Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

T he next twenty-four hours were nothing compared to what would follow them. Ambrose had called Dr. Greene after our meeting with Walt to run our attending the Halloween Gala by him—an idea he begrudgingly agreed to. As campus buzzed with excitement, decorations found their homes on buildings and lampposts, and Ambrose sorted our costumes with which we could blend in easily.

The plan was to remain in the thick of the crowd until past midnight as that was when the Rite was slated to begin.

Ambrose said they never missed a midnight, the deadline was almost as important to them as the doves themselves.

Walt, Dr. Greene, and Sam would be on the throngs with their eyes peeled and feelers out for any initiates who might not be fooled. Once safe, we would make our way home—hopefully without incident.

It seemed easy enough.

Or so I hoped.

I stood in Ambrose's bedroom, the lace curtain between my fingertips, and watched as the Autumn evening grew darker, colder. An eerie Halloween moon hung pregnant in the sky.

In the quiet peace of these moments, I could question if any of it had been real—if the society was really after me and my neck was truly on the threshold of the guillotine. It was easy to say otherwise in these normal pauses, to shake my head and release the tension from my shoulders.

But ultimately, Ambrose would return as he always did, with his jaw set hard and his temple twitching. He'd remind me just how real it all was and I would find myself floundering in despair once again.

The delicate lace fell from my fingers, tinged more yellow than white from his smoking habit and I twisted at the sound of his approach.

"I have your costume!" he called merrily from the stairs, though there was an odd sharpness to his tone that exposed just how stressed he was.

"I'm terrified," I joked, plopping onto his bed where he set the long, white box.

"You shouldn't be, I have excellent taste." Ambrose winked, adjusting his glasses. "Go on, open it. Let's see what you think."

With nervous fingers, I removed the lid from the box and gasped at the delicate fabric pooled within. "You didn't," I whispered. My fingers came over the white satin, trailing along its ripples.

"Oh, I did." He laughed, removing the garment by its small straps and dangling in in front of me. The setting sun caught in the fine rubies sewn in splatters down the front of the dress. It was fitted with a high slit on the right leg, and deep plunging neckline.

A smile spread, slow and bemused. "It's indecent and eerily how one might imagine a dove to look during the Rite. "

"Well, I'm nothing if not a sick bastard." Ambrose carefully set the gown on the bed and handed me the white domino mask which was also lined in tiny, stunning rubies. "You'll wear a ruby choker and white wings. It'll be poetic, absolutely fucking poetic."

"And you don't think they'll realize what you've done? It's a bit…conspicuous, isn't it?" I cautioned, crossing my legs.

"Come now, it wounds me to think you've such little faith in me." He crawled over me, taking a gentle bite of my collar bone. "Don't you know I'll keep you safe?"

"Yes," I breathed, dizzy with lust as his teeth nipped my skin.

"If you trust me, then why do you question me?" His nose skimmed up my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I'm not questioning you, I just—Oh!" His fingers slipped between my legs, and he drug his tongue over the sensitive spot behind my ear.

"Just what, Vivian?"

I couldn't focus on the words as he teased my clit through my trousers. It wasn't fair, how could I not be weary when it came to tonight? When my life hung very much in the balance of not only my own hands, but his as well.

Oh, but the relief from the worry was so nice.

"That's what I thought," Ambrose purred. "I'll be going as Romeo, it'll be romantic. A nod to our beloved Shakespeare."

He jumped up, leaving me cold and hungry in the absence of his body.

"Romeo," I asked, coming to prop on my elbows.

"Yes, of course." He pulled from his closet a garment bag which he unzipped to reveal a suit of armor and matching silver mask. "What do you think?"

I swooned back. "‘Give me my Romeo; and, when I shall die, take him and cut him into little stars ? —‘"

"Don't go quoting Shakespeare in my bed, Miss Blackfield. That's a good way to find yourself thoroughly fucked." Ambrose notched my legs wide with his knee as his hands caressed down my sides.

I giggled. "I can't help myself, I have this Shakespeare professor who spills forth stanzas like honey."

"Like honey?" He rumbled his pleasure as he came to his knees. "I don't know that I've ever been likened to the nectar of the gods before and that is indeed a compliment."

"You are an exceptional professor, Ambrose. But more than that, you're an exceptional mind. And the way you read his work is…is like listening to it in the way it's intended. It's addicting, it's all consuming. I'll never tire of it," I admitted, hooking my legs onto his shoulders.

"What have I done in this lifetime to deserve you?" His fingers ran through the tangles of my hair.

I scoffed. "Nothing good, I promise."

We left for the Gala from the library, trying to mitigate any chance White Dove might have at recognizing us in our costumes.

"Do you think it will work?" I asked, brushing the back of my hand against Ambrose's as a group of students passed, fretting about how much time they had to get ready.

"I am confident, yes. I'm looking forward to it being over with, to living out our quiet mornings at Oakwood House without worrying for your safety."

I twisted to face him, my chest alight with kisses of cautious excitement. "What? "

He chuckled, steel eyes the same color as his domino mask. "I'm looking forward to our mornings going back to normal afterward. Of waking you up in delicious, indecent ways." He bumped into me, keeping it casual though his eyes burned with need.

I sucked in a sharp, cold breath, keeping my eyes forward. The walk thickened with traffic the nearer we grew to the hall which had been selected for the Gala. "You want me to stay with you? After the Rite?"

"I want you to stay with me always." Ambrose wound his pinky around mine, giving a squeeze as if to punctuate his meaning.

