The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “Right. I’m sorry.” I examine the bottles of liquor behind him, but feel overwhelmed at the broad collection. Besides, I’m not so sure more alcohol is what I need at this point.

  I hesitate too long. A second bartender, with white hair, red contacts, and a black leather bustier covering her curvy figure, slams an elbow into Dec’s ribs. Flashing him a pointed look, she slides a red drink rimmed with crushed candy across the bar.

  “Here you go, Princess.” She winks at me, and something inside of me stirs. It’s weird because I’ve never had the inkling to be with a woman before, but something about this one makes me think it might be kind of fun. I wonder if she—

  “I was taking care of it,” Dec tells her, his baritone voice cutting off my baffling thoughts.

  I draw in a breath to compose myself before I do or say something embarrassing.

  “It wasn’t me. It was him.” The white-haired beauty nods toward the other side of the bar then walks away with a shrug. She doesn’t look at me again, and I’m equally relieved and disappointed. Maybe a little more relieved.

  I turn to search Dec’s demeanor for a clue to clear up her confusing parting words. His gaze drifts in the direction she indicated, and the grin on his lips dies. He nods his head at whoever has snared his attention. Then he nudges the red drink closer to me.

  “You’ll like this one. It’s Imperia’s specialty. Some swear it’s like a big party in your mouth.” He winks and starts to walk away.

  “Wait a minute.” I stop him. “Where did it come from?”

  “It’s courtesy of . . .” Dec tips his head to the side. “Him.”

  “Where?” I ask, but Dec is gone.

  I peer the length of the bar, searching for eyes aimed at me or a smile hinting at who is behind the drink. I see more vampires and fairies and one very convincing witch. My search finally reaches the end of the long line, and my gaze collides with a pair of blue eyes. I’m talking Prince-Charming, singing-in-a-meadow-of-daisies-under-a-clear-sky kind of blue eyes. They’re deep and mesmerizing and maybe a little familiar.

  I observe the rest of him, from his dark hair that looks as if it needs a comb to his full lips curved into a grin, and the hint of stubble covering his strong jaw. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and no obvious costume. I’m not sure who he is, or what he is supposed to be other than “gorgeous guy at the bar,” but there is something about him. I get the feeling that I’ve seen him before, but that can’t be. I would remember someone like him.

  The problem is that he is staring at me as if he is suffering from the same sense of recognition. Except he doesn’t appear all that confused. Smoldering. That is the appropriate word I’m searching for.

  That grin, combined with those eyes, screams of confidence . . . and a trace of danger. I look away when the intensity hits the maximum level I can handle. I cool myself down with a sip of the red drink. The crushed candy fizzes and pops in my mouth, momentarily distracting me.

  “A party in my mouth.” I laugh, inspecting the delicious drink closer. Really, I’m trying not to look at the mysterious, blue-eyed heartthrob sitting at the bar. I’m trying really hard though I realize I should probably thank him for the drink . . . assuming it came from him.

  What if I’m wrong? What if he isn’t interested? What if he wasn’t looking at me? Good Lord, what if the bartender gave the drink to me by mistake, and I’m cluelessly basking in the spotlight that was intended for some other girl?

  I can’t stand it anymore. Like an insect drawn to the brilliant-yet-deadly light that ultimately leads to its demise, I look. I search the end of the bar where I last saw the mysterious stranger, but he is no longer there.

  A surprisingly heavy lump of disappointment settles in my stomach. It hurts a lot more than it should. He may be the best looking guy I have ever laid eyes on, but I don’t know him. Twenty seconds of eye contact doesn’t equate to conversation, no matter how tingly it made me in places I had no idea could tingle. We never exchanged words, let alone bodily fluids.

  I shouldn’t care that he’s left without a trace. But I do, even if I don’t understand why.

  I shift my attention toward the stage as the band starts a new song. My sigh of frustration is swallowed up by the crescendo. The lead singer finds her tune, and it matches the hollowness I feel in my chest. The music speaks to me in a deeply personal way that should not be possible. I’m transfixed, bordering on comatose, as I watch and listen.

