Nancy A Collins-Vamps 02 (4 page)

“He’s a very rich and powerful member of Old Blood society. . . .” Sheila said, as if reciting from memory.

“Yeah, that’s what you
always
say, Mom, but you
still
won’t tell me his name!” Cally replied angrily. “I’m going to be seventeen pretty soon, and I still don’t know who my dad is! Don’t you think it’s time you finally told me? Why are you still protecting him?”

“You know I can’t tell you that, Cally,” Sheila said, her shoulders slumping wearily. “Your grandmother made me . . .” She looked away without finishing her sentence. “It’s for your own good, sugar.”

“You
always
try to put it off on Granny when I ask you about my father’s identity!” Cally snapped. “I’m tired of you blaming her! Granny’s been dead for two years now. You could tell me his name if you wanted to; the truth is, you
won’t
!”

“Cally, sweetie, you don’t understand how it is with your father—”

“No, I
don’t
! And it looks like I never will if I have to rely on you for information! I’m going to my room now—oh, and Mom, don’t call New Bloods ‘newbies,’

29

okay? It’s rude. How would you like it if I called you a
clot
?” Cally slammed the door to her room so hard it shook the entire floor.

So much for the noise ordinance.

30

Lilith Todd walked up the imposing granite stairs that led to the doors of the Belfry. She paused to glance at the throngs of bridge-and-tunnel wannabes gathered on the wrong side of the velvet ropes, hoping against hope that they would be permitted access to the former fin de siècle church, now the hottest club in town. Outfitted in a blush Dolce & Gabbana corset dress and open-toe Manolo pumps, she was the beautiful people personified.

As far as Lilith was concerned, all clots were clue-less, but some were definitely worse than others. Like, really, who would wear a cheap red top and a cheaper black skirt bought ten years ago at Sears out to a nightclub? Not that it mattered, because that tacky little creature certainly wasn’t getting inside tonight, or any 31

other night. Her boyfriend wasn’t any better, what with the long, purple leather coat he was wearing. Did that dude think he was going to a rave? How lame! She put her hand over her mouth, just in case she accidentally popped her fangs while laughing at them.

Breezing past the hulking doorman, she made her way through those who had gathered to see and be seen as they danced, drank, and drugged the night away. She really needed a pick-me-up, and although there were at least three bars on the main floor of the club, none of them served her favorite drink.

As she climbed the stairs to the converted choir loft that served as the club’s VIP room, the ear-hammering dance music dropped down to a muted roar. She spotted her boyfriend, Jules de Laval, lounging on one of the divans scattered about the room, talking to two of his friends and fellow students at Ruthven’s, Sergei Savanovic and Oliver Drake. With his artfully mussed mane of reddish-gold hair, strong jaw, and lambent green eyes, he resembled a virile young king holding court.

“How was your afternoon with Armida and Lula?” Jules asked.

“One’s a short little dwarf and the other looks like a tranny,” Lilith replied, kissing the air beside Jules’s cheek so she wouldn’t ruin her makeup. “Going shopping with them was like watching blood dry, only not as fun.”

“I take it they failed the audition?”

32

“I didn’t say that,” Lilith said quickly. “I’ll tell you more after I get a drink.”

“You’re going to be Lilith’s escort at the Grand Ball, right?” Sergei asked as he watched Lilith walk over to the VIP bar. His eyes were riveted on her hips, beautifully outlined by the blush corset dress she was wearing.

Although he had the deep, dark eyes of a poet, Sergei dressed like a rock star and had the sexual appetite to match.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“It’s against the rules. Debutantes can’t be escorted by someone they’re romantically involved with. It’s some stupid tradition. And since Lili and I are promised, that counts me out. Ask Ollie: he can’t escort Carmen, either.”

“Jules is right,” Oliver said. With his dirty-blond hair and boyish face he seemed as harmless as a puppy dog, until you looked into his flinty eyes. “So who
are
you escorting to the Grand Ball, Jules?”

“It’s up to the girls to ask the guys to be their escort, not the other way around,” Jules said. “You know that.”

“I don’t get it,” Oliver said suspiciously. “You’re telling us that not
one
of the girls has asked
you—
the most lusted-after boy at Ruthven’s—to be her escort to the Grand Ball?”

