A Mysterious Lad

Theo couldn't believe how brazen Darian was being. The crowd whispered and muttered, the bustled woman looked ready to blow a gasket, but Michel Rose couldn't seem to take his eyes off Darian's face.

"A mystery," he said, stroking his chin. "I like it. Certainly, my dear boy. Let's see if we can't get to the bottom of you by the end of this dance, hmm?"

He spread his arms and swept into an elegant bow, one leg extended. On perfect cue, the cameras flashed like stars. Seemed the photographers had recovered from their surprise.

"It won't be that easy, I warn you," Darian practically purred.

"Of course." Michel tossed his head as he straightened, ringlets flowing over his shoulders. "I'd be sorely disappointed if it was."

With that, he reached out and accepted her hand, wrapping his slender fingers around hers with a possessiveness that made Theo shudder – and he wasn't the only one, judging by how Zenith's grip clamped down tight. The rest of the crowd had the total opposite reaction, clapping and cheering while the cameras went wild. All that flashing started to make Theo feel more like he was at a rave than a masquerade.

As Darian and Michel set off hand-in-hand, trailed by an entourage of paparazzi and admirers, Zenith remained clinging to Theo's arm. Beneath the painful pressure of his grip, Theo could feel his hand trembling. Without thinking, Theo rubbed the back of Zenith's hand.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "I'm sure Darian knows what she's doing."

Zenith slid his gaze to Theo as if he hadn't noticed him until now. "Ah. My apologies." His hand slipped away and he stepped back.

Some foolish part of Theo already missed his touch, but whatever, that wasn't the most important matter at hand. "Hey, don't worry about it. I understand how you're feeling, but we have to trust Darian."

"Of course." Zenith sighed. "That's the way she is. Just like you. A liege who insists on taking every burden herself, rather than allowing others to fight for her."

Theo hadn't expected this comparison. Knowing how highly Zenith thought of Darian, it made heat rise in his cheeks.

"You do have to admit they make a well-matched couple," Meg said, observing as Darian and Michel posed for a photo op.

Zenith threw her the closest thing to a dirty glare Theo had ever seen him make. "Please don't joke about this."

Meg's only response was a chortle, which didn't help her case. Apparently deciding she was a lost cause, Zenith sighed again and turned his attention back toward the posing couple. In a way, Meg was right; they did look surprisingly good together, like a pair of vampire princes who lived in a stormy Gothic castle.

But Theo couldn't forget who they really were. Who Michel really was. Victor's presence behind Michel, lurking like a black shadow, made sure of it.

As if noticing his scrutiny, Victor shifted his head in Theo's direction. Once more, Theo knew beyond all doubt that Victor was looking at him.

His heart squeezed into a cold, tight knot. Did he want to talk to Victor tonight? Or did he hope Victor would stay far, far away? He didn't know what he wanted. Didn't know which option would be worse.

~*~

As wailing string music filled the ballroom, Michel Rose pulled Darian into another spin.

To her annoyance, she had to work to keep up. Somehow those six-inch stilettos didn't seem to get in the way of his dancing. If anything, that he was able to move so gracefully in them only testified to his skill.

Maybe she was a little impressed.

With the next spin he pulled her in close, bending down so their masks almost bumped. All she could see were his eyes, covered in scarlet contacts; all she could breathe was his rose perfume. Not the most pleasant of situations, but she kept up the same poker face that had seen her through both battles with wasteland monsters and the Golden Royale's tables.

"So do you feel like telling me your name now, lad?" he said in an intimate whisper, his voice brushing her skin like a silk curtain.

Even knowing who he most likely was, it was difficult not to want to respond to his charm – but that only redoubled Darian's resolve. Some demons specialized in seduction, after all.

So she retorted coolly, "Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?"

Michel chuckled, the soft sounds falling from his lips like raindrops. "How you injure my heart, mysterious lad. Though to be honest, I do find it refreshing."

The music increased in tempo; matching it, Michel pulled Darian through a series of ever more complicated steps. Some vague irreverent part of her wondered just how Theo and Sam were coping with the dancing.

But most of her was focused on the current situation. Never forget her goal. Her mission. "Whatever do you mean?" she whispered back, leaning close as if to taunt him. Her breaths puffed against his throat and he let out a sigh.

"Well, you know...I wouldn't tell this to just anyone, but you're special." He was speaking so quietly she wouldn't have heard him if their faces weren't only inches apart. "It does get quite tiresome living as the walking embodiment of beauty that I am. All these sycophants pestering me like pigeons, begging for the slightest scrap of my attention. So I can't help but be drawn to those who offer something...different. A mystery to be solved."

'Walking embodiment of beauty.' Wasn't someone full of himself.

Darian kept her contempt locked deep inside. Instead, she put on her most winsome smile and batted her eyelashes. "Funny, that's the way I see you too. To me, there's far more to you than just your beauty."

"Oh?" His tone was light. "Tell me, lad, what you see."

With the next steps, Darian drew even closer until she was almost pressed against his chest. Never taking her gaze off his eyes, she whispered, "Beyond the silk, beyond the roses, beyond the beauty...I see a certain darkness. One might even call it...demonic."

Michel blinked, slowly. He pulled her into yet another spin, but Darian noticed that he had missed the cue by a fraction of a second.

When the spin ended and they drew together once again, he wore the same seductive smirk as always. "Oh? And you like that darkness? A lad who prefers the dangerous side, are you?"

"More than liking it...." Darian lowered her voice, leaning up toward him until those blood-red eyes filled her vision. "I would say it enthralls me."

His eyes widened. If she hadn't been so close, she would never have noticed how the white expanded around the irises.

He pulled her into the next spin a little more roughly than before; Darian almost stumbled. And she didn't get much time to recover before his grip tightened around her waist and he dipped her in a smooth arc toward the floor.

As he gazed down into her face, he murmured, "Do you wish to be enthralled, mysterious lad?"

Though she was in his arms, utterly at his mercy, Darian stared back without fear. "Hardly. I'm going to be the one to enthrall you. No, more than that. I want to completely overcome you, Michel Rose."

The music reached a shrieking crescendo. A smirk lifted Michel's lips, twisting the uncannily smooth skin of his cheeks. It was like, if only for a second, a mask had slipped off his face – not the gaudy rose-bedecked one covering his eyes, but a subtler, almost invisible veil that otherwise molded snugly to his features.

And it made Darian smirk as well, just as sharp and savage as Michel's. Or whatever this demon's name actually was.