Dinner With a Vampire (15 page)

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Authors: Abigail Gibbs

BOOK: Dinner With a Vampire
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I raised an eyebrow again. ‘Do you mean go with you?’ I asked.

‘Well … yeah.’

I grimaced. ‘Well, I have a very busy schedule of avoiding being sucked dry, so I will have to check my diary. But I can pencil it in, if you like?’

A huge beam spread from ear to ear on his face and he laughed, getting to his feet, pulling me onto mine too. The four boys had stopped playing poker to watch and Lyla peered over her phone, her lips parted a little in surprise. Even Kaspar looked out from his dark corner, studying me with his piercing gaze.

‘I would like that … I would like …’ He swept down into a bow and took my hand, planting a kiss on my knuckles. My eyes widened in embarrassment. ‘I would like you, Miss Violet Lee, to do I, Lord Fabian Marl Ariani, Earl of Ariani, the honour of accompanying me to the ball? Glass slippers and all?’

There was a pause as I digested his overkill. ‘If I must,’ I replied, rolling my eyes. His smile became wider and he jumped up. I glanced over at the others, who were all smiling, save for Kaspar and Lyla, whose faces were totally blank.

My heart fluttered for a moment, both in fear, disbelief and a little in excitement. ‘There is only one slight problem,’ I said.

‘What’s that?’ Fabian asked.

‘I don’t know how to dance.’

Fabian smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief once more. ‘Oh, we can fix that.’

NINETEEN
 
Violet
 

‘What do you mean you’re going to give me dance lessons?’ I screeched, head whipping around from one vampire to another.

‘It means exactly that. Dance lessons. Would you like me to spell it out for you?’ Kaspar leered.

‘I am perfectly capable of spelling it, thank you very much. I am sure I am far more intelligent than you anyway,’ I replied.

‘Sure thing, Girly,’ he retorted, laughter curling his lips into a lopsided smile. ‘I have years on you. Now come on, I don’t have all day.’ He grabbed me by the elbow and marched down the corridor. I glanced over my shoulder, looking for some pity from Fabian and Declan, but both just shrugged and followed.

We arrived outside the music room and stepping inside I saw Sky, Jag and Lyla stood beside a jet-black grand piano, placed at the edge of a square of varnished floor.

‘Here, put these on,’ Lyla said, throwing a pair of super-high, shocking-red heels at me and, fearing impalement from the stilettos, I let them fall to the ground. I glanced at them and then back at my flat shoes. I caught Lyla’s glare, however, and decided it would be best to do as she said. I slipped them on, the thin straps digging into my skin. Straightening up, I glanced at the ground, noting that it was a lot further down than usual.

Sky sat at the piano and Fabian grabbed my hand, pulling me onto the dance floor. I teetered on the spot, grabbing him for balance. I blushed wildly and an apologetic look formed on my face.

‘Violet, have you done any dancing before, other than this grounding?’ Sky called from the piano, where he sat playing scales up and down the piano, not paying the slightest bit of attention to his hands but never missing a note.

‘Grinding,’ Kaspar, Fabian and I corrected in unison.

‘Well, whatever it is called, it is merely a filthy excuse to procreate in public. Young people these days … He trailed off, his voice full of disgust. A stifled snigger escaped my mouth and I saw Fabian’s lips twitch. ‘I will take that as a no, you have not danced before. Well, Violet, listen carefully. I am an impatient teacher. I will not wait for you to fall over.’ I sobered up, smile wiped from my face. ‘We will start with the box step for a waltz. Now, stop slouching and imagine there is a box on the floor. You are starting at the bottom left-hand corner. On beat one, step forward to the top left-hand corner … yes, like that,’ he said as I took a step forward. ‘On beat two, step to the top right corner with your right foot and on beat three the left foot follows.’ I did as he instructed. ‘And yes, bring them together! Good! Now, step back with your right foot and take your left foot back to your original position, the right foot following, and thus, you have completed your box. Good, now, try again …’

Over and over I did this, Sky barking orders as the others watched from the sidelines, occasionally correcting a step. After a while, he told me to start rising and falling and whirling, which left my feet in a tangle but once ‘Box, remember the box!’ had been shouted at me a few times, they seemed to find their way and I was sweeping across the floor without any trouble.

