He finishes and slides the drink across the bar into my open hand. “You’re going to learn everything soon enough.”
“Yeah? So why don’t you just tell me now? You can start with explaining how you can shoot fire from your mouth.” I take a sip of the drink he created while I wait for an answer—something I quickly realize I’m not going to get. He’s watching me, waiting for my reaction to his drink, so I give it to him. “This is really good.”
“I know.” He smirks.
“Tell me what else you know.” I lean forward on my seat, giving him a peek at the excellent cleavage this dress affords. Since I’m forced to wear it, I may as well get something out of it.
His eyes drift down as I expected they would. He clears his throat, squaring his shoulders, and his gaze snaps up to settle over my head. “Sorry, Princess. You’re not exactly . . . my type.”
I stiffen. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”
Dec nods his head, but it’s not in answer to me. It’s a greeting.
Luca presses into the tight space beside me, shouldering out of the way a tall, villainous-looking guy I would steer clear of if I ever passed him on the quiet streets of Castien Valley. The subtle scent of Luca’s cologne comes with him, inducing a flood of long-repressed memories and emotions.
He still wears the same cologne, and his eyes will probably always carry the mischievous glint of a boy who loved trouble. He’s a little taller than I remember, and more defined in all the places a man who works out should be. Despite the new way he’s styling his hair these days and the fact that he must not own a reliable razor, he’s totally familiar to me.
How did I not recognize him immediately? How did I not realize who he was the moment I looked into those unforgettable eyes?
His breath fans my neck as he leans in close, and his mouth skims my ear to elicit an embarrassing swath of goosebumps to spatter across my skin. “Are you ready to talk to me now?”
As much as I hate my traitorous body’s response to him, I tolerate it with a smirk on my face because he has what I need.
He has answers.
Chapter Eight
As if the band is in cahoots with him—which wouldn’t surprise me, seeing as how everyone besides me seems to be in on the same twisted joke—they shift into a slow, intimate song that immediately causes every couple on the dance floor to practically hump each other.
I hate to admit how it makes me feel. The rhythmic beat mixed with the sultry voice of the lead singer penetrates me in a way no melody has before. I turn toward the stage, unable to resist the pull, even with Luca at my side.
Luca’s voice is a whisper in my ear. “She’s a siren.”
“A what? Who?” My knees weaken and my voice comes out all breathy, and I hate it. I despise my body’s response to him. I choose to blame the music.
“Marina. The lead singer.” Luca nods toward the stage. “She’s a siren.”
“As in a mythical creature that lures horny sailors to their deaths?” I shoot Luca a teasing smirk over my shoulder. “Are you drunk?”
“Are you?”
I glance at the drink in my hand with a frown. There is alcohol in my system—I have no doubt about that—but not enough to explain the things I have experienced tonight. I look out at the dance floor again, at the number of dancers swaying to Marina’s voice, then to Luca. He’s watching me intently.
“This is all . . . real, isn’t it?” I stammer. “I didn’t hallucinate the paper materializing out of thin air, or the fact that my Little Red Riding Hood costume transformed into this.” I flick a hand at the red satin and black lace gown the one dress shop in Castien Valley would never carry. “I really was escorted here by my fairy godmother and saw stone statues turn into real, live, talking men. The lady at the bar really did down a shot of blood, which means she actually is a vampire, and that means the angry lady with the tail probably really had a tail. And Dec . . .” I peer up at Luca with wide eyes. “He shoots fire from his mouth.”
Luca’s eyes soften at the corners. “All real, Sav.”
“Oh, God.” I press a palm to my waist as my other hand brings the glass to my lips. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”
Luca is silent as I chug half of Dec’s drink in one swallow. Proving I am anything but the dignified princess everyone keeps calling me, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before finishing off the drink with a second gulp.
“Little Red Riding Hood?” Luca asks.
“Huh?” I nibble on a chunk of roasted pineapple for distraction.
