be standing here. As it was, her legs felt a bit weak beneath her. The buzzing in her temples was increasing, distracting her like a swarm of gnats circling her ears.
Andreas, I think I...I could really use a drink now.
Of course. Reichen offered her his arm and she gladly took it. Come, I'll present you to the gathering and make sure you have whatever you like.
Tegan waited until they were gone before he descended from the upper floor landing of the mansion. He took the stairs, even though he could have just as easily vaulted over the side of the carved mahogany railing to the marble foyer three floors below.
After a day of being cooped up in the mansion awaiting nightfall, he'd been on his way out to hunt for blood and Rogues when the sound of Elise's voice stopped him in his tracks upstairs. He peered over just in time to see Reichen sweep in on her, full of his usual dark charm as he kissed Elise's hand for the second time since meeting her. He'd called her exquisite and by God, she was.
The indigo dress she wore hugged her petite figure in all the right places, an architectural wonder of crisscrossing silk layers and flowing, filmy skirts. Her bare shoulders and short blond hair accentuated the graceful line of her throat, which drew Tegan's eye like a beacon. Her pulse ticked frantically below her ear, a beat that echoed in his own veins, even now that she was gone from view.
Damn, he needed to feed.
The sooner the better.
Garbed in combat gear, Tegan headed straight for the mansion's front vestibule, eager to get the fuck out of the place. He strode past the wide-open double doors of the grand ballroom, ignoring the soaring whine of the string quartet and the chaotic buzz of the many conversations underway inside the reception.
He tried to ignore the sight of Elise on Reichen's arm as the suave German brought her before the crowd of their peers. She looked so elegant and refined amid the glitter of the gathering, fitting in perfectly with the Darkhavens' elite.
This was her world; there could be no mistaking that fact now that he saw her enveloped within it. She belonged here, and his place was out on the streets, staining his hands with the blood of his enemies.
Yeah, he thought, feeling a surge of anger run through him. He belonged anywhere but here. As she strolled farther into the ballroom on Reichen's arm, Elise scanned the crowd of fifty or more, recognizing several faces from events she'd attended with Quentin in the past. Everyone was staring at her--had been since the instant she entered the room. Conversations paused, heads turned. The string quartet played on near the other side of the room, falling into a soft whisper of music as Andreas Reichen presented her to the gathering.
He introduced her to one person after another, a dizzying line of names and faces that eventually began to blur together in her mind. She accepted the offers of condolence for Quentin's passing and listened with not a little pride as many of the area's Enforcement Agency representatives recounted their dealings with her respected mate. More than one person asked about the nature of her business in Berlin, but she dodged the questions as artfully as she could. It didn't seem prudent to discuss the Order's business in such a public arena, and it would be next to impossible to mention her association with the warriors without explaining how she'd come to know them in the first place.
How shocked and appalled would these politic Darkhaven males be to learn that she had been out on Boston's streets hunting Minions just a few days before?
Some rebellious part of her almost wished she could blurt that truth out, if only to watch the stuffy civilians balk. Instead, Elise merely sipped the wine Reichen had fetched for her soon after they arrived, her attention only partially focused on the Enforcement Agent who had been bending her ear for about fifteen minutes straight.
Looking slightly down his aquiline nose at her, the imposing blond vampire was quick to impress upon her how he had served the Agency most of his life--racking up more than a hundred years of self-aggrandizing war stories that he seemed compelled to describe to her in great detail. She nodded along and smiled at the appropriate moments, wondering how long it would take her to hit the bottom of her wineglass.