Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

W hen I'd thoroughly exhausted myself dancing, I downed a glass of champagne in one gulp. I was flushed and too warm as I watched the elegant dancers parade across the floor.

"I'm surprised Thomas didn't accuse me of being a vampire," Cecelia said, joining me.

I smiled tightly. "Yes, well, I gather it was a man who held him captive. A strikingly handsome man."

Cecelia snorted, and we observed the seamless procession of gowns and suits for a minute.

"I apologize for my rudeness earlier," I said.

She shrugged. "I'm not apologizing for choosing you to play after me."

I chuckled. "Fair enough."

Cecelia placed a hand on my arm. "Come. Let's get some air."

I nodded, allowing her to guide me out onto a patio. The night was still around us as the glow of the ballroom warmed our backs. I leaned against a low wall and sighed, feeling the tension that had been building in me all night melt away into the shadows.

"This world is a lot," Cecelia said. "There are so many obligations. Dances, dinners, callers." She glanced at me. "Life with Ambrose would be even busier, all the time."

"You aren't up to the task?"

"Are you?"

I pursed my lips, not deigning to answer the question.

"I don't think you're right for him."

I raised an eyebrow at the bold statement. "Oh?"

She sighed. "This competition is about finding a good match for Ambrose in his role as duke, but … there are other things to consider."

"I assume you're referring to matters of the heart?"

Cecelia tilted her head and watched me for a moment. Uneasy under her gaze, I looked away. "There is the heart to consider, yes," she agreed. "I think you get along far easier with Maxwell. It's forced with Ambrose."

I scoffed.

"I've known them for years. I know what it takes to bring out the best in Ambrose, and it's not you. I don't say this to be cruel, but I genuinely think you should leave the competition to people who care for him. Truly care."

"You can't take the competition," I murmured, shaking my head. "Unbelievable."

"This is about my friend, Lucian, not the competition." She let out a breath. "And anyway, I see how your eyes linger on Maxwell. You glow when he dotes on you."

"I always glow. I have beautiful skin."

Of course I thought about Maxwell. He was adorable, and he was enjoyable to be around. My thoughts would naturally turn to him in moments when my mind wandered. Like when I'd been dancing with Ambrose earlier. Like the many times I'd hoped Maxwell would kiss me. I scowled, turning away to avoid Cecelia's penetrating stare.

"With Ambrose, on the other hand," she continued, "you have only these sly looks. You're plotting how to win him, like a game. And yes, he's pretty. But he's not who you truly want." She shrugged. "Life might be easier for you with Ambrose, and you might not have the title of ‘duke' if you pivot to what your heart truly desires, but you'd still be important. Isn't that enough?"

"This isn't a game for me. The stakes are high for me too, I'll have you know."

Cecelia pursed her lips. "As you say."

A moment of silence hung between us. She truly cared for him then. Enough to beg me off. I wished I could adhere to her wishes, but of course, that would spell my own doom.

"Did something happen between you and Melbourne?" Cecelia suddenly asked.

I rounded on her with astonishment. "He brought up what happened?"

She crossed her arms. "Not in so many words. I suggested we come to your defense when Thomas started raving. He stopped me, which isn't like him. Melbourne isn't exactly known for his … restraint."

"Truer words," I murmured, shaking my head. "What did he say?"

"That you could handle yourself."

"Well, I clearly can." I squinted at her. "What do you imagine happened between me and Melbourne?"

Cecelia snorted. "That he came on to you and you rejected him."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You think I would have rejected him? I'm quite the incorrigible scoundrel."

She regarded me for a moment, and I shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. "I think you're spoiled and used to getting what you want. I think you wouldn't hesitate to indulge when you have a mind to." She took a step closer to me. "But I also think you keep your guard up and hold your secrets close. You're clearly determined to win Ambrose, and you wouldn't risk that on a tryst, not with a nobody like Melbourne."

"A nobody? Isn't he a count?"

"Viscount. But that's beside the point. You act aloof and … crave attention. But I think you're afraid of letting people see the real you."

I scoffed, refusing to take a step away from her as she drew even closer. "I'm afraid of nothing," I declared, straightening. She sounded like she was speaking of Ambrose, not me. But that didn't sit well with me, not when I loathed him so. Did others see me like that? Was I loathsome ?

The patio door opened, a burst of noise interrupting us as a figure stepped out into the night.

"Oh," Maxwell looked between Cecelia and me. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

Cecelia smiled tightly, sending me a pointed look. "I was just leaving."

