“Wow,” Lu says. “I am sure I do not need to point out, pretty little Charlotte wears nothing under that dress.”
Oh, yes. I have noticed. Along with every other greedy eye in the Great Hall. Lu’s eyes are on me, watching. Sometimes I wish he didn’t know me so well. I keep my focus on her, trying hard not to show what I am thinking on my face. Lu see’s it, but I hope no one else does.
Charlotte’s scent is carried from across the room. She has bathed in sandalwood soap. Dark eyes follow her as she moves through the crowd. The low lights kiss over her skin. I look over to Lu, expecting to see that smile of his, but his face is different, melancholy.
“Sometimes, I think this task of being a Guardian is cruel.” Lu’s voice is low, so that no one else can hear us. “We are forced to love from a distance.”
“I am no longer a Guardian, brother.” My words surprise even me. Lu smiles, but this time it his classic smile and I respond with one of my own.
I look back to her. Her dress moves with her, and I see thin black lines over her side, twisting down to her waist.
No... Anger wells up and I look to Lu. Charlotte has permanently marked her body, covered it in deep ink, forever staining her glowing skin.
“Why did you let her get a tattoo?” I growl, not bothering to hide my rage.
Lu refuses to look at me. “It is not like I could stop her,” he says, quietly. “It is her body to with as she chooses.”
He knows this answer does nothing but infuriate me further. My breaths are deep and shallow, controlled.
“Honestly, I don’t know how you didn’t see it before,” he says. “With the way you ogle her constantly.”
“I do not ogle her.”
Lu looks to me, “Please brother, everyone notices.”
Shit.
I look back to watch Charlotte, or ogle as Lu seems to think. Her eyes float around the room like she is searching for someone. Her heart starts to pound in her chest, moving the thin skin in the hollow of her neck. She’s looking for me. Her eyes finally find mine, her smile is small, and she calms instantly. The smile I give her stems from the knowledge that I can quicken her pulse or slow it down.
Charlotte walks around the room on Henri’s arm, shaking hands, and putting up with the men that brush their lips over her small fingers. She moves with such grace, but I know she is doing it for appearance sake. Abigail trained her daughters to survive any social situation. Having watched Charlotte grow, I know most of the time it is a challenge for her to remain this way for long.
“Should I go save her?” Lu asks me.
“Yes.”
Lucius walks into the room and interrupts the charade. Henri looks angry but keeps his nasty little mouth shut. Charlotte’s face lights up and she almost runs with Lu from the Hall. She grips his arm laughing, the corners of her eyes creasing as they walk toward me.
“I thought that was never going to end,” she says, breathlessly. When she moves, the sides of her small breasts peak out under the blue fabric. The silky material a soft, seductive whisper as it brushes against her skin. A small blue stone, lapis lazuli is cradled in the hollow of her neck. Her pulse thumps in my ears, drowning out all other sounds. I look away.
“These gatherings are simply a way for Ashur to show off,” Lu says. He still holds her arm in his. Her fingers squeeze at his tux, feeling the muscles underneath. I debate ripping his arms off.
“Show off what?” She asks, looking at me. Her hands fall as she lets go of Lu’s arm and looks down at her feet.
“His power,” My tone is hard. Cold. I curse myself. I need to remember to stay in better control.
Charlotte turns her attention back to the crowd. Some of the guests have started dancing. The slow, formal dance of too much money and years of social formalities ingrained in them. The women smile politely, their backs rigid, men holding their bodies at a comfortable distant. Later, they will behave differently. I can’t help but wonder why they always put on such a show. Why they try to mask their greed before the real reason they are here begins, like it doesn’t exist. Yet it does, only later, and in the dark.
Charlotte grabs at Lu’s arm again, “Oh, lets dance!” She says to him, her body bouncing in place. I know Abigail has told her that I am not supposed to be near her, unless asked, yet I can’t help the sting of her words.
“What is it with women and dancing?” Lu asks.
“I bet you are an amazing dancer,” she smiles slyly at Lu.
I laugh, making them both turn to me.
“I’m not that bad, brother,” Lu says.
Charlotte reaches out and takes my arm. “I will bet, Mr. Thanos, you are better.” Her fingers grip my suit and she pulls me forward. Lu’s eyes open in alarm.
