‘What do you care? I’m fine.’ I’m not fine. I’m furious. Stella and her friends are all staring at us. Kyle angles his body so they can’t see me anymore. I can smell his violet scent, remember how his body felt against mine in the dark hallway. He’s even more flawless close up, silver eyes a shimmer between dark lashes.
‘I care,’ he breathes, ‘because it’s my job. So don’t give them the satisfaction.’ He inclines his head slightly, eyes darting to one side.
‘What?’
‘You’re Emelia Raven. You’re royalty. The heir to?—’
‘I don’t need you to tell me what I am,’ I hiss.
‘Good.’ He grins, a flash of brightness in the dim light. He has dimples. Of course he does. ‘So start acting like it. I know this is a drag, you don’t want to be here?—’
‘You don’t knowanything,’ I grind out the word, ‘about me.’
‘I know what I see,’ he says. ‘So, we have a choice here.’
‘We do?’ Part of me, despite the fact I can’t stand him, feels drawn in. Beneath his violet vampire smell is something else, a fresh scent like green leaves. I consider holding my breath. Damn.
‘Yeah. You can smile, pretend you’re enjoying yourself, and forget about them—’ he grabs a glass from a passing waiter with a tray, giving it to me ‘—or we call the car and go home.’
I stare at him.
‘Make your choice. I have a job to do, and so do you. But we can’t do it if you’re going to spend the evening hiding in a corner.’
My mouth drops open in outrage. The drink is cold against my fingers, bubbles in the liquid popping like tiny sparks. I don’t want to go home, I realise. Despite the fact I didn’t want to come here, going home feels, somehow, like failure. I take a sip, cool sting at my throat, warmth spreading in my stomach. Then I smile. It’s forced, at first. I grit my teeth. I’m not sure who I’m angry with anymore. I take another sip. More bubbles, more warmth. Screw them. I’m Emelia Raven. I’m?—
‘I think we should dance.’
My heart sinks.
Vampires, as in everything else they do, are beautiful when they dance. Their movements flow, their bodies undulating like serpents. There’s a legend of a woman, Salome, who danced for a king long ago. Allegedly she was from one of the original families, of the Scorpion line. She did end up taking someone’s head, if I remember right, so there might be something to the story. The dance floor here is no different, vampires swaying and twisting to the beat, human blood dancers dressed to thrill, necks and inner thighs and wrists exposed, the veins over their hearts highlighted with glitter, an invitation to drink. They’re beautiful too, their exposed flesh taut and muscled.
And then there’s me. ‘Dance? I’d rather sit down.’ I scan the packed booths doubtfully.
Kyle shakes his head. ‘No. If I have to be here, we can at least try and have fun. We dance, we have a drink, and then we go. Or are you scared?’ He says it like a challenge, scornfully, but something else flickers in his silver eyes.
Is he insane? I amraging. I down the rest of my drink. I shrug his hand off my arm and follow him into the writhing throng.
The music is fast, a human song from before the Rising. Stella is still watching me, whispering to her friends, all of them laughing. Screw them. I start to dance, trying to twist my body the way vampires do, my anger fading as the songs change, enjoying the strangeness of dancing in a crowd, rather than alone in the library at home. Then the beat slows. Vampires start swaying, some moving fast, in a blur, as though listening to music no one else can hear, while others are wrapped around each other. Blood dancers move through the crowd, trailing scented wrists past potential customers. A slender dark-skinned woman is pulled into a vampire’s embrace, his fangs dropping as his mouth closes on her neck. Kyle moves closer, leaning in. I hold my breath.
‘Ready for a drink?’
I nod, annoyed that I’m disappointed, that part of me wanted him to pull me close. What the hell is wrong with me? It must just be a reaction to being out alone, to being vulnerable. Because I can’t stand him. Yet I shiver when he takes my hand, pulling me through the crowd towards the bar area.
I stop walking.
He doesn’t.
Oh gods. In several cages behind the long leather bar, there are humans. Men, women, all different sizes and colours. Mostly naked, other than scraps of fabric covering their most private areas. Their skin glistens in the candlelight, their eyes staring dreamily into the distance. I’ve never seen anything like this.
Kyle leans on the polished wooden counter. I swallow, then go to stand next to him, trying to act as though this is all normal. But inside I’m shaking. I dart a glance at the caged humans, my heart pounding. Our Raven blood dancers, lithe and healthy, many from families who’ve worked for us for generations, seem a long way from these humans curled up behind metal bars. I wonder what they’ve done to be punished so.
One of the cages swings out, the young man inside sliding his arm through a metal hole. A vampire grabs it, biting down hard. Blood spatters onto the bar, close to us. I try not to flinch. The boy pulls his arm back, his cage rattling. The vampire lets go, gesturing and shouting. There’s blood on his mouth, and I smell sweat and violets. A huge vampire, twining tattoos along both exposed muscular arms, stands up from behind the bar. He gives something to the caged boy then turns to the customer, swinging out another cage with an older man in it, whose arm slides through the hole in the bars. The boy in the cage puts whatever the huge vampire gave him in his mouth, his eyes closing as he swallows.
‘Ira!’ calls Kyle.
The huge vampire turns. He grins, a curving scar up his cheek carving a white line in one dark eyebrow as he reaches to clasp Kyle’s hand. ‘Kyle! You made it out of the pits, then?’ His glacier-blue eyes come to rest on me. They widen, then flick back to Kyle. ‘Who is this you bring me?’
Kyle laughs. ‘She’s not for you. This is Emelia Raven.’ At this the dark eyebrows go way up, and Ira’s expression changes from avid to respectful.
