“I know what you saw back there, but I assure you, I remained quite in control,” Claude says.
“You looked like you wanted to devour her whole,” Benjamin says.
“But I did not,” Claude says, not denying it. When Benjamin remains implacable, he turns to me. “Please, Nora,” he says.
My mouth goes dry as I stare into those long-lashed eyes, so blue I could drown in them. My heart skips a beat as I realize I want to say yes. I want to feel that sharp-edged kiss on my wrist again—or on the curve of my neck. I can picture myself swooning against him as he drinks my lifeblood, his strong arms cradling me…
And that terrifies me.
“No,” I say. “I trust my patron’s guidance.”
Claude stares at me. But he doesn’t try to press me like he did Benjamin. Instead he nods stiffly, turns, and walks to the nearest window, staring out at the grounds with an expression like a storm cloud. Sulking again, but at least he’s doing it away from me.
I let out a small, shaky breath.
Benjamin touches the small of my back. “Something wrong?”
“No. Nothing. I just…” Almost lost sight of what I’m here for. This isn’t some fairy tale, and I meant what I said to Benjamin:not an artist.I don’t need that kind of flighty dramaticism right now. I need someone steady and reliable, who will be on thesame page as I am about this being a practical exchange of services. “I’d like to meet some other potential patrons, please.”
Anyone but him,I remind myself, but it takes every ounce of willpower in my body to resist looking over my shoulder at him as I walk away.
* * *
At the very least, Claude’s attention seems to have broken down whatever barrier made me unapproachable. Soon enough, a pretty, dark-skinned woman with a Solomon moth earring comes asking after my blood card. But after a few minutes of conversation about my background and my tasting notes, I notice she keeps glancing off to the side, her brow creased. I follow her gaze to see Claude standing nearby, leaning against the wall, watching us without making any attempt to disguise either his interest or his dour expression.
The woman excuses herself shortly thereafter, and I suppress a sigh. Benjamin leads me to the other side of the ballroom to talk to a pair of Celeste vampires. They seem more interested in hearing about my future studies than my blood, yet again, I notice their attention drifting after a few minutes. I turn around and see Claude, once more hovering nearby, now sitting on a chaise with one hand propping his chin up and his blue eyes locked on me.
The Celeste vampires soon find an excuse to leave us. Without requesting a slot on my blood card, of course. It’s still entirely empty except for Claude’s name claiming the first line, and we have mere minutes until I’m supposed to be giving blood for the second time tonight. The night is still young, but I’m hyperaware that I have a limited amount of time tofind a potential patron, which will be especially hard given my particular needs.
I grit my teeth, looking up at Benjamin. “How do I get rid of him?”
Benjamin grimaces and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I hate to leave you, but perhaps if I try approaching some potential patrons without you to make arrangements…”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “Please do. I insist.”
“You’re certain you’ll be fine?”
“Yes. I’ll stay right here.” Surely he won’t dare to do anything in full view of the ballroom.
Benjamin looks torn, but after a moment, he nods and steps into the crowd.
Leaving me with Claude. Thereisan entire ballroom of people nearby, and the chaise he’s chosen is a few yards away, but somehow it still feels as though the two of us are alone.
I know I should ignore him. But I can’t help myself.
“Claude,” I hiss.
He stares up at the ceiling.
“Lord Claude de Vulpe,” I say, louder.
He blinks slowly and lazily, like a cat, one leg swinging idly along the side of the chaise.
“Stop pretending you can’t hear me!”
He still doesn’t look over, but the corners of his lips curl subtly upward.
Burning with indignation, I consider tossing my blood card at him, but realize Benjamin took it with him to convince other patrons of my merits. Instead, I dig into my purse and grab the first thing I can find—a handkerchief. I ball it up and lob it at Claude.
