Inferno (7 page)

“Put this on. We’re going out.” Dante opened the garment bag and a swirling mass of fabric drifted out over his arms. It spilled to the foot of the bed where he spread the fabric before setting it down. When it settled, Megan realized it was a deep emerald ball gown—the kind she’d imagined in fairytales but had never seen in real life. It was something out of another era.

“You’re kidding, right? Where do people actually wear something like that?”

“At an honest-to-goodness vampire ball. I hope you know how to waltz.” The devilish smile that accompanied his words made her tummy flip.

“No way.”

“Way. Get dressed, tiger. If you’re good, I’ll teach you how to promenade old school.” He went out the door, grinning as he closed it behind him.

Megan wouldn’t miss a chance like this for the world, regardless of the miserable duty she had to fulfill. She’d always been fascinated by the gentility of past centuries and couldn’t pass up the chance to dress in a silk gown and go to a ball with a man who had probably waltzed in the ballrooms of the
haute ton
.

The dress was a dream, and it fit her like a glove. Dante had no doubt guessed at her size, and he was a very good guesser. Of course, a sexy man who’d lived for centuries no doubt picked up a thing or two along the way about women’s clothing. She’d bet he’d undressed more than a few women in his many years.

The thought rankled but nothing could dampen her spirits once she got a look at herself in the gorgeous silk gown. She felt like Cinderella at the ball. She’d never worn anything so exquisite.

She twirled and giggled like a schoolgirl only composing herself before she went out the door and descended the grand staircase.

Dante waited for her at the bottom, a long, slim, black velvet box in his hands. Her breath caught at the look in his eyes when he saw her dressed in the gown he’d selected for her. She floated down the stairs to stand before him.

“You are a vision, my dear.” He bent over her hand, kissing her knuckles. “It only needs one thing to complete the look.”

He opened the box, presenting her with it. She gasped at the rainbows of light twinkling in reflection off a myriad of diamonds and emeralds. There was a necklace, earrings and a bracelet.

The exquisitely matched set had the look of antiquity.

“They’re beautiful.” Her voice was breathy and hushed as he lifted the bracelet from the box to drape around her wrist. He fastened the catch and then moved behind her to do the same with the necklace.

She’d put her hair up for the occasion so only a few loose tendrils of her hair teased her neck.

Dante blew them out of his way with a soft breath that made her shiver. The platinum of the necklace was cool against her neck but warmed rapidly, as did her entire body with Dante so close.

“Put on the earrings.” He handed her the old fashioned dangles as he stepped around to look at her. She complied while he watched, the fire in his eyes making her breathless. “I was right,” he said as she fastened the second earring and faced him. “Emeralds suit you, Megan. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

She didn’t argue though she was certain she didn’t look
that
good. Oh, she admitted she looked better than she ever had. She cleaned up well for a half-breed wolf. There was no doubt in her mind though, wherever he was taking her, other women would be lined up for his attention.

He was dashing in white tie and tails. He looked as if he’d been born to model formal wear, and she had to keep reminding herself that he was just a job. There could be no future in anything between them. She had to do her work, report back to her keeper and then she would be free to go on her way.

“So where exactly are we going?” She needed to bring this dazzling moment to an end and focus on her objective.

“Even I have to dance attendance on the Mistress from time to time. She rules this area and when she issues an invitation, it is always wiser to accept than to decline.”

“Mistress? Not Master? I thought your kind had Masters in every region.”

“In rare instances, women hold the office. Because the position is won by prevailing in combat, few women have the stomach for being constantly sized up and challenged at the first sign of weakness, or the desire to even try to keep the rest of us in line.”

“So what is this Mistress like?”

“The New York Mistress is an exceptional female with a keen mind for political intrigue. I’d say she thinks her job is fun, having met her a few times in the past. She has a somewhat perverse sense of humor.” Dante seemed amused by his own words.

He let her precede him out the door to a waiting stretch limousine. Duncan was nowhere to be seen, so she assumed he hadn’t been invited. For that matter, she hadn’t been invited. She surmised from their clothing that she was the obligatory date for whatever social occasion demanded formal attire from a century past.

The limo took them to a downtown edifice that had once been a church. Not just a church but something only a little less grand than a full-fledged cathedral. This place had gargoyles on the battlements and carvings of all kinds gracing its stone walls. Even from a distance, Megan could sniff out the fact that not all the gargoyles peering over the crowd were made of stone.

Shivers coursed over her spine when they entered through massive carved wood and steel doors into a cavernous vestibule. They didn’t get far before an officious man with a list spoke to Dante.

He looked down his nose at Megan until he got a good look at her, then his expression changed.

It was almost comical how he reacted once he realized she was
were
.

The majordomo—that’s what she assumed his function was—was a vampire. The shiver returned when Megan realized she was literally surrounded by vamps of every description, all staring at her as they paused in the vestibule before being announced. The majordomo’s counterpart stood at the entry to the main room, announcing each couple or singleton who passed under his watchful eye.

It was like something out of a novel. Megan had never seen the like before, and she marveled at the way these vamps revived the traditions of a century ago and made them seem perfectly normal. For many of them, she realized, this was once the way they had really lived. It boggled the mind.

Dante kept a tight hold of her hand, secure in the crook of his arm as they moved closer to the herald who would announce them to the larger room. Megan could hear the sound of many voices, the clink of glasses and the low murmur of stringed instruments being tuned to concert pitch at the far end of the massive structure.

“What is this place?” she dared whisper to Dante as they waited to be announced.

“Well, as I’m sure you can see, it used to be a church, but even houses of worship fall on hard times once in a while. The Mistress bought it and renovated it, removing most of the pews and polishing the marble. She apparently got the idea from a nightclub in the Village. The owners of the nightclub gutted the old church they bought and put in separate floors for different kinds of music. This place is pretty much the way it was, except for making room for dancing and removing the altar, replacing it with a much larger stage area. That’s where the orchestra for tonight will be seated I believe.”

