Faerie Godmother: Mythic Series, Book 1 (3 page)

At one time, Vlane had been a more congenial host and taken part in the festivities, but he had become increasingly reclusive over the years. Immortality and the restlessness of his stagnant existence weighed heavily on him as of late and he was in no mood to surround himself with living, breathing examples of people or beings who changed every day in some small way or another. Not when he didn’t, couldn’t, and never would again.

He shook his head swiftly, as if that might shake some snippets of elusive recollection back into place. “I was in my office, working on the accounts and occasionally catching a glimpse of the gala. Then...nothing until you two were dragging me inside this morning.”

“I think it’s safe to say no one forcibly removed you from your office,” Kristoff suggested. “So that means something — or someone — obviously got your attention and drew you out. Perhaps the security video will tell us something.”

“An excellent idea,” agreed Armand.

* * *

“S
o?” Dani asked excitedly as she bounced into the Sanctuary the following day. “How was it?”

At sixteen, Dani was naturally ebullient. Her hair, a beautiful shade of amber striated with gold and gathered into a ponytail, bounced right along with the rest of her. Her golden brown eyes were filled with anticipation, her youthful skin radiant with expectation.

Ana barely glanced up from the instruments she was sterilizing. “It was okay.”

Dani shot her a stunned look. “Okay?
Okay?!
You were at the masquerade after party at Vlane Masterson’s! God, Ana. You are
so
lucky. Do you know what I would give to go to something like that?”

Ana bit back a smile. Yes, she had a pretty good idea. It was all Dani had been able to talk about for the last two months. Apparently, getting an invitation to the event was a big deal — to everyone but Ana. She tried to stay under the radar as often as she possibly could, and going to the year’s most celebrated and exclusive local event was not the way to do it. However, with much effort, Dani had convinced her that
not
accepting the invitation would draw more attention than attending and keeping a low profile.

“It was just an after party. No big deal, Dani.”

“No big deal. No big deal, she says,” Dani lamented, lifting both hands and eyes to the sky as if asking for divine patience. “Did you actually see him? Vlane Masterson, I mean?”

Oh yes
, Ana thought. She had seen him. Heard his hypnotic voice, smooth and rich as a double-chocolate milkshake. Breathed in the dark, decadent scent of him, causing desire to unfurl in her belly like a spring bloom on an accelerated time lapse. Felt his cool, moist breath and the hard steel of his body pressed against hers as his fangs pierced the delicate skin of her neck, filling her with the most wonderful sensations...

“Ana? Did you?”

Ana couldn’t lie. Like her “gift”, she didn’t understand it, but there it was — blatant untruths simply could not pass over her lips. She had become quite adept at redirection, however. “Did I what?”

“See. Vlane. Masterson.” Dani pronounced each word with particular emphasis. “I heard he is drop-dead gorgeous.”

Well, he
was
dead...or undead. Ana wasn’t quite sure which was politically correct. But gorgeous seemed inadequate. Vlane Masterson was, quite possibly, the most stunning example of masculine beauty Ana had ever seen. And he was a
vampire
.

“It was a costume party, remember? With masks.” For most people, anyway — not
him
, but definitely Ana. Thank God for that. In her faerie princess costume, with the tightly fitted bodice and full, flowing skirt, she’d gone as the Queen of the Fae. It had been Dani’s idea, saying Ana’s petite, delicate features made her a perfect faerie. The girl really did have a flair for the dramatic. On the plus side, no one recognized her as the antisocial animal doc, though many had tried in vain to guess her identity.

Dani bit her lip, puzzling over that little tidbit. “Yeah, I guess. Did anyone recognize you?”

“
I
didn’t recognize me.”

Dani giggled. “Yeah, that was kind of the point.” Then, sobering a little, Dani looked at her thoughtfully. “You are so pretty, Ana. Why don’t you wear any makeup? Or do your hair? Or wear something other than shapeless scrubs and oversized men’s clothing?”

“Animals don’t care about that kind of thing and neither do I.” Hair, makeup, fashionable clothes — those were all things people did to feel better about themselves and garner attention. Ana was quite happy with who she was, and preferred living quietly in the shadows.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Dani countered. “Several of the males were practically pissing on each other over you after the pack meeting last week. Matt threatened to hose them all down if they didn’t rein it in.”

