Crimson Moon (34 page)

"Not for me,” Trent promised, bending to my ear. “I've been in and out of your mind for months now."

"I'm not surprised,” I goaded, smiling as we passed two people in uniforms who bowed to us, “After all, staying out of my mind would mean you actually have manners."

His shoulders bowed, as if pained, and he winced. “That hurts, Emma."

The group of vampires my Father approached divided upon his arrival, opening the circle around him. Mom held her head high, standing alongside him, and I smiled.

A man strode forward as they approached. He was lean, taller than my Father, and beautiful. His long brown hair was tied at the neck, his chocolate brown eyes emitting that glow that distinguished him as immortal. His skin was the same flawless pale perfection I'd recognize immediately.

"Blace,” my Father addressed him, bowing low as did my Mother. Eyes settled on me as they lifted their shoulders and smiled in my direction. “We would like to formally introduce our daughter, Emmaline."

I struggled to conceal my shock. Blace traveled to me so quickly my human eyes couldn't track the movements. Vampire motions were deft, graceful, and fast. He nodded at Trent and he released me, stepping back and away.

"Give me your wrist, child,” Blace's voice compelled, his profuse Scottish brogue so like my Father.

My palm was in his hand but I didn't recall moving. He lowered his face to my skin, nose pressing against the sensitive flesh, inhaling the sweet smell of my blood. I felt myself tremble, tendrils of nervousness prickling down my spine.

"You have the look of your Mother and the power of your Father,” he told me, drawing air through his nose, deeply this time. “Yes, it's so strong, directly under the surface.” He didn't look back to my Father as he addressed him. “She is a most welcome addition to our family, Luca.” He released my hand as he spoke, “We receive you gladly into our fold, little Emmaline."

I felt disoriented, confused and cloudy, as he returned to his spot in the circle. I hadn't seen him move again. One minute he was there, the next he was gone.

My Mother and Father returned to me as the DeViard clan converged around Blace once more, shielding his tall frame from view. I shook my head to clear the haze, trying to recall why I gave him my hand.

"
Mind control,"
Trent whispered privately in my mind.

"Emma?” Mom asked worriedly, her usually serene face concerned.

"I'm fine Mom.” I smiled, blinking rapidly.

I touched her arm and she settled as I hoped she would. My Father glanced at Trent, a silent communication taking place between them. Trent nodded and returned to my side, his arm encircling my waist once more.

"Lily,” Dad whispered into my Mother's ear. “I've waited the entire flight to dance with you, shall we?"

Mom smiled and nodded, placing her arm inside the crook of his arm. They walked to the open end of the room, near the orchestra and dance floor. They looked amazing together, the love between them radiating outward for everyone to see. Dad opened his arms as they stepped onto the oval surface and she slipped trustingly into them. Their bodies moved together in absolute unison, eyes seeing only each other.

Trent leaned down to whisper in my ear, “I envy them."

"Me too,” I said, heart aching, remembering someone who'd let me go to protect me.

"Let's join them.” Trent offered his arm and I hesitated. Dancing in private was one thing, but this was a completely different environment.

Trent chuckled at my uncertainty, tucking my hand inside his arm and pulling me with him. I kept pace, more concerned about falling in my heels than moving across the dance floor. He pulled us into the center, placing my hand on his shoulder and grasping the other gently in his fingers.

"Relax.” He smiled, his confident steps moving us around the floor. I struggled at first—it was awkward moving my feet in the dress shoes—but I quickly got the hang of it, following his lead. He was elegant as he moved, exactly as I remembered.

"You're very good,” I confessed, smiling into his face. His aqua eyes shined brilliantly in the crystalline lighting.

"Thank you. You're doing remarkably well for your first time in public,” he offered praise, sharing a rare full smile.

His teeth were perfect, just like the rest of him. I glanced away, eyes finding my parents once more. They swirled together, Mom's dress flowing around their legs as they moved. She looked exquisite, the large smile gracing her face making her even lovelier. Her hazel eyes flashed a grass green, perfectly visible across the dance floor.