They neared the door, and she got her first look inside. Vaulted ceilings capped off a truly magnificent structure that still held all the trappings of a house of worship. The Stations of the Cross graced the walls, and the stained glass windows depicted various scenes in the lives of famous saints. The pews were mostly gone. The only wooden benches left were along the sides and back of the room and had been polished until they shone with a high luster. At the front, there were luxurious tables set up with cushy chairs. In front of that, on the raised area where the altar would have been, there was a full orchestra seating arrangement with a few musicians already seated, tuning their instruments.

Behind the tables was a large open area with polished marble floors that gleamed in the gently flickering light of chandeliers that had candles in them, floating overhead at intervals. Servants in livery stood here and there around the walls, ready to assist with whatever the revelers might want. Wine flowed in fountains on several tables, but only a token display of finger food graced one table near the back.

“It’s magnificent,” she breathed as they stood in the center of the great arched doorway. The herald announced them and many heads turned. Megan felt conspicuous and very, very mortal all of a sudden.

“Be brave little wolf,” Dante murmured just within her range of her hearing. “I’m a newcomer.

It’s only natural they’re curious. Especially when I bring such a lovely
mortal
companion into their midst. Trust me, you’ll come to no harm tonight. Not if I have anything to say about it. On that you have my word of honor.”

He squeezed her arm reassuringly and she felt better, though she would have been loathe to admit it. Dante was a job to her. That’s all he
should
be, but things were getting very complicated very fast, and he was too appealing for her peace of mind.

They walked into the room and Dante snagged two glasses of wine, giving one to Megan. She took a bracing sip, noting there were no other refreshments being offered. Why would there be?

The majority of guests didn’t eat or drink anything except wine and blood. Megan would pass on the latter, though her inner wolf had never turned up her nose at the blood she shed while hunting.

Megan looked around the room, impressed by the opulence they’d managed to reproduce in what had once been a more utilitarian building. The arched ceilings lent their imposing height to the grandeur of the place and long silken wall hangings, priceless tapestries and other
objets d’art
turned the former place of worship into a distinctive hall for gatherings and amusement.

The orchestra began to play, and a few couples danced in the large area set aside for it. More joined in, and they performed dances from another era she’d never seen outside Jane Austen films. The dancers performed perfectly in formations that were too complex for her to follow.

The scene fascinated and enchanted her.

“So what do you think?” Dante murmured in her ear.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you for inviting me here tonight. This is something I never thought to see.”

“It is kind of interesting, I suppose, in a vintage sort of way.”

“Oh, come on. This may be old hat to you, but this is like something out of a dream for me.

Every girl grows up dreaming about going to a ball like Cinderella.” She fingered his bow tie with a challenging smile. “This is my chance, and your ennui isn’t going to ruin it for me.” Dante laughed, and she felt it down to her bones. He was so sexy when he smiled. Her heart did a little flutter before she could stop it.

“All right, Cinderella. Tonight’s your night. I’ll try not to ruin it for you.” He took the half-finished glass of wine out of her hands and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter, then grasped her hand. “Would you do me the honor of sharing this dance with me, princess?” Oh, she wanted to, but the set that was just ending was some old dance pattern she didn’t know.

She looked with longing to the dance floor and didn’t notice Dante swooping in to whisper in her ear until his hot breath blew past her sensitive whorls.

“The next dance is a waltz. You know the steps to that, I’m sure. Don’t worry. I’m an excellent lead, or so I’ve been told.”

“I bet.”

He tugged on her hand and led her toward the floor, reeling her in to stand opposite him at just the perfect distance. She looked into his eyes, mesmerized by the way he looked at her. The music started and the strains of her favorite waltz—the Blue Danube—wafted to the heights of the vaulted ceiling.

Then Dante began to move. He was a wonderful dancer. Built like a warrior, he nevertheless danced like a prince, guiding her around the room among the swirling dancers, her skirt billowing behind her. Megan noted the attention they drew as they whirled across the dance floor but paid it no mind. This moment was too perfect to ruin with worries about what other people thought.

Dante drew her closer in his arms as the waltz progressed, closing the distance between them in a way that would have been considered scandalous a century past. She finally understood why.

The feel of his thick muscles rubbing against her body whenever they touched sent her pulse spiraling nearly out of control. Her steps matched his perfectly. Her panting breath came in time with his. They were one for that short space in time, a matched set, moving together with one purpose.

And then the music ended.

Megan was left staring into Dante’s eyes, her thoughts whirling, her senses in an uproar. Dante returned her attention until his elbow was jostled by a couple positioning themselves on the floor for the next dance.

He bowed to her in a courtly way, taking her hand and leading her from the floor. When they reached a spot along the wall where a champagne fountain flowed, he paused to collect two glasses of the sparkling wine, handing her one.

“Thank you for the dance, princess. You are without doubt the most graceful partner I have ever claimed.”

Megan felt a flush rising to her cheeks even though she suspected his words were more teasing than truth. She declined to answer, sipping her champagne and looking around at the other people in the room. The abundance of diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds was astounding, not to mention the ladies’ beautiful gowns and the men’s hand tailored suits. This was the
haute
ton
reborn. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say it had never died. Not for these people.

One woman stood out among the crowd. She wore a stunning silk dress with a slight Japanese air to its lines. Her eyes tilted exotically, displaying bone structure that indicated she was the result of the mixture of more than one race. She was exquisite. From her upswept silky black hair to the diamonds dripping around her throat, she was every inch the lady and Megan found it difficult to look away. She was fascinating.