  The song is halfway over before I realize I’m being watched by someone on the dance floor. It’s not the blue eyes I miss, for some unexplainable reason, but a set of dark-brown, angry eyes that are staring at me. They’re attached to a young woman with straight, long, black hair, highlighted by deep-purple streaks, and long legs made longer by the ridiculous heels on her feet. She’s wearing a narrow sliver of a metallic-shiny black cloth that covers her girl parts but leaves little else to the imagination.

  Her narrowed eyes are fixed on me as she makes her way across the dance floor, elbowing dancers out of her way. Her destination is clear.

  She’s coming for me.

  Chapter Four

  I’m a senior in high school. I’ve experienced my fair share of confrontation—including a hefty dose of it earlier tonight. I’m not a fan. Never have been. It usually leaves me feeling itchy and in need of a bubble bath. Unfortunately, it’s not done with me yet.

  Confrontation tears across the ballroom like a tornado heading directly for me. While my sense of self-preservation demands I seek shelter from the impending fallout, my feisty side sparks to life.

  Want to take a guess as to which side wins?

  “You must be president of the welcoming committee,” I call out to my scowling, uninvited guest.

  “Clever for someone so dumb.” She marches up to the bar, and wedges into the narrow space beside me.

  A drink appears on the bar in front of her, and I can’t help but be a little impressed. I don’t know why. I doubt it’s a good sign that the bartenders apparently know what she wants without her having spoken a word to either of them. She puts the glass to her lips, and half of the dark drink disappears before she turns to me. Her mouth curves into a grimace as her eyes sweep me from head to toe and back again.

  My hackles rise. “Do you have a problem?”

  She ignores my question in favor of continuing her unsolicited appraisal. Her eyes finally meet mine. The dark vertical slits of her pupils narrow, and the surrounding sea of amber darkens. I’m sure I’m imagining the growl that vibrates from her throat, but I step away with a gasp anyway. My back collides with the pointy elbow of whoever is behind me.

  “I-I . . . sorry,” I stammer over my shoulder.

  Looking at the woman again, I see normal round pupils . . . and a smirk.

  “Do you have a problem?” she sneers.

  “No. I . . .” My eyes flick to the pointy nails on her long, manicured fingers. “I was just admiring your costume. What are you supposed to be?”

  I look up when no response follows. One side of her mouth twitches as she stares at me, and I’m about to give up hope on her answering when she finally says, “A sexy feline.” She shifts a little, permitting me a peek at the cord-like tail cleverly attached to her backside.

  “Oh? I see—” The tail snaps before curling around her waist, and my mouth drops open. “How did you . . .”

  She stares at me a beat longer than comfortable before finally saying, “Batteries.”

  I nod once. “Impressive . . . prop.”

  “Yes. It seems some of us have overdone ourselves tonight.” Her gaze lifts to the tiara still perched on top of my head, and her teeth grate. “Princess.”

  “Why did you call me that?”

  Her brows shoot up. “That is what you are.”

  “But—”

  “You certainly look the part.” Her eyes rake over me. “Don’t let the illusion fool you. The Royals aren’t in control tonight.”

  “What illusion?
What are you—”

  She steps closer, and her sudden nearness blocks the words from finding their way up my throat. “You probably shouldn’t venture into the shadows. This could be a dangerous place for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me? Who are you?”

  “My name is Vye, and you’ll be seeing me again before the night is over.” Her eyes narrow on the tiara, and she gives her head a sharp shake. She starts to turn away, stops, and leans close. Her words are a whisper in my ear. “For God’s sake, open your eyes and see what’s around you. You may be immature, but you’re not stupid.”

  My mouth drops open, but she’s gone before I can get another question out. I doubt she would have answered me anyway. Strangely worded cryptic phrases that make no sense seem to be her thing. Only one thing she said made an ounce of sense.