That made Ana pause. “What?”

Dani smirked. “Yeah. They think you’re hot, even for a human. If you were a Were, you’d probably be expecting your first litter by now.”

“Well, I’m not,” Ana said firmly, hoping it didn’t sound too harsh. Dani was pretty much the only female friend she’d made in Mythic. Offending her was not her intention, but the last thing she needed was to become involved with a
werewolf
.

It wasn’t that she was prejudiced. The Mythic pack had been very kind and generous, giving her a place to stay in return for medical care until their regular pack healer returned from a personal leave. But until Dani ended up on the operating table nearly a year earlier, Ana hadn’t even known they existed. She was still getting used to the idea.

And now she had vampires to factor into the equation. It made her wonder what else was out there, lurking just beyond the blinders of her naiveté. How incredibly close-minded had it been of her to assume she was the only one who was different?

“You can’t help what you are, Ana. No amount of denial will change that.”

Yeah, no kidding
, thought Ana. The question was — what was she?

T
he three vamps, close friends despite the great disparity in their ages, crowded around the monitors in Vlane’s private office.

“There! Look. Who is that?” Armand pointed at the screen directed toward the entranceway. A small female dressed in flowing white silk and jewels stepped into the foyer, looking around as though lost. Her head swiveled this way and that as she clutched her tiny bag and shifted her weight nervously from side to side. The creature nearly jumped a foot when Zarek, the vampire guard watching the door, suddenly appeared in full Gypsy regalia and requested her invitation.

Vlane went still as he felt something fire to life deep within his chest.

“How did I miss
that
?” Kristoff murmured.

“I do not know,” Armand mused. “But I cannot recall her, either.”

Three pairs of predatory eyes fixed upon the display as they switched from one camera to another to follow her progress. They watched intently as the delicate figure made her way further into the ballroom, drawing attention and receiving curious, polite nods of greeting by male and female guests alike. While her movements were inherently graceful, they also appeared to be hesitant and  uncertain. She gravitated toward the outer edges of the ballroom, seeking the shadows.

It wasn’t enough to escape notice, however. Males in particular seemed inexplicably drawn to her. As one after another approached, she shook her head, presumably declining offers of drink and dance.

“It goes on like this for a while,” Armand said quietly. He fast-forwarded the images until the tape showed Vlane entering the ballroom, obviously searching for something — or someone. He ignored all attempts to garner his attention, striding purposefully along the edges of the room, his eyes fixed on the open French doors leading out to the balcony.

“Switch to the outside camera on the north side,” Vlane said, some vague recollection haunting the edges of his mind, just out of reach.

Armand did so, reaching over to tap the keys. The picture changed, showing the woman at the far end of the balcony. Her back was toward the ballroom, and the camera; her hands rested on the stone wall as she looked out into the perfectly manicured gardens. In the video, Vlane appeared and hesitated briefly before continuing across the polished stone until he stood directly behind her. The woman gave no indication she was aware of his presence, but that was not unusual. Vampires had the ability to move silently, a necessary skill to avoid frightening their prey.

They remained like that for several long moments. Then, Vlane stepped forward. The woman tensed visibly when he placed his hands on her shoulders, but made no move to flee. Moments later, Vlane swept the gently cascading tendrils of hair to the side, exposing the creamy, peach skin at the delicate curve of her neck. His arms went around her waist and his head lowered slowly, nuzzling as hers drifted to the side.

The silence was heavy as the vampires stared at the screen, transfixed. The woman’s body jerked as Vlane struck sure and true, sinking his fangs deep into her vein.

“Christ,” whispered Kristoff, tasting his own blood where his fangs had pierced his lip.

In the video, Vlane lifted his head, his face a study in pure, unbridled ecstasy.

And then, he collapsed.

The woman turned, her face still concealed by the mask she wore. Rivulets of dark ruby were clearly visible running the length of her neck and down the expanse of perfect skin, soaking into the shimmering pearlescent white of her bodice. She knelt down beside him and lay her head upon his chest as if listening before turning her attention to his face.

