In the Shadow of Angels: The Guardian Series 1 (22 page)

CHARLOTTE

Chapter
Twenty-eight

Aydin had not asked for my forgiveness. He didn’t give me an explanation. I don’t want one. I know why he had lied. They are the demons that chase him, following him around, leaving sorrow in his wake. His actions had caused him disgrace to his family. Abigail told me he was a powerful force, no vampire would ever dare challenge him. Yet, his lie, my lie, shattered that. And for what? Two selfish women he was instructed to protect. There is no anger, I can’t possibly hold resentment toward him. His gray eyes keep Emily’s ghost and our shared secret. I can only seem to feel guilt, Aydin is the one who suffers the most.

I stand between him and Lucius. On one side, I have a dark and menacing male, the other, a light and angelic looking cherub. Both beautiful in their own way. Both look mighty spiffy in their tuxes. I can’t help the smile that plays on my lips, though the glass of champagne and my already light head probably help.

Claudette had insisted on the dress I wear. She even brought the pretty blue stone necklace, saying the dark blue was a beautiful contrast to the light color of the dress. I am doubtful. Every time I move, I worry everyone can see all the way to Christmas. The material is so thin, the neckline so low, I am wearing nothing underneath. I feel overexposed and vulnerable. Except of course, when Aydin looks at me. His eyes shine when he looks my way. I can’t help that my pulse races. I can’t seem to respond normally to him anytime. Though, I’m not sure what this says about me. I know Aydin has been around my entire life, but it feels surreal. I’ve only just met him. Maybe this is what draws me to him even more than before. The tantalizing wrongness of my attraction. He is headmaster, protector, a carnal creature of death and darkness, and I fly toward him a moth to a flame.

“Can you tell the difference?”

I glance at Aydin. He nods his head to the crowd.

People move about, mingling, some are dancing. There are so many different cultures in the room, it is like nothing I have ever seen before. Women wear bright clothes, some men are in tunics and long shirts and loose pants. Some move gracefully, almost feline, through the crowd. Precise steps like Abigail’s. Predatory fluid movements like Aydin.

“I see,” I say, and smile at him

“If it weren’t for these pesky noses, some I would never guess,” Lucius says.

“You can smell each other?” I ask.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Lucius says. “We can smell everything. And everyone. Where they have been and who they have been with.”

I look down to my dress and body. I really hope I bathed well.

“Don’t worry, Charlotte, you smell divine,” Lucius says, nudging my arm. “Like fresh cut grass and a sunny day. Why you mask it with that old dusty soap, is beyond me.”

I look to Aydin, who is eyeing, Lucius. His gaze falls and catches mine. “Don’t listen to Lu. He is just angry that he smells like a wet dog.”

Claudette steps forward with Henri. She offers me another glass and winks. It’s a constant battle to stay nice to her. She apologized earlier, acting like she hadn’t realized she was causing problems. I am, of course, forced to deal with her. I don’t want anyone to know that Abigail has told me of Aydin’s part in my life.

“Charlotte, you look positively scandalous,” she says.

I grin like the Cheshire Cat.
Yes, indeed I do.
Basking in the masculinity that sandwiches me. I smile slyly to myself at the thought. Lucius clears his throat and I remember they can feel my emotions. This is hard to get used to.

“They will be starting the dance soon.” Henri offers his arm, I reluctantly accept and step away from my safe little cocoon. I’m still angry with him over what he said on our picnic. I glance back as he guides me away. Aydin’s face is hard, his eyes dark. He really doesn’t like Henri.

Ashur appears with my mother on his arm. She is taller than him in her heels. Her dress is long and black, seductively elegant. I still can’t believe how young she is.

“You are beautiful, my angel.” Abigail’s smile reaches her eyes, softening her entire face. She cups my cheek in her hand and places a small kiss on my forehead.

“Claudette has a good eye, you wear the dress perfectly.” Ashur kisses both of my cheeks and I resist the urge to back away. His dark eyes glint in the candle light, black pools. “Come Henri, let us make the rounds.”

