Though his velvety voice was smooth and held no undertones of danger, the chilling fingers of unease coasted down her spine. Normally, she might not be so apprehensive, but she was in exceptionally close company with a vampire.
Caelian glanced up at him, not at all surprised to find his gray eyes focused on her—the flecks of gold around his pupils danced in the firelight. “And what’s that?”
Lothaire offered her an easy, charming smile. “Dancing.”
Oh.
She thought for sure he was going to imply something sexual in nature, as most vampires were known to be exemplary in the art of seduction. And part of her was slightly worried he might suggest biting her as a form of distraction. Either way, she was grateful his response was something as straightforward and enjoyable as dancing.
They were just outside the walls of the castle, and in the distance, the village of Brackroth illuminated the valley at the base of the mountains. Lanterns, bonfires, and candles burned brightly in the stretch of land separating the village from the castle, warding off the mist of the night, the brilliant flames welcoming the arrival of the new moon’s husk. A band of musicians was gathered near the largest bonfire, where plumes of smoke curled into the air, and the scent of sweetened, woodsy earth lingered. The beat of the music wasn’t exactly jovial, nor was it melancholy. Instead, it was a sensual rise and fall of notes, harmonious and moving all at once.
Caelian tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, debating. “But no one else is dancing.”
There were plenty of people milling about, some of them drinking, most of them laughing. Yet every set of eyes continuously glanced in their direction, tracking their movements.
Lothaire’s warm chuckle was pleasantly soothing, and the tightly coiled tension wrapped around each one of her muscles slowly began to unwind. “Then let us be the first.”
He guided her toward a damp field, where tiny white flowers sprouted underfoot, where the ground was soft and the musicwas flowing. His cool hand captured her elbow, gliding over the length of her arm all the way to her wrist until his fingers closed around her own. Lothaire twirled her into a small circle, then pulled her back into him, her breasts pressed firmly against his solid chest as his other hand settled comfortably on the small of her back.
“Forgive me, Elder Lothaire.” Caelian cast a glance over one shoulder, gently placing her hand upon his broad shoulder. Kjeld was nowhere to be found. A pity, as she would dearly love to see his face once he found her dancing in the arms of a vampire. She returned her attention to Lothaire. “I’m afraid I don’t know the steps.”
He clicked his tongue, leading her into the dance. “Nonsense. As a lady of Aeramere, I am sure you are quick to learn. And please, call me Lothaire.”
“Very well.” She dipped her head in acknowledgement, her gaze shooting up to his with well-practiced purpose. Fluttering her lashes, she lazily trailed the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip, drawing his sharp focus to her mouth. “Lothaire.”
Caelian watched as his eyes expanded the moment she said his given name. They darkened. Heated. Filled with an emotion she recognized all too well.
Desire.
She took great joy in the fact that she could still elicit such a reaction from a male. The lords of Aeramere hardly paid her any attention, mostly because she’d withered away like a decrepit wallflower. She’d been so aggrieved over the loss of her magic, so despairing of Kjeld’s outright rejection of her, that she’d let herself waste away. She’d been glossed over at balls and dances, blending into the background like faded floral wallpaper.
But no more.
Caelian would step back into her starlight, and she would own it.
Starting with the dashing, if not ethereally good-looking, Lothaire.
Melting into his lead, she allowed him to twirl her through the field. He was right, of course, she easily matched his every step, for this dance was much like a waltz. Sweeping movements followed by decadent spins in three quarters time. They moved with graceful elegance, gliding through flowers and mist, and Caelian leaned into the swell of music, allowing it to carry her. It had been so long since she’d participated in a proper dance and was not left to merely tap her foot in time to the rhythm near an abandoned punch table. Lothaire’s hand moved higher, splaying against her lower back, and she arched, angling her head toward her shoulder as he dipped her so low the strands of her hair grazed the ground.
“I knew you would be an incredible dancer.” Lothaire eased her up, his mouth skimming the shell of her ear. “But you are so much more, a most magnificent creature.”
Her cheeks flooded with warmth, but unexpected heat pooled elsewhere as well.
“Tell me, what’s an alluring starlit beauty like yourself doing in the roughened bleak of Brackroth?” His charm was thick, and every layer coated her skin like exquisite silk. She softened in his arms as the music slowed, the switch in tempo as smooth as the changing of seasons. Slowly, other couples joined them in the field, their twirls and turns all slow and methodical, like dancing underwater.
“I wasn’t given much of a choice.” She skimmed their surroundings, the blazing fires dousing the world around them in shadows. “It was my duty as a lady of House Celestine to accompany General Holtstrom to Brackroth in case he needed assistance with courtly matters and decorum.”
A hollow sigh slipped between her lips. “Though it would seem he is doing just fine without me.”
Lothaire scoffed, his prominent jaw clenching. “His loss is my gain.”
“Your flattery is most appreciated.” They swayed into one another as the music grew more languid. Caelian peeked over his shoulder and realized that even though others had joined them in dancing, they remained apart. “And what is a powerful vampire like yourself doing dancing in a field of bonfires with a female you’ve only just met?”
Laughter rumbled through his chest. “What makes you think I’m powerful?”
She smirked up at him. “I’m assuming you’re an elder for a reason.”
“Quite right you are, love.” His thumb grazed her knuckles as he maneuvered her closer, so close she could feel his heartbeat. Except he didn’t have one. “Queen Viktoria is a dear friend of mine. I took her in when no one else would, back when she was scrounging for scraps and stealing jewels to survive. I am here by her request.”