A glint of familiar mischievousness flares in Luca’s eyes, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’m sucking on pineapple like a porn star or because of the subject. Maybe both. “You were dressed as Little Red Riding Hood earlier?”
“A sexy one, too.” I finish off the fruit and lick the juice from my fingers. “Typical high school Halloween-slash-birthday costume party. My boyfriend was the big, bad wolf before I caught him fucking Rapunzel in the back seat of his car.”
“What?” It’s only one word, but the tone in which he says it speaks volumes.
I don’t care that Luca is pissed. I don’t care about much of anything at the moment, thanks to Dec and this drink. The rum has done its job, and I am essentially numb to everything. That includes common sense.
“You know.” I shrug. “The blonde locked away in the tower with all the hair . . .”
“I know who Rapunzel is.”
“Oh.” My gaze travels up the lapels of Luca’s leather jacket, over the sturdy chest and shoulders no piece of clothing can hide, and I attempt to focus on his face. “You don’t strike me as a guy who would know Disney characters.”
“You’ve met my sister,” Luca points out.
I nod at the blurry memory of the youngest Caspan, who is a year or two younger than me, but lived in an entirely different world the last time I saw her. In fact, all the Caspans did. They were okay for rich people, I suppose, but their wealth was obvious, and I never felt comfortable with them. Luca was the exception and the only one who didn’t flaunt his money.
I flick a glance at him, not surprised to see that not much has changed. He makes that leather jacket look good, not the other way around, and nothing about his appearance screams “trust fund kid.” I would never know . . . if not for that unforgettable summer he told me his secrets between kisses.
I find myself drawn to his eyes as more memories flood me. He’s watching me closely, and a muscle in his jaw ticks.
“I hope he’s an ex now,” Luca says.
I blink. “Who?”
He swallows hard before gritting, “The big, bad wolf.”
“Oh. Him. Yeah, he’s . . . that’s over.” I lift the glass to my lips to take another drink but find it empty.
“Good.” Luca takes it from me and sets it on the bar counter. I frown when he returns without another one. “Dance with me, Sav.”
I peer at the dance floor with wide eyes. “I don’t know. I . . .”
It was intimidating before. Now that I know everything about this night is real, it’s downright terrifying.
“You’re with me,” Luca assures me quietly. “You’re safe with me.”
It sounds like he’s holding back a laugh. When I turn to look at him, I find amused eyes and a smirk. I suppose that familiar combination gives me the confidence I need because I place my hand in his with a nod.
We don’t go far, finding a spot near the back of the dance floor where the number of terrifying party guests is at a tolerable level. I can handle a couple of glittery-faced and innocent-looking couples, even if their feet aren’t touching the floor. I look away from them to find eyes staring at me from the shadows. The dark vertical slits in the center narrow, and I instinctively shift closer to Luca.
His arms come around me protectively, and a low chuckle vibrates in his throat. “Feline shifter. Trust me when I say you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
“Why do I get the feeling that was ano
ther inside joke that I’m not in on?”
I tip my face up to his and flinch from our sudden nearness. My God, I haven’t been this close to Luca since . . . the last night we were together on the beach of Silver Lake. He’s holding the necklace I tossed into the water the following year when I realized he wasn’t coming back—the necklace that jarred memories I never should have forgotten.
I take a deep, calming breath before I start my line of questions because something tells me that weird is about to get a whole lot weirder. I start with something basic, something that probably should have been addressed right away—at least before I agreed to dance with him.
“Considering the theme of this ball appears to be a confluence of every supernatural creature ever created, I can’t help but wonder . . .” I trail a nervous gaze up from the base of Luca’s throat, across his strong jaw, and finally to his eyes. “How are you here?”
He answers me with a lopsided grin.
“What are you supposed to be?” I ask over the pounding of my heart.
“This is real, Sav. I’m not supposed to be anything. I just . . . am.”