A woman crossed the shining wooden floor. She tapped my Father on the shoulder, whispering and smiling seductively. She was gorgeous, the dark ebony hair hanging to her waist enhancing her porcelain skin. She was draped in red velvet, doe like eyes gleaming amber.

My Mother smiled but it didn't extend to her eyes. She bowed courteously, moving away as Dad wrapped his arms around the stranger and spun her around the dance floor.

I released Trent, frowning as I hurried to my Mother's departing back. She walked to a server holding a tray full of champagne and took a flute, bringing it to her lips. Her green eyes were darkening, shifting to a hazel brown. Demonstrating that changing to vampire didn't remove all traces of former humanity.

"Mom, are you okay?"

"I'm fine.” She tried to reassure me but I wasn't fooled.

I stood next to her, shoulders brushing. I didn't wrap my arm around her as I wanted to, too concerned the display would let the woman with my Father know she was successful in her attempts to unravel her.

"
Who is she
?” I thought to Trent, incensed and outraged.

He stood where I had left him, watching everything unfold across the room. “
That is none other than Monica Acarons. The woman your Father was supposed to marry."

My eyes narrowed, following their graceful movements. She smiled at my Father, wrapping her arms possessively around his shoulders. He was unfailingly polite, nodding as she spoke, but his smile was strained. She lifted her hand to touch his hair, turning her head and laughing.

"Okay, enough of that,” I snapped.

I left my Mother and strode across the floor toward them. She would not smite my parents in front of everyone here, not if I had anything to say about it.

"Excuse me?” I tapped my Father gently on the shoulder and gray eyes lit with happiness and relief. “May I cut in?"

Dad attempted to remove himself from her grasp but she held on tight. She glared at me, smirking. “We haven't finished this dance, if you don't mind."

"Actually, I do. Dad promised me the dance of my choice and this is it.” Maneuvering close to him. I pressed into his chest, into the small amount of space left.

She seethed at me in absolute fury. She was stronger and could have easily stopped me, but after a moment she let go, stepping clear of us.

Dad immediately swept us across the floor, his warm smile returning. “Thank you, lass."

"My pleasure, believe me.” I bit my lip, resisting the urge to tell him exactly how I felt about Monica Acarons.

He danced lightly across the floor, making it easy to keep pace. His arms were secure and gentle as he led me, our laughter erupting in unison as he whirled our bodies around. The song ended and he cupped my neck, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to my forehead.

"I love you, Emmaline.” Although he told me this daily, it felt more significant on the dance floor amidst a room full of people.

"Love you, too.” I felt my eyes burn and bit my cheek to keep the tears from flowing.

He smiled down at me, offering his arm to lead us back to my Mother. She was watching happily, a dazzling smile radiating across her beautiful face. She pulled me against her when we were within reach, squeezing too tightly. I winced and she let go.

"I'm sorry,” she apologized. She always feared touching me. Vampires could break all the bones inside my body with a simple hug.

"Don't be.” I smiled at her. “You two go ahead. The wicked witch is gone now."

Dad extended his arm and she accepted. They crossed the dance floor, dancing as if nothing had interrupted them. I felt happy about my choice to be here. No one would treat my family terribly, not if I could stop them. I knew that if Dad weren't bound by his punishment, he wouldn't stand by and allow the treatment either.

Trent idled over, his lips forming into a delighted grin. “When you danced with Luca, you were the vision of your Mother."

His fingers traced my neck and spine and I shivered, peering at him dubiously. He lifted his hand, displaying the necklace that managed to spin to the front of my dress. His fingers smoothed the chain, returning it to the back of my shoulders.

"How angry was Monica when I cut in?"

"Angry enough that she wanted to chide you—until you Father gave her a visual of the scene it would create.” Trent chuckled.

"It serves her right.” I glanced around the room, locating her dark head.

"That temper of yours is going to get you into trouble one day,” Trent predicted, grinning in anticipation.

I blushed at his expression. “I can't help myself. What is her power anyway, aside from being a heinous hag?"