  Open your eyes and see what’s around you.

  I’m doing that now, and I’m not so sure I like what I see. It was enough to digest when I thought this was a hardcore party with guests who took the costume theme to a level that would terrify most Halloween lovers. I can’t swallow the nagging suspicion that this is so much more than that.

  I glance around the dance floor, observing the different eye and hair colors, sharp teeth, and dresses ranging from sweet and flirty to downright naughty. I know costumes—and I’m not seeing costumes. Not now that I’m looking closely.

  A rushing noise comes from behind me, and I spin around to find Dec standing at the bar while he ignites a drink on fire . . . with his mouth. I stare at the flames, searching for their hidden source. They appear to be coming from him, but that’s not possible.

  That shouldn’t be possible.

  Dec looks up, catches my gaze, and winks. The flames vanish, and he slides the drink across the bar to a woman with purple eyes and a gown so tight I worry about her ability to breath. Beside her, two women down identical shots of a thick red liquid. Then they proceed to make out. My gaze travels down the length of the bar before settling on a tiny, porcelain-skinned woman in a dazzling silver dress that flows to her ankles. I blink, suddenly aware that she doesn’t appear to have feet.

  She floats, or flies—or whatever verb currently evading me most accurately describes her actions—onto the dance floor where she disappears amongst a large crowd of freaks who I’m suddenly not so sure are in costume. Or playing roles.

  “Oh my God.” I look around frantically for Gwen since she’s the one who brought me here, and I have questions. So many questions, starting with one. “Is this for real?”

  A response comes unexpectedly from behind me. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

  I turn toward the deep voice and come face-to-face with the mysterious blue-eyed stranger from the bar. He’s even more good-looking up close. His appearance somehow balances the line between dangerous rogue and charming prince, with a potential baby face hidden under day old scruff and hardened only by a small scar cutting diagonally above his left eyebrow, dark tufts of hair that manage to give him both a sophisticated and rebellious look, and upturned lips that are equally comforting and menacing. Even the leather jacket is throwing me because it’s not giving me the “bad boy biker” vibe. He remains cloaked in mystery, but with one look into his intense eyes, I know one thing is for certain.

  “I’m in trouble.”

  Chapter Five

  He steps closer, and one corner of his mouth hitches higher. “Excuse me?”

  “Um . . . nothing.” I shake my head rapidly. “I said nothing.”

  “You definitely said something.” His eyes travel the length of my body like a long, relaxing road trip from my shoes to my hair with an extended stay in the middle. I’m not a blusher—I balk at the idea of flushing in response to something a guy does—but I feel a little warm by the time he wraps up his tour.

  All that excess heat fires up my temper, and by the time he finds his way back to my eyes, they’re narrowed and waiting. My smart mouth isn’t far behind.

  “Did you have a good time?” I snap.

  His head tips to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “Your little vacation to the land of Savannah.” I sweep one hand up and down my dress—what little there is in the front. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

  His grin grows to an infuriating size. “I did.”

  “Good, because it was your last.” I turn with the intention of walking away. I have no idea where I will go in a room full of strangers, every one of them a perfect example of who to not find yourself alone with in a dark alley. With any luck, I can find Gwen and beg her to get me out of here.

  I don’t make it two steps before Naughty Prince Charming snags my elbow. “Where are you running off to in such a hurry?”

  “Home.”

  His brows shoot up. “So soon? Didn’t you just get here?”

  “I’m not exactly enjoying myself enough to stay.”

  He lowers his gaze to my hands with a frown. “Don’t like the drink?”

  “I don’t—” I shake my head at him, my frustration multiplying by the second. “This has nothing to do with the drink. It’s . . . you and everyone here. I don’t belong here.”

  “I beg to differ.” He grins again.

  “Really?” I gape at him. “Have you seen the guests in attendance tonight?”

  His gaze lifts over my head, toward the dance floor, and he shrugs. “It’s the one night a year we can all forget about the dangers in our world, put aside our differences, and have fun. Some take it to the extreme.”

