The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Heather Hildenbrand

  I shook my head even as I felt his warm palm sliding against mine, our fingers threading together naturally. “It’s just easier that way,” I explained, misinterpreting his confusion. “I’m better at it than they are anyway. I just quickly take care of myself while they go to take care of the cond—”

  “Not what I was talking about.” Torstein cut across me, his eyes lightening to an impossible colour, his head shaking slowly from side to side. The smile was creeping back onto his lips. “But thanks for the information.”

  He turned suddenly, tugging me toward the furthest corner of the room. Long, silken black drapes fell from the vaulted ceiling, pooling along the ground. The space was cloaked in shadow, perhaps aided by the magic that wrapped the castle, since I couldn’t figure out where the shadow actually came from. In no time at all, there was a hard surface behind my back, and an equally hard surface pressing into my front. Torstein’s hands clutched at my waist, lifting me up and setting me on top of something. My feet brushed against wood, and I glanced down, making out an ornately-crafted bench. We were almost on eye level now, with me only a few inches taller. His hands dropped from my waist to my hips, his fingers splaying out against my lower spine, dangerously close to my ass.

  “Tell me what you see,” he demanded, his voice soft.

  “An asshole,” I replied immediately. “A big, blond asshole. Not my type at all.”

  His mouth twitched, and he quickly swatted my ass before setting his hands to my hips again. “Be a little more specific.”

  “An abusive asshole,” I elaborated, “With a death wish.”

  “I don’t know what kind of magic creature you are, but I’ve figured out that you can only hold one power at a time,” he whispered, and his hand slipped down over my ass again. I trembled, expecting the sting of another quick slap. It didn’t come. Somehow, that was worse.

  “What’s your point?” I managed to ask the question without giving away the fact that I had been forced to suddenly clench my thighs together.

  “My point is that you copied my power. You’re not capable of killing me, unless you’re planning on fucking me to death, which is entirely possible with this power.”

  I shuddered, and it wasn’t in a good way this time. “Is that what you usually do?”

  He considered me for a moment, his focus switching between my eyes. “Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”

  “Fine.” I pulled back a little, needing the space to catch my breath.

  His hand was still on my ass for some reason. I pretended that I didn’t notice, which was a weird thing to pretend.

  “You have a long braid,” I told him, my hand lifting of its own volition, capturing the rope of hair and pulling it over his shoulder. My fingers traced the metal rings. His eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t interrupt me as I continued. “Your eyes are dark blue and you have a very wide smile. The sides of your head are shaved, and there are markings …” I released his braid, my fingers reaching up to his head.

  He caught my wrist, his other hand applying pressure where it still gripped my ass, forcing me forward. I would have toppled right off the bench, except that he stepped forward, his body preventing me from going anywhere.

  “Interesting,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing on me. “You are seeing the real me. Maybe it’s your power. What are you, exactly?”

  The moment was getting a little too intense for me. I didn’t want to bond with the sexy sadist. I just wanted to get him back to my apartment where I would spend a few days possibly exploring his body for the sole purpose of figuring out his moral character.

  Whoa, Isa. That’s a reach, even for you.

  “Are you having a conversation with yourself?” He interrupted my thoughts, and I caught the smile that was once again hovering around the edges of his mouth.

  “No,” I snapped. “Did you bring me all the way over here just to ask me what you looked like?”

  “No.” He chuckled. “I brought you all the way over here because there’s so much fog and mood lighting in this fucking place; I can’t read your face properly without putting you on my level.”

  I glanced down at the bench I was standing on. It had made me a little taller than him, but we were definitely much closer to being on eye-level. Somewhere deep inside my rational mind, I understood why he would want to be able to read my expression as he spoke to me, considering the fact that I was trying to persuade him to come home with me just so that I could question him about the disappearance of my ‘friend’. Rationally, I could see how that would be important. But irrationally, all I could think about was the fact that he had insulted my height.

  “You’re miniscule,” he added, confirming my suspicion.