Henri drags me around the room, introducing me to even more faces. I thought that I had escaped this earlier. Somehow, I find the proper training my mother had instilled in me. Now I know what she had been preparing me for. Their mouths brush the back of my hand, forming kind words and dark smiles.

A small man comes up to us, his face open and friendly. His eyes are soft, and his nose is upturned and short. He looks to be of maybe Italian decent, in his early thirties.

“Salve, Henri, I see we finally get to meet Charlotte.” His accent is smooth and rich. “I am Alfonso, the Sovereign of the neighboring Region. The French air does agree with you.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Alfonso. France is beautiful, I am very lucky to have been brought here.” I see my mother give me an approving nod.

“Ashur loves his parties,” Alfonso says and turns to Ashur. They exchange some small talk, and my mother pulls me back, out of their conversation. Alfonso turns back to me and takes my hand in his, kissing it before he speaks. “It was lovely to meet you. I will see you again.”

Abigail leads me around more, before my head starts to swim. We are in conversation with a heavy set woman who is droning on about her trip to Greece and some catastrophe on her yacht. Even vampires have mundane stories. The crowd of people is intense and overwhelming. I look around for Lucius or Aydin. Out in the gardens, I see Ashur talking to Aydin, who is shaking his head, but he seems to give in and follow Ashur into the Great Hall.

“Come, they are starting the dance.” Henri appears and pulls me into the pool of bodies. Henri drags me toward the center of the room and we move through a line of people to where a crowd has gathered. The lights are dimmed further around the room. Ornate tall floor candelabras stand, creating a small open space. A petite woman stands in the center. Candles flicker over her caramel skin, bringing out auburn highlights in her dark hair. Silky curls fall down her back, glistening with beads woven into thin braids. She is completely naked, a large lapis lazuli hangs around her neck, nestled between her breasts. Shocked, I look to Henri, who is watching the woman intently.

Off to the side, faint sounds start. Slow strums, followed by light picks. It is haunting, an old sound stuck in a hollow chamber. The woman starts to sway, slowly moving her hips, the lapis lazuli strung around her waist, glistens with each movement. Her arms snake up, above her head, as her hips twist in a slow, sensual belly dance.

“She represents the Goddess Nikkal.” Claudette’s breath is at my ear, and I jump at her sudden appearance. “She is the Goddess of fruit and fertility. It is said she was so beautiful, the Moon God, Yarikh descended from the Heavens to steal her heart. He offered her father gold, silver, and lapis lazuli for her hand in marriage. Some ancient tablets say she is the mother of Inanna and Ereshkigal.”

“What is the music?”

“It is an old Hurrian hymn, written in her dedication. It is an ancient tradition, played at weddings, more than likely in hopes that Nikkal would make the wives fruitful and bear many sons.” Claudette watches the woman dance, her eyes darken. “He plays well doesn’t he?”

“Who?”

Claudette motions to the side, past Henri, who stands next to me, entranced by the woman. Aydin sits in a wooden chair, a small instrument in his hands, resting on his knee. It looks similar to a harp, but I have never seen it before. His long fingers pluck the strings, forcing delicate, melancholy sounds to ring out.

Claudette wraps her arm around my waist, bringing me close. I resist the urge to back away, reminding myself we are playing at being friends. “He hates this. Ashur always makes him play at these gatherings,” she whispers in my ear.

I watch Aydin, transfixed by his hands, lost in the echoing sounds. The crowd erupts into a loud applause, and the small woman bows. She glides to Aydin and pulls him by his hand, forcing him up. He nods his head slightly, then walks from my view.

Music springs back to life from a small band that sits in the corner. Flutes and string instruments fill the air, a faster more hurried pace. Drums beat heavily, thumping in my ears. The sound is so loud, it reverberates in my bones. The massive entry doors open and a line of people walk through. My stomach drops and my heart leaps into my mouth.

