When Will I See You Again (38 page)

The Lupercalia Ball was being held in the ballroom of the fanciest hotel in Crescent Bay, the Grainger. Raoul had spent part of his day shuttling back and forth, checking preparations to ensure everything would come off without a hitch, despite the fact that he had a staff for that purpose. But he was leaving nothing to chance.
He didn’t want his father to come back to him with any reports of less than perfection, even if his heart wasn’t in the effort.

When nothing else remained to be done, he returned to his office at Charisma and donned the midnight blue tuxedo, critically admiring himself afterward in the full-length mirror. He knew he was too pale, and dark circles ringed his eyes. He hadn’t slept well ever since Alexx left. But that couldn’t be helped now.

So why
was
he going to the Lupercalia Ball, despite all his protestations that he didn’t care about it? He told himself that it was for his mother’s sake, nothing more. That was why he stopped on the way to the hotel and purchased a corsage to adorn his mother’s gown, although he had no idea what color she intended to wear. The florist outdid herself, gathering miniature cymbidium orchids with ribbons in sheer, velvet, and silk. He was sure she would approve of the elegant floral assembly. He set the box containing the peace offering to his mother on the passenger seat, wishing that it were occupied by Alexx instead. That too could not be helped, so he tried to thrust the thought aside, but visions of Alexx remained, despite his best intentions, and these he left intact.

He didn’t see any sense in arriving too early. He was sure everyone would survive without him, the supernaturals as well as the non-supernaturals. He actually closed Charisma for the night, to the delight of his staff, having discovered in past years that business declined sharply, to the point where it was ridiculous to keep it open. The supernaturals were all in attendance at the Ball, and as many people as could crowded around the hotel to watch them pass in and out, in open admiration. The parking lot was full by the time he pulled up, fashionably late by his standards. He turned the car over to the valet with his usual admonition regarding the odometer and the vehicle’s immaculate finish that better stay
that way or else.

Another reason not to arrive too soon was to avoid hearing his entrance announced, although in earlier times he’d thrived on the attention, styling himself the crown prince of the supernatural set.

This year, he merely wished to be left alone.

He walked up the grand steps that led to the front door, casting a wistful glance into the night sky. For what, he couldn’t say.

“Good evening, Mr. Marchand.”

He nodded to the doorman and passed inside. The foyer was large and open, well lit with enormous and expensive crystal chandeliers, the décor white and gold flocked wallpaper, mingled with splashes of burgundy.

People thronged through the hallways, mingling and greeting one another with delighted cries and kisses and hugs. He paid them no attention, hoped they’d not notice him. But that was an unrealistic goal, at best. He was far too well known in Crescent Bay to seek any sort of anonymity. But he resolved to remain calm, cool, and polite—most of all polite—to carry on as if Alexx were by his side. Looking back on their short-lived relationship, he realized something he’d not noticed before. Namely, the calming effect Alexx had on him. He missed that, missed Alexx terribly.

But he was also determined to be the man Alexx believed he could be. So he greeted those that hailed him with affability, even as he made his way toward the ballroom where the grand event was being held, the florist’s box in one hand.

He found his parents greeting the guests as they entered, standing in his stead. He’d known they would, especially in light of the fact he’d given them no indication that he was even attending. His mother looked beautiful, as usual, her auburn hair elaborately coifed atop her head, with a few long elegant strands
falling along her slender neck. Her dress was an off white, with filaments of gold that threaded through the fabric, causing it to shine. She offered each guest a dazzling smile, took each person’s hand, and made him feel as if he was the most important person there. Raoul knew her ways too well not to know this, and it was why everyone loved her. His father stood beside her, equally well turned out sartorially, playing host to the hilt. Looking at the two people who’d brought him into this world, he realized he loved them both fiercely, even if he was sometimes slow to display that love.

His father noticed him first. Raoul could have sworn he saw a smirk grace Philippe’s lips, but the next moment it was gone. He touched Eleanor’s arm, and she turned and looked, and her smile was wide and loving as she held out her arms to her son.

He accepted her embrace, allowed her to envelop him with the light scent of citrus that surrounded her in a faint mist. “I’m so glad you came,” she murmured in delight, releasing him to his father’s welcoming handshake.

“I’m not sure for how long,” he warned her, handing her the corsage. As his father pinned it into place, Raoul glanced toward the ballroom floor where couples swirled together in colorful pairs to the sounds of the chamber orchestra hired for the occasion.

Waltzes and mazurkas and schottisches, foxtrots and tangos would all be danced on this evening, throwbacks to a more gentile time, when couples danced together in more relaxed rhythms.

A stab of pain pierced his heart at the sight of so much happiness, so much togetherness, and all the dreams he’d once entertained of him and Alexx being a part of that happy throng welled inside of him, only to die again, stillborn. He turned away from the sight.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on some things.” He walked quickly away, but he could still hear her parting words.

“Save me a dance, please.”

He grimaced, but never turned to acknowledge that he’d heard her. He was in no hurry to dance, despite the fact that was why he’d come. At least that’s what he told himself.

He kept himself busy for the next couple of hours, staying behind the scenes as much as possible, making sure everything ran smoothly. The bartenders had things well in hand, and reported no incidents of minors attempting to be served. There were no altercations between werewolves and vampires. Everyone seemed caught up in the celebration of the holiday, too intent on having fun to stir up ancient and ridiculous prejudices. Too busy having fun to make war.

That was something to be grateful for, anyway.

He was just leaving the area of the bar when a man ran into him, his head down, obviously not looking where he was going.

Raoul grabbed his arms to keep them both from toppling. When the man turned his gaze upward, Raoul was startled to recognize Alexx’s friend.

“Miller? What are you doing here?”