  “You’re huge,” I immediately threw back, realising at some point that we were having a very childish argument in a shadowy corner of the room for absolutely no reason at all.

  “You have no idea,” he deadpanned, tilting his hips so that they pressed tightly to mine.

  I swallowed, looking up to the ceiling. “You’re disgusting,” I told him, hoping that he wouldn’t see right through my insult.

  “If you two are done insulting each other …” a voice spoke up from behind us, forcing me to quickly spin around. I almost toppled off the bench again, but Torstein’s arm wrapped around my front, steadying me.

  The curtains against the wall shifted, and a man stepped out from behind the heavy fabric, holding a woman by the hand. His shirt was hanging open, his tie askew, his jacket missing. Her makeup was smudged, her steps shaky as she pressed herself into his side. I watched as she caught sight of Torstein, her eyes widening. I wasn’t sure what kind of magical creature she was, but I could sense the faint, sugary taste of the fae. She started to worry her lower lip, her eyes trailing all over Torstein.

  I shifted, covering more of his front. I couldn’t allow him to be distracted by anyone else. I needed him to come home with me ... for the money. It was all about the money. Behind me, I felt the slight rumble of his chuckle.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, when it seemed like nobody was going to say anything else. “I ah ... I thought my Uncle Dicky was back here.”

  Torstein definitely laughed this time, his arm tightening around me and lifting me down from the bench. He drew me away from the couple as they shot me one last confused look before retreating back behind their curtain. They really needed to hang a do not disturb sign somewhere.

  “Okay, you can skip the second task,” Torstein relented, once the sounds of the band thrummed around us again. “Instead, I want you to get up on that bar and dance.”

  I followed the direction of his pointed finger, glancing over to one of the long black bars. I didn’t love the task, but it was better than having to steal someone’s finger, so I shrugged and walked over. When I reached the bar, I pushed between two guys fisting glasses and talking animatedly. They both smelled like werewolf. Harmless enough.

  “Oh ... hey there,” one of them exclaimed as I turned and set my elbows back against the bar.

  Over the other side of the room, Torstein was still watching me. I tried to ignore him, turning to the guy on my left, and then the one on my right. They weren’t dressed in expensive suits, but heavy dark jeans, boots, and bomber jackets. Both of their faces were covered in rough stubble, broken up only by the occasional scar.

  “What are you drinking?” I asked the one on the left: he had red-brown eyes.

  “Twenty-four karat gold,” he replied, offering his glass to me.

  I took it, and drank the whole thing in one go. It tasted like a tropical holiday. I turned to the other guy, slapping my empty glass down on the bar and arching a brow at him. He had been staring down the front of my dress, but when his eyes snapped back to my face, he handed his drink over wordlessly. I grinned, taking it from him and throwing it back. Damn, Torstein’s power was handy.

  “How about a dance?” I spoke to the one on my right, licking the remnants of rum-spiked pineapple juice from my lips
.

  “Yeah ...” His voice was husky. He cleared it, trying again. “Yeah, sure.”

  “Good,” I answered. “Help me up.”

  It took him a few moments to understand, but when I motioned to the bar, he got the hint, his hands finding my waist and hoisting me up. There were two bartenders—the man that I had spoken to earlier, and a woman. They both walked over when they saw me. I glanced at both of them, delivering a wink, and the woman shot a hand out, holding the man back. Her smile was a slow, flirtatious crawl, and I could feel the power emanating from her.

  Succubus.

  I grinned, giving her a mock salute, and then I turned to the people waiting at the bar.

  Chapter Six

  I had the attention of the people around this particular bar, and I used it to my advantage, feeding off the hunger that was painted over their expectant faces. I might have accidentally activated my new ability, because they seemed transfixed to each of my slow movements as I followed the heavy dips and reverberations of the current song. On the dance floor, people were slow dancing, grinding into each other, several of them sneaking away to find private nooks around the ballroom. In a circle of dark leather couches to my right, I could make out a woman giving her partner a lap dance.