In an exceedingly tender gesture, she pushed the hair away from his brow and placed one hand over his head, the other over his heart. Her lips moved slightly before she released him. With furtive looks toward the ballroom, she backed up enough to pull him out of the pool of light streaming onto the patio. It was obviously a struggle; she was much smaller than the master vampire, but she was tenacious.

With his dark hair and clothing, Vlane melded into the shadows, but the woman’s gown reflected enough light to capture her movements. When Vlane was completely out of sight, she leaned down. It was impossible to see exactly what she was doing, but Vlane felt the burn of her kiss upon his lips in tactile remembrance.

And then, she was gone — nothing but a ghostly white blur across the gardens.

“Vlane,” Kristoff murmured. “How could you forget something like that? What did she do to you?”

Vlane couldn’t answer him, awash with palpable memories brought forth by the recorded digital images. He remembered the feel of her against him, warm and feminine. The scent of her perfect skin, and the taste of her exquisite blood; he had never had anything like it. It had been like drinking
life
itself, a potent cocktail of sunshine and hope and light, flowing over his tongue, down his throat, suffusing his entire body with a strange, tingling energy.

“Well, I think it is safe to say that whatever it was, it was nothing like we’ve seen before,” Kristoff said, frowning. “Strangely enough, I do not think she meant to harm you in any way. Her reactions seem to suggest she was rather stricken by the turn of events, don’t you think?”

Armand did not seem quite as sure. “Such lovely bait,” he mused thoughtfully. “A vision of innocence and purity. Irresistible to those like us, who exist in perpetual darkness. I daresay, Kristoff, if Vlane had not spotted her first, you or I may have fallen victim just as easily.”

At the thought that one of the others might have discovered her first, an uncharacteristic flare of possessive rage rose up inside Vlane. With considerable effort and centuries of self-discipline, he managed to contain it enough to speak normally. “Where were you, Armand?”

“Snacking,” Armand responded absently with a dismissive wave of his hand. As the video feed returned to the ballroom, his figure became visible, re-entering in his Zorro costume with a particularly buxom tavern wench on his arm. As old as he was, he preferred the well-endowed, Rubenesque types — reminiscent of a time when woman were soft and full and didn’t try to minimize their natural forms. The woman had the same dazed and pleased look so many of his “snacks” wore afterward.

“What of you?” Vlane asked, turning to Kristoff.

“Fucking,” Kristoff said unapologetically. The few times he’d returned to the ballroom had been brief. It took him only a few minutes to find his next conquests before he was off again, into the nearest alcove or area offering a modicum of privacy. They were necessary concessions for the other guests’ comfort more so than his own.

“Neither of you recognize her?” Vlane said, schooling his voice to reveal none of the inner turmoil he felt. Both men shook their heads slightly.

“But I do very much look forward to making her acquaintance,” Kristoff said, licking his lips.

Once again, something inherently feral roared up inside Vlane, the intensity nearly making him stagger. He called upon his control, quelling the urge to rip out the throat of anyone who wished to taste her. He had known Armand for most of his life, and Kristoff was like a son to him.

“No one touches her but me,” he commanded, his voice dark and deadly. “Find her, but do nothing more. Is that understood?”

Armand and Kristoff exchanged a quick glance.

“As you wish,” Armand said smoothly, inclining his head slightly. Kristoff said nothing. With his lips drawn into a thin line, he nodded.

“We have a guest list, do we not?”

“Yes. Zarek and his team ensured everyone in attendance had a proper invitation.”

“Then whomever — or
what
ever — that female is, she was an invited guest. Let us begin there, shall we?”

––––––––

O
ver the next several days, Ana scanned the local papers for news of anything noteworthy, but found little of interest and nothing particularly worrying. A car accident with minor injuries. A barn fire caused by reckless, partying teens. A few citations for speeding. By the end of the week, she finally began to relax. Obviously, whatever Vlane Masterson’s heart’s desire had been the night of the ball did not involve mass carnage or apocalyptic destruction. Overall, it had been a very peaceful week in Mythic.