“You know Lilith—she doesn’t share,” Jules said with 33

a shrug. “None of the other girls are willing to risk her getting jealous by asking me. How about you, Sergei?

Have any of the girls asked you to be their escort?”

“Sort of,” Sergei said, shooting a glance in Oliver’s direction. “It sort of depends on what someone else says.”

By the time Lilith reached the bar, the bartender already had her drink poured and waiting for her: AB neg, laced with bourbon, served at body temperature with a hint of anticoagulant; just the way she liked it.

As she took her first sip, the man standing next to her at the bar smiled and winked at her in what he thought was a debonair opening move. He was in his late thirties, his slightly overfed face flushed from drinking, and he smelled strongly of cologne. Compared to the sleekly fashionable club goers he was attempting to mingle with, he looked boring and old—a stockbroker out on the town.

“Sure you can handle a drink like that, little lady?” he asked, pointing at what he thought was a glass of wine.

Lilith coughed into her fist, trying not to laugh out loud. “Don’t worry,” she said, giving the glass a slight hoist. “I’ve been drinking this stuff since I was a baby.”

As Lilith turned to rejoin her friends, the stockbroker, emboldened by the alcohol he’d been downing, 34

reached out and grabbed her elbow.

“I was thinking—after you finish your drink, maybe I could buy you another one?”

Lilith looked down at the wedding ring on the man’s finger, then fixed him with a stare as blue and cold as ice pulled from the heart of Antarctica. “I’m here with my fiancé,” she said flatly.

The stockbroker saw a blond youth with the body of a surfer sitting on a nearby divan, watching him with eyes that seemed strangely luminescent in the dim light, like those of a jungle beast. The young man had a slight smile on his face that was far from friendly.

“Sorry,” the stockbroker said quickly, releasing her arm.

“You should be.” Lilith sniffed. “Go back to Conn-ecticut while you still can, family guy.” The stockbroker slunk back to his place at the bar, looking glum as he motioned to the bartender for another drink.

“Did you see that clot?” Lilith said as she rejoined the group. “Seb’s really slipping if
that’s
what he’s allowing into the VIP room nowadays. That guy is
so
gross!”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Sergei replied. He eyed the human seated at the bar. “Your admirer is probably headed for the cellar.”

“I hope he’s A poz and drinks scotch.” Jules sighed wistfully. “The only donor the club has on scotch right now is a B neg. Seb swears up and down that the clot’s 35

on an intravenous drip of Glenlivet 21 Year Old, but it might as well be rotgut as far as I’m concerned.”

“So what were you talking about while I was getting hit on by Mr. Wife-and-Two-Kids-in-Danbury?” Lilith asked.

“Nothing, really,” Oliver said. “We were just discussing the Grand Ball.”

“Don’t remind me!” She groaned. “I still haven’t found a decent gown!”

“You didn’t buy anything today?” Jules asked, surprised.

“Of
course
I bought something!” Lilith said, rolling her eyes in disdain. “I found these
really
gorgeous Louboutin knotted platform mules and this really,
really
cute Derek Lam dress in French navy blue with buttons down along the right side, oh, and this really, really,
really
sweet matching blue quilted patent leather Marc Jacobs satchel. I just didn’t see a
gown
I liked, that’s all.”

“Well, as long as it wasn’t a wasted trip,” Jules said.

“You know, I was thinking it might be nice to go back to your place tonight,” Lilith said with a wink.

“Your parents are still out of town, aren’t they? And we had such a nice time the other night. . . .”

“We
can
do that, if that’s what you want,” Jules replied hesitantly. “But—”

“But what?”

“We won’t be alone, that’s all. Aunt Juliana and Uncle 36

Boris are getting their home out in the Hamptons ready for the Grand Ball, so Xander’s staying with us for the time being.”

“Ugh. Never mind! I couldn’t get comfortable with Exo hanging around. Maybe even peeping through the keyhole, for all I know.” Lilith shuddered at the thought of Xander Orlock seeing her naked. “Couldn’t you tell him to get lost or something?”

“Lili, you’re going to have to get used to having Exo around,” Jules said wearily. “He’s my cousin, after all.

Eventually he’s going to be part of
your
family, too, at least by marriage.”

“Don’t remind me.” Lilith scowled.

