Crimson Born - Amy Patrick Page 0,58

over some of the bastion’s rougher stone flooring on the way to the ballroom.

“That’s a Marchesa, you know,” she’d said.

I’d nodded obediently, though I’d had no idea who or what a Marchesa was.

The Bastion itself looked more magical than I’d ever seen it. An orchestra to one side of the ballroom filled the air with exquisite music, making me feel like I’d stepped out of the real world and into a movie—or a dream.

Imogen had obviously kept her worker bees very busy hanging new lanterns and lighting candles throughout the cavern.

It had probably never been so brightly lit, but some dark corners and alcoves remained. That was, no doubt, by design. Quite a few couples were taking advantage of those spaces for private conversations—and private liaisons—hidden for the most part from the crowd.

I was jealous of them.

Kissing Reece last night had been everything I’d ever dreamed it would be. And yet he insisted it should never have happened.

And wouldn’t be repeated.

A depressing thought considering he was the only male I was interested in. Even more depressing... he would take a vow tomorrow night that would ensure we could never be together.

Speak of the devil.

Reece stepped into the ballroom and surveyed it, moving his head slowly side to side in a scan of the crowd.

He wore the Bloodbound’s dress uniform tonight—a high-collared velveteen swallowtail blazer with an embossed Victorian pattern around the sleeves and lapels. The deep red formal jacket was worn over slim black trousers and knee-high black boots. His dark hair gleamed like polished onyx.

I wanted him.

I could swear he wanted me. And yet he behaved like the wild fox I’d attempted to turn into a pet when I was nine.

Despite my father’s warnings that it was hopeless, I’d spent hours upon hours, day after day, sitting on the dirt floor of its pen, trying to lure it to come close with slivers of raw meat in my open palm.

Reece’s visual search landed on me, and he wore the same sort of expression—hunger tainted by fear.

His gaze flickered over me, taking in the new dress that bared my shoulders and highlighted my cleavage, the upswept hairdo that exposed my neck.

For a moment, my stomach flipped with excitement and anticipation. But just like that wild creature, he made no move to approach me. His eyes held as much trepidation as longing, and just like my little fox, I felt him slipping away.

After a few days of trying to tame my new pet, I’d gone out to the pen and found it empty. The fox had dug under the fencing and escaped, never to be seen again.

For weeks, I’d been inconsolable and furious with my mother when she’d tried to explain that some creatures simply could not be tamed.

But I was no longer a little girl who believed that if she just wanted something enough, it would come true. I’d given Reece multiple chances to explore the possibility of a relationship with me. He knew where I stood.

And in spite of kissing me last night in the maze, he’d told me where he stood.

Several times.

It was high time I started listening.

This was my last night at the Bastion. I would have fun tonight if it killed me. I would drink and dance and not stare at Reece in his dress uniform.

Tomorrow night I would walk away with some good memories of this place and its inhabitants.

When I left for Washington D.C. with Kelly and Heather, I wouldn’t be coming back. It would be too painful to see Reece all the time and not be able to be with him. Moreover, I knew I didn’t belong here.

Turning to my friends, who stood with me on the mezzanine of the ballroom space, I said, “Shall we go locate some dance partners?”

“Heck yeah,” Heather said with a gleam in her eye. “I haven’t had a new partner in at least a week, and these guys look absolutely yummy in tuxes.”

Smiling, Kelly looked out over the glittering assembly. “This almost makes up for missing my senior prom. Let’s go.”

We descended the winding ramp to the ballroom floor, speaking with people we knew along the way. There was a beverage fountain in one corner of the room, and we each took a glass from the table and filled it with the festive bubbly blend of champagne and blood.

It was heavy on the blood and light on the champagne, as we didn’t have functioning livers. That meant the alcohol went right into the bloodstream and circulated quickly