AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No one drives her but me,” he says.
“I understand the concern for such a beautiful piece of machinery, sir, but I promise we are nothing but professional here. Your car will be in the best hands while you enjoy tonight’s event.”
“Did you not hear me?”
I have to give the valet credit, his pleasant smile falters only slightly under Sebastian’s icy stare. Still, a flash of anger washes over me, and I come to the poor guy’s rescue.
No one should have to deal with Sebastian Fontenot. “Come on, your majesty, let the man do his job.”
“This car is a classic.”
“Which is why I’m sure—” I squint at the man’s name tag, “—Charlie will take excellent care of it.”
“Of course.”
Charlie’s promise does nothing to sway his royal pain in my arse.
Time for a different tactic.
“I’m about to meet my coven for the first time in twenty-five years, and there is a very good chance I’m going to completely screw it up and embarrass myself. You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”
The jingle of Sebastian’s keys falling into the valet’s palm is music to my ears, and I swear I catch the hint of a smile before he turns and it’s gone, his usual grimace firmly in its place.
Whatever. He will not ruin my night.
With the car situation handled, I take Finn’s arm in mine, and slip my other through Rune’s, leading the way into the party while Sebastian trails behind the three of us, our own personal storm cloud to rain on our parade.
We join the procession of masked guests hovering around front doors large enough to let in a stone giant. The grand entrance welcomes us into the foyer with flickering candlelight and a cascade of pink and yellow roses in bouquet baskets that lead the way.
Francine was right. Elara’s flowers are perfect. I must remember to give her and her green thumb kudos the next time I’m at the shop.
“Come on, boys—the party awaits.” I tug my vampires along eagerly, feeling like I’m floating down the hall and into the main room where I stop and take it all in.
It’s like seeing my dream come to life—literally. As a kid, I dreamed of masquerade balls for an entire week leading up to my birthday, which—of course—was a Mardi Gras masquerade extravaganza.
The real thing outdoes all those dreams combined.
The ballroom in front of me is a constant ebb of flowing gowns in every color, from muted pastel pinks and blues to vibrant reds and yellows, some with sparkle, others with beads, each of them unique and all of them with a matching mask.
The chatter of conversations as I wander around the room is like a gentle hum, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of crystal glasses.
There are servers dressed in black and white suits navigating the sea of people to bring around silver trays of fancy hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne. I grab something from each one that passes.
“I’m going to stuff my face with too much food and get tipsy on too much champagne.”
Rune grins. “I love everything about that.”
Me too.
I continue to wander and work the crowd, eyeing up the offerings on the trays of the servers.
And then I get a better idea—the dance floor.
It calls to my soul and has my toe tapping. I yearn to join the wave of bodies as guests shake and stomp to the powerful trombone solo of a live Dixieland Jazz band, the middle-aged witch on drums easing back in and upping the rhythm.
“Let’s go dance.” I turn to give Finn the first spin around the floor, but come up empty.
Where did he go?