“What?” I swallow. “What exactly are you?”
“A shifter,” he tells me. “A wolf shifter, to be exact.”
Despite the no-nonsense look on his face, a giggle bubbles up inside of me. I can’t control it, and it slips out before I stifle the rest of my inappropriate freak out with a hand to my mouth. I find the familiar angry feline eyes in the crowd again, and my body vibrates with barely suppressed humor.
“I’m glad you find this so amusing,” Luca mutters.
“I can’t help it.” I hiccup. “You’re telling me that you are a werewolf, and you expect—”
“Shifter,” he repeats between clenched teeth.
“What?”
“I’m not a werewolf. I’m a shifter who shares a soul with a wolf.”
I wait for more of an explanation as to what the difference is, but when it doesn’t come, I ask, “How is that different?”
“That guy”—he jabs a finger toward the stage, where the band’s broad-shouldered guitar player strums a slow beat—“is a werewolf. So is that one.” He draws my attention to a shaggy haired man who looks as if he ate a nymph or two recently. Luca’s finger wags, pointing out more exceptionally large men scattered across the room. “Can you see the distinction?”
“You’re . . . well defined,” I admit with an involuntary glance at his thick, leather-clad biceps. “But you don’t look as if you could huff and puff and blow a house down. Those guys could and probably do.”
He nods. “We belong to completely different worlds.”
“So how are you all here? What is this ball?”
“The Monster Ball,” he tells me. “Magic enables us to come together, one night a year, to celebrate our roles in the supernatural world. Differences are put aside for one night only.”
“Hmm.” Another question tickles my throat, but I can’t put words to it yet. It’s too scary to think about, and I’m afraid of what the answer will do to my seemingly mundane existence. I decide to steer us in a different direction. “How did you find the necklace?”
He holds it in the tiny sliver of space between our bodies, and my eyes drop to fixate on the pointy tip of the fang in his palm. A wolf fang. “I found it on the bank of the lake, and wondered how it could have possibly gotten there.”
I ignore his veiled question, focusing on the other half of that answer. “You came back?” I start to pull away, but I don’t make it far. His grip is tight, and he is strong. “Why didn’t you . . .”
“I couldn’t see you,” he says as if the words cause him physical pain.
“Yes, you could have. It’s simple, really. Pick up a phone, dial my number . . . Or better yet, use your feet and walk your sorry ass—”
“Sav.” It’s not the use of the nickname that stops me but the tone. It’s sharp and powerful, like a command I can’t help but follow. “I wasn’t permitted to see you. There are rules, and I had to follow them. Something happened, and the only reason we returned at all was to . . .”
“What?” I press when he trails off. “What happened?”
His eyes meet and hold mine. “My grandfather died shortly after we . . . went home. That changed a lot of things for my family, in big ways you had no way of understanding then.”
“And now?”
“You’ll understand them soon,” he answers cryptically.
“You’re still not telling me anything,” I whine. “Why did you come back and not tell me? How could you not try to see me?”
“I couldn’t,” he repeats. “We only came back to make sure you forgot all about me.” His words make no sense, but he doesn’t stop there. My world spins upside down, faster and faster, as he continues, “That’s why you didn’t recognize me right away, why you still don’t remember everything, and why you probably won’t remember any of what I’m telling you come morning.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”
“Last summer, probably sometime after you threw the necklace in the lake,” he starts slowly, “we came back. Your dad brought you to the cabin . . .”
“No. I would remember—”
“They thought it would be safer for you to forget all about us. Magic was used to cloud your memories of my family . . . and me. And magic”—he lifts the necklace still in his hand higher—“brought it back. Temporarily.”
“The necklace is magic?”
He grins. “Your mother’s necklace that you tossed into the lake? Yeah, it holds magic.”
I shake my head rapidly. “This is ridiculous.”
“You’re a shifter, Sav. Same as me. A wolf.”
A short, hysterical laugh shoots out of my mouth.