“You are very forward, Miss Charlotte,” I tell her, allowing her to drag me out to the mass. Ashur and Henri stand on the outskirts of the gathering dancers, their eyes following us. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs. This isn’t good.
Charlotte steps close and places one hand lightly on my arm, and clasps her other in mine. Her head tilts back to look at me, a devious smile on her lips. Thin pieces of her hair fall around her face. I place a hand on her waist, letting my fingers graze her back. She feels small and thin, her skin hot and soft under my fingers. Her mouth opens slightly at my touch. Her body heats and the skin flushes over her chest, giving my senses a rush. I press my fingers hard into her skin.
“This is the dress Claudette picked for you.” I know it is. Charlotte’s face is pink, warm from the attention, the scent of her making me heady.
“Yes.”
I release the air I have been holding. “A woman’s dress is a reflection of who she is.”
Her eyes drop down to her chest. I close mine briefly and breathe. She looks back up smiling, her tongue touches the corner of her mouth. “Do you disapprove, Aydin?”
“It is reckless and demands every man’s eye, all the way to down to the tattoo you have on your back.” I move my hand; a stupid, bold move, around her back, forcing her body to press into mine. Delighting in the way her cheeks turn red and her breath catches in her throat. “You stepped on my foot, Miss Charlotte.”
I pick her up lightly, catching her misstep and grin. Her throat moves as she swallows. Her body is supple under my fingers and I guide her around the dance floor. The music is an old Roman hymn, with soft flutes and beating drums. She looks around before she catches my eyes. I should stop teasing.
“You don’t talk like a vampire,” Charlotte says, suddenly. Her lips taste the last word, feeling they way it sounds over her tongue. Her mind moves from one subject to another, so rapidly, I often wonder if she does this on purpose. Deflecting attention from herself.
She keeps closing the space between us, her body brushing against mine. The flickering of the candles sparkle in her eyes. She is daring and she knows it. I can feel Henri’s eyes boring into my skull. I smile large at her, I know it will piss the little shit off more.
“Is that so?” I ask her. “How should I speak?
“More charming, maybe.”
“You wound me, Miss Charlotte,” I say. “Your words sting deep, all the way down to my tar black soul.”
She smiles and laughs. Her voice is lovely. I have always loved her laugh and find that I will do anything to bring it out.
“Was that a trace of a southern accent, Mr. Thanos?” Her teeth catch her lip again, the light glistens over the moisture of the soft flesh, like the inside of a peach.
I look around the room to the others. My kind. “We have to be adaptable. We change our language, our mannerisms, in order to survive. We hide behind stories and keep our inner violence at bay. I spent almost five hundred years in the South. I imagine I do have an accent by now.”
“Five hundred?” Her eyes widen. “I bet you did not fit in very well down there in the central part of the state.”
“No. I did not.”
“I’ll bet though, Mr. Thanos, you were very popular with a
ll those desperate southern belles, bored to tears, sipping their tea, and waiting to be rescued from the dreadful heat.” Charlotte takes a slight teasing tone, giving her voice a twangy sound. She couldn’t possibly know that I had spent most of my time with the slaves after her family left the coast.
The silky material of her dress glides under my hand, moving over her bare skin. Every step she takes, I feel the thin muscles of her back move under my fingers. My throat starts to close. I clench my jaw taking a deep, long breath. Someone needs to get her away from me. Henri even. The music needs to stop. I look to Lu for help, but he’s got that damn smile on his face. I can feel my chest tighten, like a weight being placed down hard.
“Charlotte, you are going to get me in trouble.” I glance over to Henri.
“You started it.” Her smile is mischievous. “Besides, you don’t look like someone who shy’s away from trouble.”
“Some trouble’s just not worth getting into,” I tell her, lightly nodding in Henri’s direction. The music stops. I let go and step back, quickly. I hope it is not obvious how desperate I am to put space between us. I bow to her and she takes my arm again, ignoring Henri’s obvious irritation.
“I’ll bet you have some pretty intriguing stories, Mr Thanos.”
“You have no idea, Miss Charlotte.”
