single little thing on display.” She giggled and whispered, “Mama was furious. She demanded that we go all out, and I do mean all out.”
Poutina nodded furiously, and Sebastien had to dodge the flapping ostrich feather or risk eye injury. “She threw a fit when we removed our cloaks after arriving. Why, I thought she’d rip the lining right from my dress, but Nibby stopped her.” She lifted her fan from her décolletage to reveal a tiny rip in a seam.
“And got slapped for it, too,” Niebleht blurted out as she lowered her fan to show the hand mark on her cheek. “I pointed out to her that simply because she’s blind as a bat doesn’t mean we need to make a display so she can see we’re…trying.” Niebleht glanced at Leandre and Sebastien and curtsied. “I apologize for my boldness, Highnesses.”
“It’s quite all right, Niebleht,” Sebastien said as he bowed over her hand. “Nicola has a gift for inspiring boldness and bringing the best out in people.”
Caresse said, “It was brave of you to stand up to your mother, Niebleht. I’m proud of you both.”
Caresse suddenly had a thought and looked down at her lapel. Choosing from the orange blossoms clustered there, she shifted the petals on one, released the pin that held it in place, and detached it. She glanced at Poutina, to find her staring wide-eyed, and used the pin to close the tear in Poutina’s bodice. “There. Now no one will notice the damage, and the vivid colors go nicely with your magenta dress.”
Seeming stunned, Poutina gently patted the blossom with a fingertip. “Oh,” Poutina squeaked. Both young women blushed and fanned themselves rapidly, lips trembling.
Poutina sniffled and said, “Thank you so much. Will you excuse me? I seem to have something in my eye. Nibby?”
“I’ll help you, Pooty. Will you be teaching a new dance tonight, Nicola?” she asked as she ushered Poutina off to the side.
“Of course. Go see to Poutina’s eye, and when you get back, we’ll think of something.”
Chapter Thirteen
Pride in the glorious woman standing at his side burgeoned in Sebastien’s chest as they reached the dais. Her elation at his thought trickled back to him through their connection as she executed a deep curtsy for the king and queen, seated side by side on their matching thrones.
Regine beckoned them with delight shining in her eyes, and Caresse took the steps with boldness, unaware of just how stunning she was. The front of her skirt parted with each step, revealing the audacious choice of footwear and the sinfully daring pants that matched the skirt.
You are so turning me on, she whispered in the mental chat room. Stop it or I’m going to flub bigtime.
I’d say I’m sorry…
But he’s not, Selena murmured silently while giving him a cheeky wink. You’ll get used to the byplay, princess, and I won’t always be in your head. It’s just a tad convenient right now.
Desdemona was seated beside and slightly behind Regine, which put her out of the king’s line of sight, with good reason.
“Father, may I introduce Nicola de Rainier.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nicola. I’ve been informed that you’ve livened up the palace with your presence at the balls.”
Desdemona shifted on her seat in obvious agitation. “Thrown everything into disarray is more like it. Coming in as a complete outsider—”
“—says the woman who was once herself an outsider and yet was accepted at court,” Reginald interjected as if he hadn’t been so rudely interrupted. His bloodshot eyes were an indicator of how tired he was, having only just returned from his trip abroad. “My eyes can see for themselves that you’ve added a lot of excitement to our corner of Tangere, my dear. Something that’s been sorely needed.”
Regine nodded, clasping her hands together in delight. “That outfit is exquisite! So exciting and different. In it, you remind me—”
“Well, it looks nothing like a debutante ball gown!” Desdemona said, the sharpness in her tone escalating as she batted at the servant who had been patting her back and fanning her face after her weenie debacle.
Regine quietly waved the servant off, and when Desdemona would’ve interrupted again, Regine smacked the arm of her throne closest to Desdemona, silencing her. “It’s a costume ball, as well. Leandre, you and Sebastien make perfect foils for Nicola in your costumes. The fangs are a nice touch,” she whispered with a girlish giggle.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Leandre intoned as he bowed over her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Speaking of perfection, you’re ravishing in your red dress.”
“Sweet talker.”
Selena chuckled from the seat she occupied on the other side of Reginald’s throne and leaned forward, reaching out to Regine. “You do look lovely, Regine. You haven’t worn such vivid colors since…”
Regine sighed and nodded, her eyes taking on a faraway shine as she clasped Selena’s offered hand. “Yes, it was Nicola’s arrival last night that inspired me to dress with a bit of flair tonight,” she said, indicating the feather trim at the bodice and shoulders of her red gown. “She reminds me of days long past. Nicola, I hope you’ll demonstrate another dance from your native land tonight.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. I hope you—and the king if he’s not too tired—will honor us by joining for one…or two.”
Selena giggled and said, “Remember how we used to kick up our heels, Regine?”
An appreciative chuckle emanated from his father, and he eased back into his throne. “I remembe
r. What foxy little vixens you two were, dancing the Vine of Desire with Ella, ensnaring the hearts of every young man in the kingdom—my love? What did I say?”
Regine hid her sniffles and flushed face behind her fan, and Sebastien’s heart was stricken for her.
Caresse’s heart showed in her eyes, and in their connection, she murmured, The memory must be a vivid one.
When she’d composed herself, Regine said, “I was thinking last night, and just now, how much Nicola reminds me of Ella. You mentioned her, and it occurred to me that Ninette might be close to Nicola’s age.”
Oh heck, what do I do? she murmured, gathering the skirts so she could retreat.
His mother stopped Caresse when she would’ve backed away to allow the queen privacy. “No, my dear, stay. There’s just so much about you that reminds me of a long-gone friend, someone very dear to me. Your hair color is different…”
As if her figurative feathers weren’t already ruffled, Desdemona shifted in her seat, the purple taffeta of her dress rubbing together with a sound that made Sebastien think of reptilian scales, as she said, “Majesty, did you notice the lovely cut and color of Niebleht’s and Poutina’s gowns—”
One of the ministers came forward, Jeremiah Fustbottom, who’d joined them for the Cupid Shuffle the night before despite the fact the man walked with a cane. He lifted his monocle and squinted at Nicola. “Why, Your Majesty, I see what you mean. It’s uncanny!”
Regine leaned forward and squinted slightly, and Sebastien detected the shiver that ran down Caresse’s spine through their connection. The queen beckoned to the minister. “Jeremiah, may I?”
“Of course, my queen. Hours spent poring over documents for the kingdom has weakened my distance vision and made this tool a necessity.” He unclipped the monocle from his embroidered vest and offered the lens for her use.
She took it in hand and gazed at it. “I have spectacles in my private chambers but resist bringing them downstairs. Pride, I suppose.” She lifted it to her right eye and focused on Caresse. She leaned forward a few inches, and then her brows quivered. She blinked and held a hand out to Caresse, drawing her closer.
Midnight of the Fae Page 17