“I—um…that is…the ball. I’m here for the ball.”

“For the
Chronicle
?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean no. Just for myself. I…got a ticket…and couldn’t pass up the chance. Well, it was nice seeing you, Raoul.”

He wriggled out of Raoul’s grasp and started to make a hasty exit toward the bar, but Raoul caught his arm before he’d taken two steps.

“Miller, have you seen Alexx? I haven’t been able to find him, and I’m worried about him. He’s not at the paper, not at the
boarding house… Do you know where he is?”

“Do I know where he is?” Miller parroted dumbly.

“That’s what I asked you, yes.” Raoul’s irritation was rising, although he tried to tamp it down, for Alexx’s sake. He couldn’t help but feel that Miller was hiding something, though.

“I honestly don’t know where he is right now, Raoul.” Miller threw up his hands in protest. “Beats the heck out of me. But if I do see him, I’ll be sure to tell him you were asking about him.

Okay?”

He tried to back away from Raoul’s grasp. Raoul realized he was being an ass, although with good motives. He released Miller and mumbled an apology as he turned away, feeling the pain lance his heart once more.

He couldn’t stand it here anymore. He wanted to leave.

Quickly. He was tired of happy faces and contented lovers and dancing and music and a world he couldn’t share in and didn’t want to without Alexx. He’d slip out, have the valet bring his car, and speed off into the night. His father would be disappointed, and he’d owe his mother one hell of an apology. But he’d just have to make it up to them—he couldn’t stay.

Besides—he glanced at his watch—it was going on midnight.

Lupercalia was almost over, technically. No reason to stay.

He’d almost reached the door of the ballroom, almost made his escape, when he heard her speak his name, her voice reaching above the others as if aimed at him, and he drew himself up, caught in the act. Stifling an exasperated sigh, he turned to find his mother smiling beatifically at him.

“Ready for that dance? Good.” Without waiting for a yea or a nay, she took his arm and pulled him onto the dance floor. A waltz was playing, one of Strauss’s many, and they fell together into the
syncopated three-four meter of the dance.

“Were you going somewhere?” she questioned glibly, her smile never wavering.

“I thought so, but apparently not,” he responded with as good a grace as he could muster. Glancing at her, he noticed that the flower he’d brought no longer decorated her bosom, and he frowned, but quickly became distracted by her movements instead, before he could think to question her about it. For some reason, she was directing their steps along the edge of the other dancers, moving away from them.
Great. Here comes the lecture,
he thought glumly, preparing himself for the worst.

He was unprepared, though, to be danced through the open doors and onto the terrace. Even worse than he thought. She anticipated yelling, so had brought him away from the others, where he could gnash his teeth in peace at whatever she was about to say. She stopped dancing once they stepped outside, and simply pulled him toward the shadows of the trees at the edge of the terrace.

“Now don’t move,” she cautioned him. “And don’t do anything stupid, dear.”

Before he could ask her what that even meant, she kissed his cheek softly, and disappeared inside the ballroom, leaving Raoul to stare after her in bewilderment. Women! He’d never understood them before, and he understood them even less at this moment. But maybe this was his chance to slip out unnoticed after all.

He heard a rustling sound behind him and he whirled, instantly on the defensive. After what had happened with Foster, he was taking no chances.

But it was no would-be intruder that stood there in the moonlight, looking more beautiful than he thought possible, in an
elegant gray tuxedo, big blue eyes staring at Raoul with an indescribable look of longing—it was Alexx. And on his lapel, Raoul’s beautiful corsage gleamed.

Raoul was speechless. Unaccustomedly so.

“You came,” he said in awestruck tones when he finally found his voice.

Alexx nodded.

Raoul had a hundred questions for him, beginning with how and why, but everything seemed immaterial beside the fact that he was here, and Raoul’s heart was singing at his proximity, and his soul was dancing for joy. So rather than waste unnecessary breath, he took a step toward Alexx, and Alexx took a step toward him, and they fell together with a joyous meeting of their mouths, which were able to say more than mere words could ever express.

Their bodies reacted to the dictates of their heart, and to the familiar strains that filled the night. One two three, one two three, around and around they floated on their small section of the terrace, part of the night but separate from the rest, oblivious to everything but one another. And when the music ended, Raoul fell to his knees, and held Alexx tight, trembling with emotion.

He took Alexx’s hand in his, stroked it softly.

“I’m so sorry, Alexx,” Raoul murmured. “So so sorry. More than I can say.”

Alexx dropped down beside him, both kneeling on the smooth stone floor of the terrace, holding tight to one another.

“I wasn’t going to come,” Alexx admitted. “Even after your father gave me the ticket.”

“My father did what?” Raoul softly growled, but Alexx laid a soothing hand upon his arm.

“He came to see me, but maybe that’s what I needed. I almost
gave the ticket to Miller.”

“Miller? He’s here. I saw him. He said he didn’t know where you were.”

“He didn’t. We didn’t come together. I managed to get him another ticket. From your father, yes. He also gave me the number of your tailor. He does nice work.” He looked down at his tux and smiled.

“He did that for you? Ohhhh…” Suddenly Raoul understood.

“You’re the reason he couldn’t fit me for my tux.”

“Actually, he told me he’d made yours a long time ago. A gift from Philippe.” Alexx’s smile grew broader. “I see you found it.”

“Why, that sneaky son of a bitch,” Raoul swore, but he wasn’t angry. He was too happy to be angry.

“He only wants you to be happy, Raoul. The same thing I want.

That’s all. He was worried about you and so was I. He told me you’ve stopped drinking so much. I’m glad.”

Raoul gathered a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You make me happy, Alexx. In the short time we’ve been together, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”