CHARLOTTE
Chapter Twenty-eight
Aydin had not asked for my forgiveness. He didn’t give me an explanation. I don’t want one. I know why he had lied. They are the demons that chase him, following him around, leaving sorrow in his wake. His actions had caused him disgrace to his family. Abigail told me he was a powerful force, no vampire would ever dare challenge him. Yet, his lie, my lie, shattered that. And for what? Two selfish women he was instructed to protect. There is no anger, I can’t possibly hold resentment toward him. His gray eyes keep Emily’s ghost and our shared secret. I can only seem to feel guilt, Aydin is the one who suffers the most.
I stand between him and Lucius. On one side, I have a dark and menacing male, the other, a light and angelic looking cherub. Both beautiful in their own way. Both look mighty spiffy in their tuxes. I can’t help the smile that plays on my lips, though the glass of champagne and my already light head probably help.
Claudette had insisted on the dress I wear. She even brought the pretty blue stone necklace, saying the dark blue was a beautiful contrast to the light color of the dress. I am doubtful. Every time I move, I worry everyone can see all the way to Christmas. The material is so thin, the neckline so low, I am wearing nothing underneath. I feel overexposed and vulnerable. Except of course, when Aydin looks at me. His eyes shine when he looks my way. I can’t help that my pulse races. I can’t seem to respond normally to him anytime. Though, I’m not sure what this says about me. I know Aydin has been around my entire life, but it feels surreal. I’ve only just met him. Maybe this is what draws me to him even more than before. The tantalizing wrongness of my attraction. He is headmaster, protector, a carnal creature of death and darkness, and I fly toward him a moth to a flame.
“Can you tell the difference?”
I glance at Aydin. He nods his head to the crowd.
People move about, mingling, some are dancing. There are so many different cultures in the room, it is like nothing I have ever seen before. Women wear bright clothes, some men are in tunics and long shirts and loose pants. Some move gracefully, almost feline, through the crowd. Precise steps like Abigail’s. Predatory fluid movements like Aydin.
“I see,” I say, and smile at him
“If it weren’t for these pesky noses, some I would never guess,” Lucius says.
“You can smell each other?” I ask.
“Unfortunately, yes,” Lucius says. “We can smell everything. And everyone. Where they have been and who they have been with.”
I look down to my dress and body. I really hope I bathed well.
“Don’t worry, Charlotte, you smell divine,” Lucius says, nudging my arm. “Like fresh cut grass and a sunny day. Why you mask it with that old dusty soap, is beyond me.”
I look to Aydin, who is eyeing, Lucius. His gaze falls and catches mine. “Don’t listen to Lu. He is just angry that he smells like a wet dog.”
Claudette steps forward with Henri. She offers me another glass and winks. It’s a constant battle to stay nice to her. She apologized earlier, acting like she hadn’t realized she was causing problems. I am, of course, forced to deal with her. I don’t want anyone to know that Abigail has told me of Aydin’s part in my life.
“Charlotte, you look positively scandalous,” she says.
I grin like the Cheshire Cat. Yes, indeed I do. Basking in the masculinity that sandwiches me. I smile slyly to myself at the thought. Lucius clears his throat and I remember they can feel my emotions. This is hard to get used to.
“They will be starting the dance soon.” Henri offers his arm, I reluctantly accept and step away from my safe little cocoon. I’m still angry with him over what he said on our picnic. I glance back as he guides me away. Aydin’s face is hard, his eyes dark. He really doesn’t like Henri.
Ashur appears with my mother on his arm. She is taller than him in her heels. Her dress is long and black, seductively elegant. I still can’t believe how young she is.
“You are beautiful, my angel.” Abigail’s smile reaches her eyes, softening her entire face. She cups my cheek in her hand and places a small kiss on my forehead.
“Claudette has a good eye, you wear the dress perfectly.” Ashur kisses both of my cheeks and I resist the urge to back away. His dark eyes glint in the candle light, black pools. “Come Henri, let us make the rounds.”
Henri drags me around the room, introducing me to even more faces. I thought that I had escaped this earlier. Somehow, I find the proper training my mother had instilled in me. Now I know what she had been preparing me for. Their mouths brush the back of my hand, forming kind words and dark smiles.