They are all naked. Men and women, their skin oiled and glowing. Large animal masks obscure each face. Long beaks of birds; feathers like cranes, falling down their backs. There are men in heavy lion masks, ornate with fur and glistening eyes. Some of deer, with tall antlers, some, the slick black of predatory cats. The men and women lineup; there must be at least thirty of them. The scene is dark and obscene. My stomach starts to twist as the music gets louder and they begin to dance. Wild, quick movements. Their bodies jerking, then moving slowly.

Claudette pulls me to where the guests have started to dance again. I look, but Henri is lost in a sea of people. Faces around me glisten, their skin moist from the warmth of the room. Above the dancers, the heads of the masked people start to weave in the crowd. Hands are touching me, lips press against my skin. Claudette is close, her fingers moving over my waist and around my back, pressing herself to me. My heart is racing, the music and champagne making me dizzy.

A face flashes. A lion, almost psychedelic in front of me. I close my eyes and suck in a breath. Hands move under the material of my dress. A man in a panther mask rubs against me, his flesh slick from the oil, grinding his excitement into the exposed skin on my thigh. I put my hands on his chest and shove back. A large male steps between us, their bodies intertwine and move bumping into me. The lights keep flashing, forming a grotesque scene. The male kisses at the panther’s neck. Moans fill my ears. Deep trickles of scarlet slide over the masked man’s collar bone.

My chest tightens, my arms tingle. More hands spin me. Henri stands before me. He reaches out and pulls me forward, his arms wrap around me tight. I am moving in the sea of bodies, caught in a wave of erotic sensations and sounds.

Claudette is at my back now and her hands move over my exposed thigh, now slippery from the masked man. My throat clenches, a veil of black desire falls over me as Henri runs his palms over my shoulders and chest. Sweat glistens over his face. He kisses my shoulders, his tongue gliding over my skin to my neck. I grab at his tux as his hand slips through the long slit at my thigh, under my dress and up between my legs. Claudette’s breasts press into my back, her hands over my neck.

Panic takes hold and I shove back, away from Henri, spinning to break free of Claudette. The erotic scent of warm flesh and sweat fills my nose. My pulse thumps, drowning out the moans of the people around me. My skin tingles, my legs are weak and I push through the slick tangle of bodies, desperate to escape. Tears sting my eyes, Henri tries to pull me back, but I lash out and hit him. His mouth opens as he says my name, but I’m turning and slipping through the bodies around me.

I burst through, finally free, and the cool night air blasts over my skin. I suck in grateful and try to calm the panic rising in my throat. Tears spill out, and I run. Away from the dark carnal desire that snakes out and weaves around my skin.

The lights and flames from the sick feast behind me fades. I stop in the rose gardens trying to catch my breath. Small delicate bushes frame the stone center. A tall statue of a woman with her face in her hands stands weeping, consumed in her loss. The pale moon lightly touches her fingers and the folds of the dress that sags around her ankles. I want to sit and weep beside her.

The familiar metal taste fills my mouth. “Seems like a poor idea. A beautiful woman, sitting alone in a dark corner of the gardens, while the celebration feast takes place,” Aydin says.

“Nice intro, Aydin. Do you always play before the masked humans come out?”

“Yes.”

My stomach roils. He is one of them. I keep telling myself that he isn’t, pretending he is something he is not. The tears start again. I wish I can make them stop, but I’m so angry with myself.

“Henri was supposed to explain what this evening was about.”

“Well, obviously he didn’t.”

“Rather depraved is it not?” Aydin asks, quietly. He can see my tears and feel my anguish. My repulsion at him, at Henri, at them all.

“You would know.” My voice cuts through the dark like a switchblade. I want to leave, but I have to pass by the sick scene to get to my room. He steps closer, but I hold up my hand. “Stay away, Aydin.”

He stands frozen. The air is charged and I know I have hurt him. “I don’t take part in these, Charlotte.”

“Because you can’t,” I say, with more disgust than I intend.

“Not even before.” He moves again to stand near me, but I back away. “Is that what you think of me? That I joined in these gatherings and slithered around like Henri? My hands touching people, under their clothes, without consent?”

I am surprised by how violent his voice sounds. I press my eyes closed and try to push away the thoughts of Henri’s hands and Claudette’s sickening smile.