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Did he seriously just crack a joke?

I’m still trying to recognize what the hell has happened when he bows at the waist and produces a box from the ground. He holds it up, narrowing his eyes as if he’s expecting me to take it.

So, I do. No use pissing off such old blood. And by how quickly that laughter cut off, I’d say I’d be in for quite a temperament change if I dared act out of character.

I avoid eye contact in that case.

When I accept the box, he dashes around me, producing a chair for me to sit. I ease into the cushions as though it had been behind me the whole time. Once I have the lid off the box—a shoe box, granting me the kind of palpitations I could have never imagined from looking atshoes—I have to try my best to keep my jaw from smacking the ground.

“No, this is too much,” I say while lowering the box to the ground.

Darius doesn’t allow it.

He kneels in front of me, posture perfect, hands reverently handling the most elegant heels I’ve ever seen. They’re the same green as my dress embroidered with flowers.

He lifts my foot. “It’s tradition.”

“I’ll trip and fall, Darius.”

“You’ll do no such thing.”

I shake my head and retract my foot. “It’s just—”

He grips my ankle. “What is it? Embarrassing? Because from where I sit, little viper, you’ve exposed yourself to me in ways that others would consider far more embarrassing than wearing a pair of brand-new Jimmy Choo’s.”

“Jimmy—who?”

He snorts. The sound gets lodged in his throat and rapidly devolves into a cough. Only one cough. What the hell doesthatone mean?

He sighs as he forces my feet into the shoes. Though there’s not much forcing happening since the shoes are a perfect fit. When they’re on, I point my toes together, too timid to stand.

Darius hoists me up and plants me on my feet like the gangly, awkward little girl I am.

“How can you even—” I wave my arms to keep my balance. Darius catches my waist. I ignore the heat that glows in my core as a result. “Money. How do you get money for these things?Wheredo you get them? It’s not like you have a vampire catalogue or whatever.”

Chiseled features hardly betray even so much as a twitch. If he’s amused, he’s not showing it. Or maybe he’s just baffled.

I’ve been known to do that.

“Old money,” he replies. “Fur and silk trade. After that, we got into stocks and bonds. We have a few of our own who trade on Wall Street.”

“You have vampire stockbrokers.”

His brow furrows. “We’ve taken over many things in the cover of night. Why not Wall Street too?”

“Listen—”

“We’re going to be late, Amber. I suggest you get used to the heels if you want to make a good impression.” He releases my waist tentatively. “That’s it. Small steps are ladylike.”

I’ll show you ladylike, I thought with irritation.I’d embarrass you if it didn’t mean I would lose my station.

And that was that. Darius guided me to the door and into the night—the dark, foreboding, uncertain night.

Fancy coats, over-the-top makeup, wigs larger than life, and feathers of every color presented themselves to me as I entered the ballroom. Lavish gowns sprouted around us as the wearers spun in organized circles. It’s a waltz—or Ithinkit’s a waltz. It’s whatever this court does.

Which is way more extravagant than King Marr.

Rumor had it back home that the original cause of the war between Maggard and Marr was a social slip. Marr’s courtier misinformed him of the proper fashion for some party and he was laughed right out of the ballroom.


Tags: Kay Widow Paranormal