Charity lurches forward, her body still moving with that strange stiffness from earlier. As if her limbs really don’t want to move the way they’re moving but have no choice.
Looking at her face, I search for any clue that she’s conscious of what’s happening. Her expression is flat and emotionless.
Eyes glazed over, they remind me of a doll’s. Shiny like plastic and showing no spark of life.
Nikolaos’s face pinches with distaste as Charity shuffles toward him.
At the same time, out of the corner of my eye I notice a flash of white. Turning my head, I see the vampire that was dancing drop his dance partner to the floor with a thud.
Every little hair on my body rises with some primal instinct as his gaze locks on me.
I couldn’t see it before, and I was so shocked by my surroundings I didn’t look close enough, but as he moves closer, gliding unnaturally across the floor, I can tell he’s… different from the other vampires.
His skin is paler, for one. So pale it’s nearly translucent, causing the thin blue veins on his face to stand out in sharp contrast. His clothes are also strange. I can’t tell if he’s purposely wearing a costume or if his black frock coat was actually tailored in the 1700s.
And his eyes… his eyes are fire-engine red.
I blink quickly, thinking it’s a trick of the red lighting.
But no, as he glides closer, his nostrils flaring, the red remains.
Finally noticing the other vampire’s approach, Nikolaos frowns and turns his attention to him. “Can I help you with something, Ambrose?”
Ignoring Nikolaos’s question, Ambrose circles around us, sniffing the air, then he tries to glide right up to me.
Nikolaos steps in front of me, moving so fast all I see is a blur.
Reeling back with a hiss, Ambrose’s hands come up, his fingers curling into claws.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Nikolaos snarls.
Again, Ambrose ignores Nikolaos’s question. Relaxing his fingers, he seems to think for a second, then he tries to glide around Nikolaos to reach me.
Moving in a blur to block Ambrose, Nikolaos growls, “Back off.”
Drawing up short, Ambrose’s head sways back, much like a snake, as he stares at Nikolaos.
Then his neck cranes around Nikolaos’s shoulders, red gaze returning to me. “My… soulmarked…”
Closing his eyes, Nikolaos cringes. “For fuck’s sake.”
Knox chuckles with amusement as he walks away.
“Give… me…” Ambrose hisses out and tries once more to move around Nikolaos.
Shoving his arm out, Nikolaos stops Ambrose by placing his hand against his chest. “No. This is my Marked. Your Marked is over there…”
Nikolaos jerks his chin to the right, and Ambrose’s eyes follow him to the woman left discarded on the floor.
Motionless, she lies bent forward, her crimson ball gown spread around her like the petals of a wilted flower.
Ambrose frowns at the woman. “Empty…”
Nikolaos’s shoulders slump and it looks as if he wants to sigh again, but then his face lights up with an idea. “Take this one.”
Dropping his hand from Ambrose’s chest, he grabs Charity by the shoulder and shoves her in front of him.
Ambrose takes a step back in surprise at first then all of his attention zeros in on her.
I watch him sniff the air, the tip of his pale tongue peeking out from between his lips.
Grabbing Charity, he pulls her into his arms with a look of excitement.
The word, “No,” leaves my mouth before I’m even aware I said it.
I try to step around Nikolaos to grab Charity, but he pulls me back.
There’s no point in continuing the farce if I can’t save Charity. The only reason I’ve been so compliant up to this point is because I was hoping for another chance to escape.
If I can’t save her… it doesn’t matter what happens to me.
Determined to reach her now, I yank hard on my arm, fighting Nikolaos’s hold.
“No,” I say more firmly, glaring at him. “He can’t have her.”
Nikolaos looks down at me and gives me a patronizing smile. “Don’t worry, little one. He won’t hurt her. He’s already fed.”
Shaking my head, I yank on my arm again and manage to free myself. “I don’t believe you.”
Before I can lift my foot off the floor, Nikolaos’s arm is wrapped around my middle, locking me to the front of his body like a vise. “Look for yourself… all the poor fool wants to do is dance.”
Cradling Charity close, Ambrose whispers something into her ear then he twirls her away from us. Stepping around his previous dance partner, Ambrose spins Charity across the dance floor.
Watching the two of them, I notice after a few breaths that Charity is moving differently. Her eyes are still empty but her motions are no longer robotic. She moves with all the fluid grace of a natural-born dancer.
“See,” Nikolaos says smugly, “she’s perfectly safe with him.”
A part of me wants to believe him, but it only takes one look down at the floor to know he’s lying to me.