  It was a heavy, sensual song, and I used that to my full advantage, running my hands along my body as I swayed, pulling the heavy weight of my hair from my shoulders, and spinning to show off my form as the chain-link covering caught on my curves. One of the werewolves before me whistled, and when I looked down, his face was actually red.

  I caught the eye of the female bartender again. She was laughing, ignoring the customer trying to get her attention as she watched me. I guess we were Succubus Sisters For Life. The male bartender was flipping a bottle of something in the air and catching it again, enjoying the show I was putting on. I entertained the thought of our host catching sight of me and putting a stop to the spectacle, and then sought out Torstein again. It took me a moment because he had moved from his previous spot. He was weaving his way through people, his eyes fixed to something with a frightening intensity. I followed the direction of his gaze, the slow rhythm of my dance unfaltering even as shock passed through me. He was heading toward the man whose finger I was supposed to have stolen. The man who was now in a trance, watching me.

  Oh. Hell. No.

  I opened my mouth to warn him, but it was already too late. Torstein was at his side. I jumped off the bar, trying to move in their direction, but the tiny crowd that had gathered around the bar suddenly pressed forward, surrounding me. Hands were on my body, trying to pull me in different directions, and I momentarily lost sight of the man and Torstein. My Chameleon suddenly reared, and a new ability flooded into me, settling beneath my skin with an itchy, burning eagerness.

  It was easier to move through the people now that they had been released from the spell of my borrowed power. I fought my way to where Torstein and the man had been, but they were gone.

  Swearing, I spotted the doors leading outside and ran toward them, finding myself suddenly surrounded by fog, the low glow of moonlight piercing through the darkness.

  “Torstein.” The name was a strained whisper from my lips. I didn’t want to cause a scene by yelling for him.

  Movement in my peripheral vision had me whipping around. I made out a figure slumped against the stone beside the door I had just run out of. I squinted, walking back to him. It was the man whose finger Torstein had needed, but he was now unconscious, slumped back against the stone, his left hand suspiciously tucked into his jacket.

  “Hey.” I nudged him with my shoe. His head lolled to the other side.

  I cautiously move closer, crouching beside him and putting my fingers to his neck. He still had a pulse. I stood back up again, searching the shadows for my devious Motherlode. There was some movement in the fog, the mutterings of sound that hinted at people lingering in shadowy parts of the lawn.

  “This party is creepy,” I said, stepping away from the guy and brushing off the eerie feeling of being watched as I made my way back inside. A few rounds of the ballroom revealed Torstein tucked away in a grouping of couches, his shiny shoes kicked up onto a table in the middle, a drink in his hand and an amused twinkle in his eye. He was flanked on either side by two more couches, where I was surprised to find the two werewolves from the bar—one on the couch to the left of Torstein and one to the right. Their couches were also suspiciously overflowing with women. There was a fae in a gold dress draped along the back of one of the couches, her eyes transfixed to the ceiling. I glanced up, realising that there had been a whole other party going on up there. Pixies were flitting through the dim light, blinking in and out like fireflies and barely illuminating the floating structures above. I couldn’t figure out what they were, but they almost looked like beds.

  The fae woman raised her arm up, her fingers lazily reaching. She looked drunk, or high, or both. There were women piled around Werewolf Number One and Werewolf Number Two—some perched on the arms of the couches, one of them even sitting on the floor. Each werewolf had at least two women whispering things to them, hands on their chests, legs thrown over theirs. The rest of them were all staring at Torstein, who’s couch was suspiciously bare.

  A blond with a pair of wings tattooed on her back stood and stretched, her movements sinuous and deliberate, drawn-out for the pleasure of watching eyes. Her power was like a vibration emanating from her. She had some kind of shape-shifting ability—I recognised the feel of it. She made to sit on the edge of Torstein’s couch, but he raised a finger, and she paused, her butt a few inches from the leather.