He stopped all of a sudden. ‘I think you are ready to try it with a partner, don’t you? Fabian, if you will.’

I froze. This was the bit I was scared about. Fabian stepped forward, taking my right hand in his left. He placed my other hand just below his shoulder and his hand snaked around my waist, resting just above my hip. I tensed up as soon as he touched me, afraid of the contact.

‘Relax,’ he mouthed, eyes full of warmth. As he breathed, I felt his cold breath stirring my hair and I was aware that we were close, very close – so close that I blushed again.

‘Now just do what you were practising before, but allow Fabian to guide you,’ Sky called, turning back to the piano. The music began to play and we were frozen for a moment, before I felt Fabian gently push me back a step, his feet following mine as he guided me around the room.

‘I don’t know what you were worrying about,’ Fabian said, smiling. ‘You look like you were taught in the nursery, just like the rest of us.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re just saying that.’

‘Really, I’m not,’ he retorted, beaming.

‘I think we can leave the waltz for now, but there are many more dances for you to learn. Are you familiar with the dances of the late eighteenth century?’ Sky asked. We came to an abrupt halt and I wobbled on the spot, relying on Fabian’s steady hand to keep me upright. I looked at Sky, dumbfounded and mute. There was a wistful sigh from the corner.

‘Ah, the minuet. My forte,’ Jag said, coming forward.

 

Three hours later and I knew more dances than I had eaten hot dinners in my life, from so many eras of time that I felt like I was getting more of a history lesson than a dance lesson.

‘Remember, this one is called the
Sauteuse
. Now we must move on to etiquette,’ Sky said as I broke hold, relieved at the prospect of a rest: the joints in my elbows had rusted into place, leaving them stiff and sore.

‘Etiquette?’

‘Yes. Etiquette is as important as the steps of a dance. And stop looking so abashed, it is quite simple really,’ Sky snapped, clearly displeased at my tired expression. ‘First rule: a lady may never ask a gentleman to dance. She must wait to be asked. No exceptions.’

‘How sexist,’ I muttered, irritated and desperate to unpeel the shoe straps from the skin on my ankle.

‘Yes. It is sexist,’ Sky replied. ‘Second rule: if you wish to decline a dance, do so politely and timidly. Yes, timidly, Miss Lee, something that is clearly not in your repertoire.’

I had opened my mouth to question it but he beat me to it and was rewarded with a snort of laughter from the corner, where Kaspar stood.

‘Now, this is the most important part: curtseying. It is quite simple for you. On account of the fact you are human, you must curtsey to every partner, both before and after the dance. Aristocracy will bow back, royalty will not.’

I scowled. All curtseying and etiquette seemed to be was a humiliating, degrading exercise, designed to remind me of the fact I was human. But when I was about to voice that thought, the smile on Fabian’s face stopped me, leaving me tongue-tied.
I can’t spoil this for him,
I thought.
Vampire or not.

‘It is also essential that if a member of the royal family app-roaches you, you are especially courteous to them. Understood?’

I nodded.
At this rate, I’ll be half-crouched all night.
‘How will I know if someone is royalty? And what if I dance with a human? Do I have to curtsey then?’

‘Look for the coat of arms. But I highly doubt you will encounter any humans. They tend to stick with those they are familiar with.’

My heart sunk a fraction. One of the reasons I had agreed to go was to talk to, or at least see another human. To just glance at a set of normal teeth seemed like a dream.

‘Lastly, ensure that you are never alone. This is ludicrous enough as it is and such actions will only exacerbate the danger.’

I stared at my feet, scuffing the bottom of Lyla’s shoes on the floor. I knew it wasn’t safe. But it would be safer at the ball than it would be alone in my room. Seeming satisfied, Sky turned back to the piano.

‘Now, there is just time to go through these dances once more. Fabian, if you will …’

We ran through every dance once more, the vampires scrutinizing every tiny movement, correcting every minute mistake, until they were finally satisfied.

‘Now the waltz. Kaspar, you are our expert, would you lead?’ Kaspar stepped forward, but I backed off, wary.

‘Why do I have to dance with him?’ I asked, eyeing his movements as he swaggered towards me.

‘Because I have to ensure you are good enough to dance in a royal court, Girly.
Royal
, Girly,
royal,
’ Kaspar drawled in his aggravatingly patronizing voice.