“Your mother was a shifter,” he continues quickly. “A rather important shifter, considering she was a princess.”
“Wow.” I place a hand on my stomach because it hurts from laughing so much. I want to stop laughing, but I can’t. I fear I will never stop.
“That makes you a princess, Sav. You are a princess in the shifter royal court, and tonight you will shift into a wolf for the first time.”
Chapter Nine
I stare at our feet as they glide over the dance floor, shaking my head. My laughter has faded, replaced by stunned silence. Luca watches me with a hint of caution on his handsome face like he expects me to turn on him and ruin the party à la Carrie White. But I can’t do that because a teenage girl going on a murderous rampage with supernatural powers doesn’t happen in the real world. It just doesn’t.
Then again, I woke up this morning believing werewolves were nothing more than cheap-wigged, make-up-artist-inspired, Hollywood horror icons. Now they’re real, along with every other make believe creature stemming from childhood fables and nightmares.
But me as one of them? And a princess on top of that? It’s too much. It’s too unbelievable.
I glance around at the other dancers, waiting for them all to crack up and point their fingers at me, because obviously, I’m the punch line of this joke.
“Why are you doing this?” I mutter.
“Because you need to know. You need to be prepared, and you—”
“No. I don’t mean . . .” I look up, fixing my gaze determinedly on Luca’s. “I’m not a shifter. That’s crazy. Why are you doing this to me?”
“Sav . . .”
I rip out of his grasp. “Don’t ‘Sav’ me! I told you not to call me that!”
“Fine.” He drops the hand extended to me. “But I can’t let you go.”
I scoff. “You’re the one behind all of this, aren’t you?”
“The party? No. I’m merely a guest. Same as you.”
“But you . . .” I remember something Gwen said earlier, about some prince insisting that I come tonight. I’ve heard several references to “the prince” tonight and thought nothing of it. Until now. I point an accusatory finger at Luca. “You brought me here. You’re . .
. the prince. This is all because of you.”
He stares at me, saying nothing. That, in itself, is an answer.
I still need to hear it. “Luca, are you a prince?” I repeat.
His unwavering gaze holds mine. “Yes.”
So he’s a prince, I’m a princess, and we’re both shifters. I’m a smart girl; I get mostly A’s. I’m capable of formulating an educated conclusion based on the information I have been presented with, but I don’t want to. I want Luca to explain it to me. “What—what does this mean?”
I don’t get an answer. Not really. Luca stands, tall and imposing, an arm’s length from me without uttering a single word. The only clue I get comes from the lust blazing in his eyes as he soaks me in.
When he finally moves, it is to close the distance between us. One hand cups the back of my neck in a delicate, yet possessive, grip while his hungry gaze lowers to fixate on my mouth. We stand motionless in the dark corner of the ballroom, surrounded by dancing monsters, and I don’t care. In this moment, my entire universe revolves around Luca Caspan’s pouty, waiting lips.
I want to kiss him, perhaps as badly as he wants to kiss me. I’ve seen this look in his eyes before. I know what it means. Something phenomenal is about to happen. I nearly forget that I’m mad at him.
He reminds me when he finally uses his mouth—not to kiss me but to speak. “I have waited years for this. No more secrets between us. Now you know the truth about what I am and what you are. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.”
“You thought this was the best way to do it? Blindside me at some ball, surrounded by supernatural freaks?” My voice is a quivering mess, and I hate how weak it makes me sound. But dammit, I’m mad at him. A little turned on, but mostly mad. “You couldn’t find the opportunity to say something the entire three months we spent together that summer?”
“It was . . . complicated. Your mother wanted to keep you out of the royal life. It was her choice. My family was entrusted to see her wishes through after she died. I didn’t get a say on the matter then.” He groans as if in agony, and his grip on my neck tightens. “Sav, it damn near killed me to let you go. I realize now that it was a mistake. I’m not going to make it again.”
The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 59