  “You know the rules, darlin’.” Werewolf Number One drawled, motioning her over to him with a sympathetic expression. “No touchy. Only looky.”

  She pouted, retreating back to her original position, as close to the arm of Torstein’s couch as she could manage without actually touching it. I snorted, shaking my head before I stepped into their private little group, my arms crossing over my chest. Torstein lifted his head lazily, delivering me a wink that had my insides quivering. With … hatred? I was going to assume it was hatred. I tried to muster some of that hatred and plaster it all over my face. I wasn’t sure that I succeeded, but I was sure that whatever I had managed to muster fell away almost instantly when Torstein patted the couch beside him. The gathered women gasped, and I could feel the unanimous chanting that started up in their heads. Chosen One. Chosen One. Chosen One.

  I cringed, shaking my head. I refused to actually open my mouth and speak to him, because all I wanted to do was shout at him for using me as a distraction so that he could remove a guy’s finger. He was also apparently refusing to speak to me, and I was sure that it was because he wanted to whisper another devious task into my ear. So, I remained stubbornly where I was, my feet stuck to the floor. Far out of whispering distance.

  “Is that your girlfriend?” One of the fairies on the couch asked, glancing up from Werewolf Number Two to ask Torstein the question. She had bright blue lipstick on, matching the sparkling midnight-blue of her minidress.

  “No,” I snapped, before he could answer. “I’m just his lackey until he agrees to come home with me so that I can question him about my dead friend. Pretty typical situation.”

  “She’s dead?” Torstein asked, just as the girl spoke up again.

  “Well then how come she gets to sit on the couch?”

  All of us were silent for a beat before Torstein stood, walking toward me. “She gets to sit on the couch because I find it mysteriously unbearable to have her near me if my hands aren’t on her.”

  He stopped before me, and true to his word, he was already reaching for me. I quickly skipped around him, heading to the now-vacant couch and claiming it as my own—along with Torstein’s abandoned drink. I wasn’t surprised when he came back and sat next to me, but I was shocked when he reached over and dragged me onto his lap, hooking one of my knees to the other side of his hip. The front and back section o
f my chain-link dress parted, revealing the full lines of my legs as his hands settled against the bare skin of my thighs. I felt his power nudge, but my Chameleon was content with whatever ability currently resided in my skin.

  “Don’t play coy with me, Sparky. You’re trying to persuade me to leave with you, remember?”

  I decided to hedge my bets and hope for something painful, and then I encouraged my new power to come out and play. It rushed through my body faster than I would have expected, and I saw the flash of surprise in Torstein’s eyes a second before my vision snapped into darkness. Suddenly, the heat of his palms disappeared, and I could no longer feel the hard muscles of his thighs beneath mine. I fell back, but didn’t hit the floor as I had been expecting. Soft, billowy sheets comforted my fall, a plush mattress beneath me, cool silk whispering against my skin.

  What the fuck?

  I closed my eyes and waited three seconds before opening them again. I was still shrouded in darkness, the softness of silk blanketing my body. I scrambled upward, straining my other senses. I could hear the band playing, and I caught a twinkle of light out of the corner of my eye, drawing me over to the edge of the mattress. Oh. Shit. I had somehow teleported myself to one of the floating structures near the ceiling. The little pixies were dancing beneath me, flitting in and out of the fog—the stage visible below. I could make out the long blue hair of the siren singing, and the bright, flame-coloured hair of the drummer. Beyond the dancing couples, I could also see the grouping of couches where I had left Torstein and the others. Torstein was on his feet, his face a cold mask as he scanned the sea of people moving around him. The werewolves didn’t seem to be fazed in the slightest, though some of the women had scattered now that it looked like Torstein was about to storm off.

  I narrowed my eyes, focussing on him as best I could as I clutched the silken edge of the bed, and then I closed my eyes and reached for the magic coursing through me. I felt the same snap of darkness as before, my senses momentarily snatched away, and then I was colliding with a hard body, a surprised grunt sounding in my ear.