Chapter-50 A Girl On Display

The Velvet Veil was alive with a heartbeat of its own.

Heavy, intoxicating music throbbed through the walls, the bass so deep it felt like a pulse echoing beneath Frederique's skin. Velvet curtains lined the walls, deep crimson and black, absorbing the dim, golden candlelight flickering from the ornate candelabras overhead. The air was thick with perfume... sweet florals, spices, and something sharper, cloying, making her head swim the longer she stood still.

It was beautiful. Opulent. But there was something wrong in the beauty.

Frederique perched near the second-floor balcony, looking down at the main floor. She was supposed to be observing. That was the mission... no fights, no action, no feeding.

Just watch and learn.

Do nothing.

It sounded so simple when the Director said it. But doing nothing was harder than expected. The hunger coiled tight in her stomach, thrumming beneath her skin like a second pulse. Frideria wasn't whispering tonight... no words, just presence. A quiet gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.

There was too much emotion here.

Lust. Desire. Greed. The emotions rolled off the patrons like heat waves, clashing and swirling, seeping into her skin.

I need to focus.

Frederique's fingers tightened on the railing as she scanned the crowd below. It was late now, and the Veil had filled with all kinds of people. Some wore elegant masks, the kind meant to tease, others showed their faces proudly, drinking from crystal glasses and laughing in dark corners. Courtesans mingled gracefully, some dancing, others whispering with their chosen clients.

Selora and Lira had drifted off somewhere into the crowd. For all her teasing, Lira had melted into the environment perfectly, tail swaying lazily behind her as she charmed a group of humans into paying for another round. Selora had gone the opposite direction... silent, keeping her distance.

That left Frederique alone.

A mistake.

The first man approached before she even realized he was there.

"Good evening," a voice purred close to her ear.

Frederique turned too fast, startled, pulse spiking.

The man was tall, older than her, with slicked-back hair and a face sculpted for charm. His black suit fit perfectly, silver cufflinks glinting when he extended a hand.

"You're far too beautiful to be alone up here," he said smoothly, his fingers brushing the back of her knuckles.

She didn't take his hand.

"I'm not interested," she replied, voice steady despite the churn in her stomach.

The man smiled, but it didn't quite reach his pale eyes.

"I was only being polite. Surely you don't mind a bit of conversation?"

Her skin crawled. He's playing.

The hunger stirred... Frideria noticed him.

Not as a threat.

As prey.

Frederique inhaled sharply and stepped back, shaking her head.

"No. Excuse me."

The man didn't follow. Not immediately. But his eyes lingered as she walked away, tension coiling tighter beneath her ribs.

She barely made it five steps before the next one appeared.

This time, a woman.

A courtesan, or so it seemed... her scarlet dress hugged her figure too perfectly, her smile warm and inviting. Curled auburn hair framed her face, and her eyes glittered with something both playful and sharp.

"You're new," the woman said softly, leaning close. Her perfume was overwhelming, floral with a bitter undertone that made

Frederique's stomach twist harder.

"Yes," she replied flatly.

The woman tilted her head.

"No need to be so stiff, sweetheart. You can relax here. Let me help you with that tension..."

Her hand drifted toward Frederique's wrist, and this time she reacted faster.

Frederique caught her by the wrist... gently, but firmly enough to stop the touch.

"I'm fine. Please... leave me alone."

The woman's smile remained, but her eyes narrowed slightly. Then, with a soft laugh, she pulled back, trailing her fingers along the velvet curtain as she left.

Frederique exhaled shakily.

This was a mistake. I shouldn't be here alone.

The hunger whispered louder now. It wasn't words... just need.

But they kept coming.

A younger man next. Handsome, but his eyes flicked toward her neckline too often, voice dripping with poorly concealed hunger.

Then another woman... older, graceful, but her words were colder, more invasive. Then a drunk, stumbling over his words but still reaching for her arm.

All different.

But all the same.

Frederique felt the tension mounting with every encounter.

The hunger liked it.

It wasn't just the emotions... Frideria felt something else.

Something primal.

They're touching us.

Invading.

Each time, it left a residue.

Not quite fear.

Not quite anger.

But wrong.

She had to get out.

Frederique retreated toward the far corner of the balcony, pressing her back against the cool glass wall.

Breathing. Counting. Control it.

And then...

A hand grabbed her wrist.

Tight.

A voice, slurred. Male. Close.

"Hey, don't be rude now, I..."

She didn't think.

Frideria surged.

The man's wrist twisted sharply in her grip, and he yelped in pain as Frederique's strength flared... more than human, just for a second. His eyes widened, but before he could cry out, she let go, shoving him back a step.

"Do not touch me."

The hunger screamed, thrilled.

The man stumbled back, clutching his wrist, face pale as he backed away into the crowd.

Frederique's heart pounded. Her hands trembled... but not from fear.

From restraint.

From denying Frideria.

A shadow stirred nearby. Selora. Watching from the lower floor now, eyes sharp, but she didn't move to intervene.

Good. She didn't see everything.

Frederique exhaled, steadying herself. The music swelled louder, masking the rapid beat of her heart.

She could still feel their eyes on her.

The night wasn't over yet.