A small man comes up to us, his face open and friendly. His eyes are soft, and his nose is upturned and short. He looks to be of maybe Italian decent, in his early thirties.
“Salve, Henri, I see we finally get to meet Charlotte.” His accent is smooth and rich. “I am Alfonso, the Sovereign of the neighboring Region. The French air does agree with you.”
“Wonderful to meet you, Alfonso. France is beautiful, I am very lucky to have been brought here.” I see my mother give me an approving nod.
“Ashur loves his parties,” Alfonso says and turns to Ashur. They exchange some small talk, and my mother pulls me back, out of their conversation. Alfonso turns back to me and takes my hand in his, kissing it before he speaks. “It was lovely to meet you. I will see you again.”
Abigail leads me around more, before my head starts to swim. We are in conversation with a heavy set woman who is droning on about her trip to Greece and some catastrophe on her yacht. Even vampires have mundane stories. The crowd of people is intense and overwhelming. I look around for Lucius or Aydin. Out in the gardens, I see Ashur talking to Aydin, who is shaking his head, but he seems to give in and follow Ashur into the Great Hall.
“Come, they are starting the dance.” Henri appears and pulls me into the pool of bodies. Henri drags me toward the center of the room and we move through a line of people to where a crowd has gathered. The lights are dimmed further around the room. Ornate tall floor candelabras stand, creating a small open space. A petite woman stands in the center. Candles flicker over her caramel skin, bringing out auburn highlights in her dark hair. Silky curls fall down her back, glistening with beads woven into thin braids. She is completely naked, a large lapis lazuli hangs around her neck, nestled between her breasts. Shocked, I look to Henri, who is watching the woman intently.
Off to the side, faint sounds start. Slow strums, followed by light picks. It is haunting, an old sound stuck in a hollow chamber. The woman starts to sway, slowly moving her hips, the lapis lazuli strung around her waist, glistens with each movement. Her arms sna
ke up, above her head, as her hips twist in a slow, sensual belly dance.
“She represents the Goddess Nikkal.” Claudette’s breath is at my ear, and I jump at her sudden appearance. “She is the Goddess of fruit and fertility. It is said she was so beautiful, the Moon God, Yarikh descended from the Heavens to steal her heart. He offered her father gold, silver, and lapis lazuli for her hand in marriage. Some ancient tablets say she is the mother of Inanna and Ereshkigal.”
“What is the music?”
“It is an old Hurrian hymn, written in her dedication. It is an ancient tradition, played at weddings, more than likely in hopes that Nikkal would make the wives fruitful and bear many sons.” Claudette watches the woman dance, her eyes darken. “He plays well doesn’t he?”
“Who?”
Claudette motions to the side, past Henri, who stands next to me, entranced by the woman. Aydin sits in a wooden chair, a small instrument in his hands, resting on his knee. It looks similar to a harp, but I have never seen it before. His long fingers pluck the strings, forcing delicate, melancholy sounds to ring out.
Claudette wraps her arm around my waist, bringing me close. I resist the urge to back away, reminding myself we are playing at being friends. “He hates this. Ashur always makes him play at these gatherings,” she whispers in my ear.
I watch Aydin, transfixed by his hands, lost in the echoing sounds. The crowd erupts into a loud applause, and the small woman bows. She glides to Aydin and pulls him by his hand, forcing him up. He nods his head slightly, then walks from my view.
Music springs back to life from a small band that sits in the corner. Flutes and string instruments fill the air, a faster more hurried pace. Drums beat heavily, thumping in my ears. The sound is so loud, it reverberates in my bones. The massive entry doors open and a line of people walk through. My stomach drops and my heart leaps into my mouth.
They are all naked. Men and women, their skin oiled and glowing. Large animal masks obscure each face. Long beaks of birds; feathers like cranes, falling down their backs. There are men in heavy lion masks, ornate with fur and glistening eyes. Some of deer, with tall antlers, some, the slick black of predatory cats. The men and women lineup; there must be at least thirty of them. The scene is dark and obscene. My stomach starts to twist as the music gets louder and they begin to dance. Wild, quick movements. Their bodies jerking, then moving slowly.
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