She strode past him and into the ballroom, the door muffling the bustle once more when it closed at her back.

"Beautiful night," Maxwell murmured, sauntering over to me, eyes on the stars overhead. "It's so overstimulating at these events. It's nice to take a breather to collect oneself."

"That it is," I muttered, turning my eyes to the dark garden below. I felt him sidle up to me, aware of his body as it settled against the wall just inches from mine. I chanced a look at him, head lifted in profile, lips slightly parted, Adam's apple straining against his throat as he looked up. I watched as he swallowed, lingering on the pulse at his neck. The throbbing artery was usually a sight that sent a greedy hunger racing through me. Now, I could only think of how vulnerable it made Maxwell, so close to the surface. It would take one strike of fangs or a slit with sharp nails to let loose a red torrent that would end his life. I'd exploited such weakness in human flesh countless times before, but the thought of a needless, cruel death for a grotesque form of sustenance turned my stomach now.

I frowned. When had I begun to think of drinking blood as grotesque? It was necessary. It was the cycle of life. Cruelty was just as prevalent in humans as it was in vampires, and humans killed each other for less—petty reasons like money and jealousy. At least vampires sought blood to continue their existence.

"You two made a striking couple out there," Maxwell said. I flinched away as he turned to regard me, not wanting to be caught staring. "I could hardly take my eyes off you. You commanded the room."

"He makes it look easy," I said, shifting uncomfortably.

"He does. He's always been good at making things look effortless. It's one of the many reasons he will make an excellent duke."

"Don't sell yourself short. You put people at ease just by being yourself."

"Do you think so?"

I couldn't look at him, but I nodded in reply. If I looked at him, I wasn't sure I could resist telling him how he was his brother's superior in every way, and how fond I was of his company. I needed the darkness to cloak the emotions that threatened to bare themselves, so I pushed away from the wall and walked slowly down the stone steps into the garden below. Maxwell followed with light footfalls, but even without their telltale sounds, I would have felt his presence.

Tall hedges made the garden a crisscrossing maze of avenues, obscuring the light from the party as the music became fainter with every step. Thankfully, the moon was full enough overhead to provide sufficient light to maneuver by. A bat streaked by, and I wondered briefly if it was one of Vrykolakas's pets, sent to keep tabs on me.

"What do you want to do with your life, Lucian?" Maxwell asked after we'd been walking for a time. "Will you return home after the competition?"

I looked mock-offended. "You don't think I'll win? I hope I won't have need to return home."

"Ah, of course. Ambrose seems close to making a decision."

I blinked, glancing at him briefly before looking away. Was that jealousy I detected in his voice? Bitterness? "I don't want to get ahead of myself."

"Oh, I didn't say you were the frontrunner."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh? I suppose that honor falls to … Cecelia?"

"I doubt Father would allow that after last night. He doesn't tolerate weakness." He shook his head. "I do apologize for what happened in there with Thomas. You didn't deserve that. Thomas isn't in his right mind."

"I know." I looked around the path at the hedges we passed, hoping to find inspiration to change the subject. "What will you do after Ambrose makes his decision? Look for your own match?"

Maxwell cleared his throat, his voice returning thicker than before. "I suppose I'll have no choice."

I thought of Maxwell dancing with more men and women, laughing at their jokes rather than mine. How I wished things could be different.

I closed my eyes. There it was, of course. Cecelia had been right about how I was fooling myself. But I had to put duty over what I felt. This would be a passing moment in my immortal life. A time that would likely fill me with regret.

I stopped abruptly, turning to Maxwell, seized by a sudden impulse. What if I threw myself into his arms right now? What if I kissed him right here, right now, gods damn the consequences?

Muffled voices carried to us across the garden, interrupting my thoughts. One voice was briefly raised, as if in anger. I sent Maxwell a questioning look and he shrugged, following as I skulked from shadow to shadow, the voices growing closer the further into the garden we ventured.

"He was clearly not ready for society. You should have known better," a voice I recognized said, full of accusation.

I paused at a large hedge and pushed aside some branches carefully to see Ambrose standing with arms crossed, jaw set, as he stared down his nose at a man in a beige suit sitting on a bench.

"You're right," the man agreed, shrugging. "I don't think anyone who witnessed that spectacle would say that he's recovered. We miscalculated. He seemed to be doing so well."

Ambrose scoffed. "The trauma was practically radiating off him tonight. How could you have missed that?"