"You're sure?" Tears built behind my eyes without permission at his confession. How could he want that? He, who was so much older, so much more capable of…everything. Who could have anyone—anyone at all and yet he was here, with me. Saving my life, wanting to be with me .

Ambrose took my hand, winding my arm through his. "Why wouldn't I be? You're wonderful and I adore you. I love you."

"Don't say that," I hissed. A knot of emotion built rapidly in my throat, choking me.

"And why not?" He slowed our pace, stepping to the side so the others could continue toward the party.

"Because of all of those in the world, I must be the most difficult to love. Out of everyone in my life, no one has once stayed long enough, no one has tolerated me enough to really love me. Like I'm incapable of even being loved." Tears spilled against my will, catching on the mask and dammit I was going to ruin my make up.

Maybe it would be a blessing to be caught. Maybe I wouldn't be such a burden anymore.

"That's not true and you know it," Ambrose growled. He cupped my face, forcing my eyes to meet his. "Your parents' treatment of you is not a reflection of you, Vivian. It is a reflection of them."

I scoffed. If I spoke, there would be no holding it together now, my chest was too tight, teetering too close to the edge of collapse.

"I understand you've kept yourself at arm's length when it comes to friendships, but that's only because of the hurt you carry in your heart," Ambrose continued. "Look at Walt, he's risking his life because he loves you. The moment I called on him he was more than adamant to be involved, to keep you safe because you are worth it. And what about Sam, Vivian? Samantha, who is quite literally putting her life on the line for you. They're doing this because they love you, because you are worthy of it."

His words came crashing down, tearing from my heart the fragile wall I'd built to keep it safe. I was lain bare, hurting and lonely and desperate for some form of real love, real affection. Gone was the playfulness of earlier, there existed now only my pain, my anxiety.

"Look at me , I wanted you before I knew what they were planning. I wanted you the moment I saw you because there is something so beautiful within you, so hopelessly loveable and desirable and honorable that I had to covet it for my own and break every moral promise I've made as an instructor. ‘Doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.' "

As I peered up into his face, watched the truth come pouring from his eyes and lips, I trusted for just that moment that he was right.

"Ambrose," I sniffled. He drug his thumb over my quivering lip. " I lo?—"

"WHOOOOOO!" Someone hooted from nearby and a chorus of laughter burst around them. He took my arm gently, smiling from beneath his mask.

"Come. It's just ahead."

I tugged my shawl tighter over my arms to shield from the breeze brushing up against us like a demanding lover—forceful and rough.

The dining hall stood looming, its dark stone face only broken apart by the bronze glow of its windows and yawning mouth. We were not the only ones dressed for the part—students wore a myriad of costumes. From elegant pieces with fine masks to more revealing corsets and animal ears to classics like sheet ghosts—they were all there and splattered together in a frenzy of excitement.

No one stood at the doors to welcome us, we merely slipped in with the throng of students. The hall had been moved around, altered to accommodate dancing. In the main room where tables once stood, there was nothing but students and decorations—fluffy cobwebs and draping net, streamers and spiders, skulls and Jack O'Lanterns. The lights fell low and took on a purple hue, catching a mirrored ball in the center of the 1800s ceiling. Along the walls stood food tables and punch bowls, and unhappy chaperons from the looks of their scowling faces.

"This is wild!" I called over the thumping music, music so loud it seeped into your bones and beat with your heart. I hooked my arms tighter over Ambrose's. He was nearly unrecognizable in his suit of armor, which I supposed was the point.

Yet, he was no less handsome.

Warm breath found my ear. "I have only been to these things as a teacher, never a participant. Will you dance with me?"

"Can you even dance, old man?"

"I think you know the answer to that." He nipped my earlobe.

I smiled, allowing him to lead me into the center of the dance floor where bodies swayed to some obscene sex song. My wings, white and feathered, kept the other dancers at bay while we moved together, and it was a rush to be able to touch him so plainly without anyone knowing who we were.

I could kiss him, could allow his hands to linger where they otherwise shouldn't and no one would know. They would only assume we were students, lovers just the same as the rest of them. The thrill sent my lips to his, let my tongue dance longer, let my hands get greedy while the heat blossomed low in my belly.

"Someone's enjoying her freedom," he murmured after I released him to grind against him. He was wolf like and god, that only made me hungrier.

"It's insane how badly I need you right now," I admitted with butterflies in my chest. "We never get to be so public and it's intoxicating!" I threw my head back with a laugh, let him spin us to the beat.

"It is, isn't it?" Ambrose's hand squeezed the flesh of my ass, and the sensation was only heightened from the satin fabric of the dress. "What I wouldn't give to be so out with you every day."

My hips moved with his as the music switched, a spooky classic that had everyone joining in with choreography.

And we just laughed. We danced, we kissed, we made merry and the weight of the night, of our conversation earlier, it all seemed miles away.

It was ages before I saw Walt in the corner, dressed as Michael Meyers—mask and all. He was just as creepy as his slasher film counterpart, unmoving and unblinking. Not long after Walt's jump scare, Sam flounced by in her fairy costume offering a wink and blown kiss before she disappeared behind an exceptionally tall Edward Scissorhands.

We had fun . Hours felt like mere minutes and the night ticked on, song after song, dance after dance. We didn't dare move from the center of the floor and it was invigorating. I'd never had so much fun in my life. Ambrose's humor, his sweet smile, his loving hands had my cheeks burning from constant grins.

I never wanted it to end.