I rummage in the chest on the table next to me. ‘Here.’ I reach up, but I’m not quite tall enough.
‘Let me, my lady.’ Kyle takes it from me, his hand lingering slightly longer than it should, then hands it to my mother. My fingers tingle, my breath shorter.
‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘And some of those red moons, I think, Emelia.’
I pick several little red glass globes hanging from silver thread, delicate as bubbles. They’re a symbol of the Red Rising, our great triumph, when the four great vampire families worked together to take over the world in a single night. Destroying all power sources, overthrowing governments, decimating armies. I hand the globes to my mother who suspends them, carefully, from a cluster of slender branches. I pick up another, staring at it as I remember what Kyle said, about what Halloween means to humans. And how he felt, pressed against me in the costume room, how we almost?—
‘Emelia?’ My mother frowns down at me. ‘Are you all right? You’ve been distracted all evening.’
I usually love this time of year. My mother insists on me helping her with the final Halloween decorations, making sure each of the guest rooms are prepared, the hallways garlanded, carved and gilded skulls placed in alcoves, tiny twinkling pale lights strung through the trees outside. When I was younger, Halloween meant waking to piles of silk-wrapped presents, soft with velvet bows, and being allowed to attend the ball my parents hold every year, inviting friends and family from across the realm. It still holds magic, the long night of ghosts and costumes, a sense of the history of our kind.
But this year all I can think about is dancing and Kyle; I’m trying to remember how much he infuriates me even as I’m increasingly drawn to him. I need to remain focused on my plan to leave. Our dance the other night keeps playing through my mind, a swirl of silver and violets, the feel of his hands on me. It’s not helping that he’s still being nice. I suppose I have no one but myself to blame, my overtures obviously working too well. What I didn’t expect was my own response to him. But my mother is right. I am distracted. ‘Sorry. Guess I’m tired.’ I pass her the bauble.
‘And the red garland,’ she says. I look in the chest again, but can’t find it. I rummage around, tinsel slithering through my fingers.
‘It’s not there. I must have left it upstairs. I’ll get it.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ says Kyle. He winks at me. I look away.
‘I think we also left a box of decorations up there,’ my mother says. ‘Will you bring it for me?’
‘Of course, my lady.’
Kyle falls into step with me as I head up the stairs. I daren’t look at him. We find the box of decorations, left in an alcove, the ornate moulded arch curving above us like a wing. I bend to gather up the red garland. Kyle does so at the same time. Our hands touch, and our eyes meet.
I wait for him to pull away. But he doesn’t. His hands close over mine as we straighten up, his fingers tracing circles on my skin. I can’t stop my sharp intake of breath.
‘I enjoyed our dance yesterday,’ he murmurs. ‘I was hoping, perhaps we could do it again, later? Just the two of us.’ His voice deepens, sex sliding across every syllable.
I’m strangled. Unable to form words.
‘What?’ I finally manage to say. It’s a sliver of sound, a breath. Not going to win any prizes for eloquence. It feels like a last defence, a flimsy wall thrown up against whatever happens next.
He moves closer, backing me towards the wall of the alcove. ‘I know you enjoyed it. I could feel your heart beating, you know.’ His hand comes to my chest, resting lightly over the bird flutter of my heart.
‘Could you?’ I say, trying to be cool as a cucumber, as his smooth skin. But I’m blushing like a hot coal. I’m anythingbutcool.
‘A shame your mother came in when she did.’ The promise in his voice is unmistakeable.
I lean against the wall, an ache at the top of my thighs, the soft slither of tinsel in my hands.
His hand leaves my chest and he tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, his silver eyes on me, his full generous mouth relaxed. My lips part, my whole body tingling.
‘You have no idea who you could be,’ he murmurs, the words a caress. ‘A human, as ruler of Raven. Do you not realise what a difference you could make?’
We stare at each other. I can hardly breathe.
Then he leans in and kisses me.
I tense, surprise jolting me, the garland dropping from my slack fingers. ‘What indarknessdo you think you’re doing?’ I hiss in one last pathetic defence, even though my entire being is responding to his touch, demanding more more more.
He says nothing. Just leans in and kisses me again.
This time, I kiss him back.
My arms around his neck, his hands in my hair. Freedom flickers in my chest, wild like the night. I taste blood and violets, heat and darkness. I’m drowning in it.
Then it’s over. Kyle lifts his head, his hands held up. ‘I… I’m sorry.’