The man sat forward. "Don't tell me he didn't seem fine most of the night. You were excited to have him here."

Ambrose hesitated. "He was triggered, clearly. Lucian resembled his captor. But we can't have him going off like that in public. Give him another month of quiet, at the very least."

"I quite agree." The man eyed Ambrose for a moment. "Another feather in your cap."

"Well, this isn't exactly your first blunder, is it? Your men left my brother bleeding, for Christ's sake."

I stiffened. His men? Was Ambrose referring to the blood on Emmett's mattress? Was this man involved in Emmett's disappearance? I squinted. What exactly was going on here? And what was Ambrose's involvement? My eyes widened as I realized the implications. This man … his men were hunters. He was connected to them. I stared at him, memorizing his features.

"Didn't leave them much choice, did he?" the man returned. "If it hadn't been—"

A branch snapped near my ear and I swiveled my head to glare at Maxwell, who winced.

I looked up to find Ambrose and his co-conspirator regarding each other, then approaching where Maxwell and I hid. I gestured to Maxwell to follow my steps, and we snuck away soundlessly.

I took us on a circuitous path away from Ambrose so that we wouldn't be followed easily, mind whirring with what we'd just overheard.

"Did that sound like what I think it sounded like?" Maxwell asked softly, hands stuffed into his pockets beside me. His eyes watched the path at his feet.

I licked my lips. "I'm afraid it did sound … damning."

"If Ambrose wasn't directly involved in Emmett's kidnapping, he was at least aware of the circumstances surrounding it. Why has he been acting ignorant of it? He knows how worried I've been." He shook his head. "Does he know where Emmett is now, or did he escape their clutches? And why was it necessary at all?"

I hesitated. "Isabel saw him being comforted by a woman. I keep coming back to that. Why wouldn't he confide in Isabel, unless it was something that required delicacy?"

"Delicacy?"

"Yes. Perhaps removing Emmett from Hemlock Manor had to do with avoiding a scandal."

"A scandal? What do you suspect?" Maxwell breathed in sharply. "An elopement?"

"That wouldn't be terribly surprising. Isabel's going to point the woman out to me. If she was aiding Emmett and a mutual acquaintance in something that could have been ruinous, I understand your brother's extreme measures, even if he did hire undesirables to remedy the matter."

Maxwell grunted. "Truly? You're taking his side? Did you see the blood on that mattress? They didn't quietly sneak off with him into the night."

"Something clearly went wrong. Perhaps your brother was able to fend them off while they tried to chloroform him? It didn't sound like Ambrose was happy with the circumstances. Someone was clearly too free with their dagger."

"I'm glad Emmett gave them hell," Maxwell muttered, shaking his head. "I hope he managed to elude them in the end." His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed. I could feel the fury radiating from him, and I couldn't blame him. Ambrose had needlessly made Maxwell imagine the worst. And if Emmett was hurt, and in hiding, it was due to Ambrose's scheming.

Why was nothing straightforward in the human world? Vampires were much less tedious. Want. Take. It was that simple. Here, it was a convoluted mess of propriety and etiquette.

"But wait." Maxwell cocked his head. "If the kidnappers were only after Emmett, why did they attempt to take me?"

I blinked. I wasn't sure how I'd overlooked that detail. "Perhaps they simply wanted to lure him out of hiding?"

Maxwell looked skeptical.

A scream pierced the night.

I stilled mid-stride, meeting Maxwell's gaze as we listened, as if we'd imagined the sound. But then it came again, and it was close.

"Is that Isabel?" Maxwell asked, frowning.

I sprinted in the direction of the scream, across an aisle of hedges, trampling over manicured bushes and tangles of roses, thorns scratching me in my haste.

"Wait for me," Maxwell protested, bumbling into a shrub and cursing. He was too slow, and I didn't heed his request. Who knew what sort of danger Isabel was in? A few days ago, I would have relished the idea of the girl being in trouble, but she'd earned my grudging respect since then.

A snarling greeted me as I pushed past a lilac bush to find Isabel yanking her dress from the teeth of a large gray wolf. Isabel was pale and wide-eyed as she desperately pulled on the fabric to free herself from the beast.

At my approach, the wolf let go, turning its bared teeth on me instead. Isabel didn't waste a moment to whirl in the opposite direction and run.

I met the eyes of the wolf, an intelligence flickering in their depths, and understood at once that this was no ordinary wolf. This was a vampire.

