The Devil in Disguise
It was as if the wind had been knocked out of him the moment he saw her. His mind went blank, and a single statement ran through his head.
Breathe.
He'd always known she was more than attractive but tonight… Tonight was different.
He didn't know whether it was the hair she'd chosen to sweep up, or it was that white dress that hugged all her curves in the right places. There was an ethereal glow radiating from within her that made him think an angel had indeed descended from heaven, deigning to walk amongst mere mortals.
She looked absolutely… beautiful.
And he very quickly calculated the dilemma her presence was going to cause.
He turned to Rebekah, "What's she doing here?"
"What better way to distract Marcel than to put his very human new girl in a room chock full of vampires?" she said slyly.
Trust Rebekah to out-scheme him and involve the innocent in their nefarious plan. He was just going to have to make sure that nothing untoward happened to her while all this was panning out. If he had to watch her like a hawk, so be it. However, it certainly was going to pose some difficulties, given that every eye in the vicinity, whether human, vampire, werewolf, was on this unearthly woman whose exquisite body was wrapped in that dress.
As she and Rebekah conversed, he heard that tiny catch in her breath as she asked, "Is he the infamous on-again-off-again?"
His cue to step forward. "He's the brother, actually. And my sister is right, you do look stunning."
He was aware he was staring, but he couldn't help himself the same way he could not help the very nature of his being. And he didn't particularly care. This woman deserved all the attention tonight.
He sensed her getting a little flustered from the increased tempo of her heartbeat. "You clean up pretty well yourself," she said, smiling nonetheless.
"Well, don't be fooled, love. I'm the devil in disguise," he quipped, showing her his black mask.
Rebekah interrupted their banter. "You two chitchat, I need booze."
He offered his arm up to her. "Shall we?" She rewarded him with one of her mysterious smiles, taking his graciously offered arm.
As he steered them to the side, he studied her the same way those expressive green eyes of hers were now intensely studying Marcel and Rebekah by the bar.
"The guy of hers Rebekah was talking about, I'm beginning to think that was Marcel," she said.
He momentarily turned to the pair and stared back at Camille, unable to help himself from smiling at her reaction. "I wouldn't worry about it. Ancient history."
"I'm beginning to think your sister's a bit of a bitch," she commented wryly.
He laughed at the unexpected bluntness. "It's as though she invented the term."
She stared at his face and he found himself gazing at her back, suddenly feeling her warmth. The steady beat of her heart, the rush of her blood in her veins. His senses went on overdrive as this mere slip of a girl stood a foot away from him, smelling sweet, as if she'd bathed herself in honey and oranges.
Those piercing green eyes stared at him, trying to search his blue ones, trying to search for his soul, as if she could read everything that was inside his blackened heart. He had the sudden urge to grab her hand and take her somewhere they could be alone, to discover what lurked behind that angelic façade. He wanted to touch her, to feel her, to mark her, wanted her to touch him, as if a mere touch from this being could infect his tainted and corrupt soul with her goodness.
"Listen," he started to say, but trailed off as he saw Marcel from the corner of his eye headed towards their way.
Stick to the plan.
"Pardon me for a moment," he said, excusing himself. He sensed her confusion as he left, and he felt a surge of the same emotion himself. For a moment there, she'd almost made him forget who he was and what he had to do.