‘Kaspar here is quite a dancer, near as accomplished as our father,’ Sky explained, proudly. Reluctantly, I inched closer, my eyes never leaving his, as a more and more devilish smile formed on his lips. But he stopped and waited and took a step back when I came close.

‘Do it properly. Curtsey,’ he said. I bobbed down, not doing it ‘properly’, but in the second I took my eyes off him he had darted forward, pulling me towards him. He forced my hand to entwine with his, whilst he placed his other hand a little too firmly on my waist.

‘Oh, “accomplished” are we?’ I imitated in a low voice so only he could hear. ‘Why didn’t
you
teach me how to dance then?’

‘Watching gives a far better view.’ His eyes very deliberately slid down to my chest and his lips cracked into a smirk. ‘Nice top.’

I grunted in disgust. The music began playing and a chill passed down my spine. We began whirling, but my feet struggled to find the rhythm, because the piece was slower and darker than any waltz we had previously practised to.

Suddenly, we had broken hold and Kaspar was holding me at arms’ length. I panicked and looked at him in alarm.

‘Turn!’ he snapped. I turned under his arm; as I did, he pulled be back towards him until we were stood chest-to-chest, one of my hands caught in his high in the air, the other wrapped around his back.

‘This isn’t part of a waltz!’ I hissed at him.

‘No, it isn’t,’ he replied, looking down at me through darkening eyes. ‘But I like variety. Get used to it.’ He twirled me around again and we returned to the hold, gliding around the floor.

‘This isn’t very gentlemanly of you.’ To my surprise, he cracked a smile – and a genuine one at that.

‘Very true. But we aren’t at a ball, so tough luck.’ At that moment, the music began to fade away and we retreated away from one another. I curtsied and Kaspar turned away.

‘Well?’ a low, raspy voice asked. My heart skipped a beat. The King had appeared from nowhere, standing in the shadows of the room, face hidden in shadow. I curtsied, and Fabian and Declan bowed.

‘She’ll do,’ Kaspar replied. The King nodded, thoughtfully, eyes never leaving me. I turned away, uncomfortable, and I felt his stare on my back for a moment more as everybody left. Lyla paused and I tugged my feet out of her heels, handing them back. When she had gone, I limped over to the piano stool, wincing as I put my flat shoes back on.

Why am I even doing this? Why am I letting myself get close?
Everyday the image of the slaughtered hunters faded away and I found myself struggling to remember that these were the same vampires that had ripped them apart … these vampires that I had just danced with.

I shivered, chilled to the bone. The cool gloss of the grand piano seemed to mock me, as my pale, frightened reflection stared back. My eyes were even wearier these days, and I sighed. It wasn’t just the memory of the London Bloodbath that was fading. So was the hope of getting out of Varnley.

We’ll get you out of there, Violet, but it’s going to take time …

My father’s parting words haunted me. I was waiting it out all right. But how much longer could I last?

TWENTY
 
Violet
 

‘Can I look yet?’ I asked, eyes squeezed shut as Lyla guided me towards the mirror.

‘No, not yet.’ There was a tugging as she teased a loose strand of hair around her finger, before fastening it into a clip. ‘Okay, you can look,’ she buzzed.

I opened my eyes to see an unfamiliar person staring back, violet eyes ablaze as they widened in shock.

‘Is that me?’

Lyla nodded, eyes examining her creation. She waved two of the maids from the room as I looked up and down the length of the mirror, hardly believing that the person staring back was what I had been transformed into.

My dark, black hair was loosely curled, falling just below my shoulders. My fringe and some of the looser curls had been swept back off my forehead, pinned by a tiny rose clip on one side of my head. My skin was all one colour: a pallid, pasty white and I wore barely any make-up, just mascara, eyeliner and a sweep of dark eye shadow. Around my neck was a black lace choker, another ornate rose attached to it. I could feel it pressing into my windpipe, as a steady pulse throbbed against the delicate material.

But it was the dress that was the real transformation. It was a strapless ball gown, violet in colour – no coincidence, obviously. The neckline was heart-shaped, a figure-hugging corset clinging to my waist as thousands of tiny glass beads ran across the bust and the length of one side. The skirt flared from the hip, the material puckered and gathered with yet more beads until it just brushed the ground. I would
kill
to own a dress like it.
Kill.

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