"Raven," I snorted, shaking my head. "You sure are persistent." Then I brightened, a beam of pride rushing through me. "And you finally transformed? Good on you. I told you that you were close."

I was met with a growl in response.

"Hey, I was as frustrated as you with the slow progress," I grumbled, snatching up a branch that lay at my feet. It wasn't particularly menacing, but it would be something to keep between myself and Raven as she began to lope around me, looking for a weakness in my defenses. I hefted the branch in my hand and grinned, trying to intimidate the vampire, knowing she could overtake me with little effort if she'd learned anything from our encounter on Old Mill Road. I held up the branch. "Wood," I said, pointedly. "I won't miss my mark this time. You can leave now if you'd rather not test me."

Raven snapped her jaws as Maxwell caught up to me, stopping short, eyes going wide. I threw an arm out to keep him back, and Raven seized the moment to attack. Heavy paws shoved me to the ground, the wolf's warm breath greeting my cheek briefly before it set its sights on Maxwell, bounding for him with her jaw outstretched.

"Oh, no, you don't," I grunted, throwing the branch at Raven's back as she nearly snapped her teeth over Maxwell's arm. The wolf's teeth only closed on air as her aim was thrown off by the projectile that sent her stumbling. I rolled onto my feet, finding that Maxwell had put himself between me and the vampire as she took a moment to orient herself.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, shoving him aside.

"I'm quite capable," Maxwell protested, elbowing me back. He wielded the branch I had thrown at Raven, holding it aloft like a fencing sword. I stared at his back, his chin lifted in defiance. He was glorious. I commended his bravery, my heart soaring in response to how easily it came to him to put his own life in danger to protect me. But his was a foolish courage.

I sidestepped Maxwell, disarming him with a few flicks of my wrist, before bracing myself to face Raven once more.

Maxwell made a sound of protest at my back, but I ignored it, standing my ground before the vampire and ensuring that she would have to face me before she had any chance of harming Maxwell.

Raven's eyes were calculating, flickering between me and Maxwell. Branches snapped behind us as Isabel continued her escape, drawing Raven's attention once more. She looked back in that direction.

"It's me you want," I told her. "I'm right here."

Raven seemed to smile in response. That had been the wrong thing to say. It conveyed my regard for these humans.

"No!" I shouted, rushing at the wolf as she leapt into the sky and gracefully transformed into a vampire bat in a fluid motion even I was impressed with. I reached out a hand, but the bat easily dodged my clumsy attempts.

With a chattering noise that seemed a combination of triumph and taunt, the bat slipped into the night in pursuit of Isabel.

"Lucian," Maxwell gasped.

"Stay here," I barked, launching myself back toward the house, hoping I could reach Isabel in time to save her from Raven. Maxwell clearly didn't heed my warning, as I heard him rush down a parallel path. The route I'd chosen was full of obstacles. I ran around a row of hedges, leapt over inconvenient bushes, and circumvented stone walls and shrubs. I was taking far too long. If Isabel could stay quiet and hidden, then perhaps she stood a chance, but the human instinct to bolt to safety was hard to overcome.

Isabel screamed again, the sound a pleading that rang through my ears. I had to be faster.

I stumbled into a shrub in my haste, wasting precious seconds disentangling myself before the house came into view, the golden glow of the ballroom sending a warm promise of safety cutting through the inky night.

My chest heaved as I gazed around, trying to hear over the sound of my labored breathing. Where were they? Had Isabel made it to safety?

"Lucian! Are you hurt?"

I glanced back to find Ambrose jogging toward me. Sweat clung to his forehead, as if he too had been running, following the sound of Isabel's distress.

"No. It's Isabel. The vampire from Hale's Corner is here."

"Vampire," Ambrose echoed, eyes hardening as he glared into the night.

"Over here!" Maxwell's voice called.

I cursed him for disobeying my orders, but charged toward his voice, Ambrose at my heels.

At the bottom of the stairs leading up to the patio, Maxwell was kneeling in the dark. He crouched over a form, listless and still.

I came to a halt and drew in a sharp breath as I made out Isabel crumpled awkwardly beneath him.

Ambrose met my eyes, swallowing hard, before he approached, bending down for a closer look. I glimpsed her over his shoulder, slim arms outstretched as if pleading with some unseen force, still seeking the sanctuary of the ballroom, just at the top of the staircase, where the sound of laughter and music spilled into the dark of night.

Her neck was bloody, two gouges in her pale flesh implicating a vampire.

Her eyes stared up at the stars, unseeing.