"She's unlucky, not only in love, but in ability as well. She can enhance emotions. Unfortunately, she can only magnify them in herself. I imagine it made a wonderful alternative to an antidepressant when Luca denied her."

"Ouch.” I grimaced. “It must suck to be her."

"In more ways than one,” Trent agreed, smiling.

We mingled among the families until the time came for the ascension ceremony. The excitement amplified as everyone gathered at the base of the stairs, watching as the humans in the room took their places, six of us in all.

Blace DeViard and the other heads of the houses sat in the chairs placed in the semicircle up top. The largest and most prominent of the chairs in the center waited empty.

A tall vampire with long brown hair drifted onto the stage, silencing the crowd and calling for quiet. His deep voice carried across the room.

"His royal Prince, Decimus Watts!"

A figure appeared from behind the chairs on stage, undeniably vampire. Wheat blond hair fell past his shoulders to his hips, the long strands thick and straight. Luminous canary yellow eyes absently surveyed the room as he glided across the floor.

The deep purple jacket spread across his broad shoulders flowed outward, conjuring the image of a robe or dress. The intricate hand sewn golden threading along the front of the garment matched the pattern on the fitted slacks, smooth around his trim muscular waist.

An expanse of his chest was bare, revealing the gloriously pale skin that glistened in the light. He was ageless, looking just as young as he did old. He took the empty chair in center, golden strands of hair billowed behind him as he sat.

"Continue.” His softly spoken word was full of mastery and strength. I felt the shift as everyone stilled, myself included. Sheer power oozed from his lips, encasing the room.

"Would the royal houses please announce themselves present,” the brown trussed vampire requested.

They stood one by one, declaring themselves—the Acarons, Fallon, Lorrimar, Basko, and DeViard families. They sat, settling into their chairs when finished.

"Imar Lorrimar, please approach,” the Prince spoke again, his voice feather soft but perfectly clear.

I couldn't see the person moving along the crowd at our backs, but his steps were easily decipherable as they echoed off the marble.

His body crossed the line of my peripheral vision and he walked to the stairs. He wasn't youthful, changed later in his life, grey hair speckling his temples. He passed in front of us, stopping at the opposite end of the line. It was either blessing or a curse that I would be going last.

"Begin,” the Prince commanded in a musical voice.

Imar stood in front of the first person, requesting the blade. The young man produced the knife, holding it out in his open palm. Imar lifted the young man's hand, cutting into the flesh swiftly, causing blood to well out. He lifted the wound to his lips, drinking slowly. He took several swallows, releasing the procured hand and closing his eyes.

"Clairalience,” he announced and the room shifted in excitement.

"The ability to perceive things psychically by smell,"
Trent whispered in my head.

Imar moved down the line, following the same procedure. The second person, a young girl, swayed on her feet as the cut was made. He drank, waiting just moments to announce her talent.

"Telepathy."

"
Careful, you might be out of a job
,” I teased Trent, fighting a smile as his chuckles echoed back.

The third young man was perfectly still, waiting as Imar drank deeply.

"Empathetic!” He said excitedly. The voices in the room raised, his talent was obviously an appreciated one.

"Very special, one who can shift and perceive emotions in others
,” Trent informed me. “
This one will be sought after
."

He reached for the blade of the young man to my left, cutting deep and drinking.

"Retrocognition!"

"
Very, very rare this talent
—
delving into the past,"
Trent's voice echoed in my mind.

Imar maneuvered in front of me and I attempted to cease my trembling, extending my Father's small knife and holding out my hand.

His cut was clean and true, the sting arriving several moments after the incision on the top of the knuckle. He lowered his head, drawing my blood into his mouth several times before letting go and stepping back. I cradled my hand carefully in front of my body to avoid staining my dress. The sting was sharp now, air flowing into the shallow slice.

Imar didn't open his eyes immediately and I began to fidget. He opened his eyes and frowned.

The room broke into curious whispers when he yanked my hand back to his mouth, drinking again.

I gasped as he released me, closing his eyes. His mouth shifted and his lids flew open. His face was marred with an expression I couldn't describe; a mixture of fear, shock, and horror.