  I stare at him as I consider his choice of words. There is little sense to make of them, much like everything else I have seen and heard this evening. He wrongly mistakes my silence for reconsideration.

  “Let me get you another drink,” he offers with a deep voice full of hope.

  “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” I turn again.

  He stops me. “You won’t find her.”

  “Who?”

  “Gwendolyn. You won’t find her. Trust me.”

  “She left?”

  “No. She’s here, but you still won’t find her. Not until she wants to be found.”

  I gape at him. “That makes no sense.”

  He shrugs like he thinks he makes perfect sense.

  “How am I going to get a ride home if I can’t find her?”

  “A ride?” He laughs, and a dimple makes an appearance. “How exactly did you think you got here? No. You know what? I’d rather not know what she did to make this work. You’re here. That’s what matters.”

  “But I’m not here. I’m leaving, with or without Gwen.” I give him one last look and walk away. I don’t know how I will find my way home, but I’ll figure it out. I hope it will be as easy as opening my eyes and waking up.

  I push between clusters of dancing monsters, elbowing my way through the thick crowd. The music pouring from the stage rattles my bones in sync with the gyrating bodies all around me. Strange noises compete with the melody for recognition in my ears—things like growls and hisses and other creepy noises that belong in nightmares. The fog swirls and thickens around my feet, making it difficult to see where I am going. All I know is that I’m heading toward the entrance. I can see it in front of me.

  Then suddenly, he’s there. Again. He steps into my path, blocking my route of escape. He may look tempting as sin, dressed up as whatever man candy character he’s supposed to be, but I’m not having any of it. Not anymore.

  “Don’t you have anyone else to annoy?” I ask as I try to skirt around him. I fail miserably and somehow find my arm in the clutches of his strong grip.

  “That wasn’t very nice. Lucky for me, I’m not easily offended.” His amused smirk fades as he darts a look behind me. “But you really shouldn’t do that again. It’s not safe here for someone like you.”

  “Then why won’t you let me leave?”

  His eyes meet mine. “Because it’s not safe out there either. Not anymore.”

  “What? Home is
not safe?” I laugh, and fear I’m nearing hysterics. “Do you have any idea where I’m from? The headlines in Castien Valley alternate between the occasional moose walking down Main Street and the gossip at the senior center. Trust me. It’s far from dangerous, and I want to go. Now. I’ve had a long night and anticipate worse for tomorrow. I’m exhausted, and emotional, and really, really confused.”

  I end my tirade with a wary glance around the ballroom as the music shifts to something a little slower. Dancers inch closer, body parts press together, and mouths attach. I’m particularly concerned about the dark corner over my shoulder where I’m positive an orgy is about to break out at any minute.

  “I can help with some of that,” Mr. Charming tells me softly. “If you let me.”

  My widened eyes shoot to him, and I fear that he noticed the direction of my gaze and misread the situation. I also kind of want to know what it would be like to take him to a dark corner, and that’s a scary realization. I worry that he has somehow read my mind. “Some of what?” I ask him cautiously.

  “The confusion? About the ball?” He chuckles lightly. “I can help you with that.”

  I snort. “I doubt it.”

  I twist away from him, trying to find an open path to the exit. He comes up behind me, and his breath fans the exposed skin behind my ear.

  “Savvy, stay. Please. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this night.”

  “Whoa, buddy.” I whirl around, putting as much distance between his mouth and my neck as possible. “Don’t call me that. Only my friends call me Savvy.”

  “Sav . . .”

  “Or Sav. That’s off limits, too.”

  His lips curve into an infuriating grin. “Because we’re not friends?”

  “Right.”

  “What if we were?”

  “But we’re not. One drink at the bar doesn’t mean anything.” I emphasize the word to make sure he understands I’m talking about more than friendship. Just in case he’s got the wrong idea about what’s going to happen here tonight. I’m leaving. Nothing more.