“I’ve never been out to the Orlocks’ estate in the Hamptons,” Oliver said. “What’s it like?”

“King’s Stone is pretty cool. Exo told me that it’s supposed to be modeled on a castle or something from the Old Country. Uncle Boris had it built from stone blocks quarried from the Carpathians. The place is
humongous
! When me and Exo were kids, we used to play hide-and-seek there all the time.”

“I need another drink,” Lilith announced loudly, holding up her empty glass and wagging it at Jules.

“Your legs don’t look broken to me,” he replied, turning back to his conversation with Oliver.

Lilith’s eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. Typical Jules! One minute he was all over her, lighting candles and giving her back rubs and jewelry, the next he acted 37

like he couldn’t be bothered to remember her name.

Lilith got up from the divan and stormed off in search of a fresh drink.

As she returned to the bar, the stockbroker who had accosted her earlier slowly raised his head and stared at Lilith. The lust that had burned in his eyes was now extinguished and replaced with anguish. It was the look of a man who realized that he’d passed into dangerous territory and had no clue how to get back to safer ground.

“Something . . . in my drink,” he managed to slur as he tried to step away from the stool, only to have his legs buckle underneath him.

Suddenly Sebastian was there at the stockbroker’s side, catching him under the arms before the clot could hit the ground. Although the club promoter didn’t weigh more than one hundred and twenty pounds and wore outlandishly high platform shoes, he had no trouble hoisting the drunk back onto his seat unassisted.

“Andre, Christian—please escort our friend here to the cellar,” Sebastian said to the bodybuilders-cum-bouncers flanking him. “Quentin—what was he drinking?”

“Scotch,” the bartender replied.

“Perfect!” Sebastian smiled, flashing a set of pearly white fangs. “Andre, set our new donor up on a Bushmills IV drip.”

38

“Ten or Sixteen?”

“Start him out on the ten-year-old,” the promoter replied. “I’ll decide whether to step him up or not after he’s been typed.”

“Gotcha, boss.”

Lilith sipped on her new drink as she watched the bodybuilders drag the clot behind the tapestries hanging along the back wall to the hidden door that led directly to the cavernous basement underneath the club. As far as the humans lounging in the Loft were concerned, the staff were merely escorting yet another over-served patron off the premises, but the truth was far stranger—and darker—than anything they could ever imagine.

She wondered if she should hurry back to the others but decided she was still too pissed at Jules. The way he ran hot and cold with her was enough to make her tear her hair. Didn’t he know how lucky he was to have her? He said he hated it when she got jealous, yet it seemed as if he wasn’t happy when she
wasn’t.
There was no pleasing him. If her father hadn’t signed that marriage contract with Count de Laval, she would be sorely tempted to dump Jules’s perfect, sculpted ass for someone more supportive. But who? Lilith had spent her entire life visualizing herself as Jules’s spouse and the next Countess de Laval. The thought of being with anyone else was as alien to her as the concept of sharing.

39

“Lilith, my dear!” Sebastian said, turning his full attention to the beautiful blond heiress. “You must have sneaked in while my back was turned! You
know
you’re not supposed to come into the club without giving me a kiss!”

“I would never forget something like that, Seb.” Lilith laughed, kissing the air next to his powdered and rouged cheek.

“Now you have to tell me how much you missed me since the
last
time you were here! You
did
miss me, didn’t you, darling?”

“Of course I missed you, Seb! I
always
miss you.”

“Hang on a moment,” he said, putting a finger to the Bluetooth earpiece clipped onto his left ear. “I’ve got an incoming. Yeah, Tomás—what is it?
Really?

Where is she?”

“What’s going on?” Lilith asked, her curiosity piqued.

“We’ve got a celeb on the way up to the Loft.”

“One of ours or one of theirs?”

“One of
theirs
. Some hot little fashion model named Gala.”

“Gala?”
Lilith raised an eyebrow. “I just saw her at the trunk show at Bergdorf’s this afternoon.”

“You lucky little bitch! I
never
get to go shopping anymore. I have to order most of my ensembles online.

I would love to chat more, but I have to make sure the staff knows that our little celebrity is Off The Menu.

40

Ah! There she is!” Sebastian said, tottering off as fast as his platform shoes could carry him.