I’m sitting at the bar in Underworld while Cecile and a team of people get ready for the party. My party, I guess, though it feels more like Cecile’s since she’s done everything to organize it.
The DJ stand is gone for the evening, and in its place on the stage a band of faeries is setting up musical instruments. The dance floor is covered with red rose petals, and the whole room glows faintly from hundreds of magically burning candles. She’s even had large white columns brought in and placed around the edges of the room, making the place feel like some kind of ancient Greek palace. She’s really outdone herself.
My mouth falls open when her sorcerer friend turns the ceiling of the club into a clear night sky. I blink up at what appears to be an endless sea of stars and a beautiful full moon. “Wow.”
Beside me, Oliver chuckles. “Pretty cool, huh?”
I shake my head, amazed. “It’s beautiful. And it looks so real.”
Oliver smirks. “That’s the point of the illusion.”
I just can’t believe what I’m seeing. “Magic is cool.” I nudge his shoulder playfully and say, “It’s probably a good thing you don’t use magic. I’d make you hate me, asking you to do tricks for me all the time.”
Oliver laughs, but then clears his throat. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’ve started seeing a therapist about that.”
I peel my gaze away from the sky and look at Oliver. “Really?”
Ollie nods. “Remember back when we were trying to find those missing underworlders, and you got into a fight with Gorgeous about me not using my magic?”
“I wouldn’t call it a fight.”
Oliver’s look turns wry. “An argument, then.”
I concede to that one with a small smirk. “Okay, yes, I remember.”
Oliver’s smile vanishes, and he looks at his lap as he shrugs his shoulders once. “I’d never considered that it might be some kind of post traumatic stress that was keeping me from using my magic. Or, at least, not that it was something treatable. You mentioned you’d gone to therapy after it happened, and I figured it couldn’t hurt. Director West knows a werewolf who works as a therapist for shifters who refuse to shift because they’ve lost control in their animal form, or had traumatic experiences. She figured I’m not a shifter, but the problem is basically the same.”
Oliver looks strangely vulnerable right now, so I place my hand on his thigh and lean my head on his shoulder. “And how’s it going?”
Oliver wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me tightly to him without touching any of my skin. “I’ve only had a few appointments with her so far, but I’m hopeful.”
I give his thigh a pat. “I’m sure you’ll get there. You’ll be the most badass sorcerer in the Midwest in no time.”
Oliver chuckles again, shaking his head softly. His hug grows tighter, but instead of pulling away from him, I soak up the physical affection with a sigh of contentment. It’s getting easier for me to touch Oliver. He’s so understanding and considerate of my condition. For some reason, my curse doesn’t affect him the same way it does others. It’s almost like his he’s not affected, and just cares about me like a normal person would. I don’t understand it, but I trust him not to lose control and hurt me the way others have done in my past.
We sit together in peaceful silence until Cecile glides over to us like a Grecian goddess in a flowing blue gown. “Well?” She looks around the room with a proud smile. “What do you think?”
I give her the truth. “It’s beautiful, Cecile. Thanks for moving the date up sooner.”
Cecile sighs. “It wasn’t easy, but it came together nicely enough, and you had a point. The sooner everyone meets you, the sooner they’ll stop attacking you.”
Or more of them will start attacking me. I don’t voice this thought. There’d be no point. Cecile will still make me go upstairs to her suite and change into that dangerous gown she’s picked out for me to wear. “Let’s hope,” I say.
Cecile gently pats my cheek. “Darling, everyone is going to love you. You’ll see.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Oliver’s grip tightens again as he hugs me supportively. “Your friends will keep you safe,” he murmurs. “Cecile, me, Ren, Terrance, Parker, Gorgeous, Wulf, Rook…we’ll all be here keeping an eye on you. And I promised not to leave your side all night.”
I’m stunned by his words, though, not because I find it hard to believe they’ll look out for me. It’s just finally occurring to me that I have real, genuine friends. I’ve been alone for so long that having so many people who truly care about me seems impossible. But somehow I’ve managed to build a family of sorts. And with a crazy group of underworlders of all different races. They may be supernatural misfits, but they’re my friends. My family.
My eyes mist over, and my voice comes out raspy when I smile at Cecile and say, “Thank you for doing all of this for me.”
Cecile’s face softens. “You’re welcome, dear.” She claps her hands together, breaking the tender moment. “As adorable as the two of you are right now, it’s time for you to go get ready. Oliver, your tux is in Terrance’s private suite.”
The way Oliver cringes at the word tux is hilarious. “Oh, come on,” I tease him. “You wear a suit to work every day. A tux can’t be that different. And besides, since you’re my date for the evening, I need you looking extra hot so that no one will notice me.”
Oliver snorts. “Right. You could wear sweats and throw your hair in a ponytail, and you’ll still be the most beautiful woman in the room tonight.”
He grins, proud of his cheesy line, and yet laughs about using it at the same time. After rolling my eyes at him, I shoot Cecile a hopeful look. “Can I wear sweats and a ponytail?”
Both Oliver and Cecile laugh.
Cecile herds us upstairs, shooing Oliver down to the end of the hall to Terrance’s room. “You’ll come get me, right?” I ask Oliver, my heart suddenly in my throat. “I won’t have to make my big entrance alone?”
“Of course not,” Cecile assures me as she ushers me into her suite. “A debutante always needs an escort.”
Relief floods me, but I still frown. “A debutante?”
“Why not? You’re coming out into underworld society. Is that not what a debutante is?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
Cecile follows me into her suite, laughing her light, tinkling laugh. She’s glowing with anticipation when she sits me at her vanity and begins to do my hair. After curling it into big, loopy curls, she piles all of it up on my head and fastens it with a pearl and diamond wreath thing that can’t decide if it’s a headband or a crown.
After applying my makeup—which she goes very heavy on, calling the eyes smoky—she hands me a pair of earrings that match my hairpiece and drapes a pearl and diamond necklace around my throat. The jewelry is the nicest thing I’ve ever worn, and I’m scared to move for fear of breaking it somehow.
Cecile smiles at me in the mirror. “Stunning.”
I can’t argue. I’ve never looked so beautiful in my life. And I’m not even wearing the dress yet.
She looks me over one more time, then turns her head toward the door as if listening. I’m not sure if succubi have better hearing than humans, but even I can hear the growing crowd mingling below us. “Can you manage the dress?” she asks. “I really should head down and greet the guests.”
When I nod, Cecile grabs my hands and pulls me to my feet. “Wait for me to welcome everyone, and then you and Oliver can come downstairs, all right? I’ll speak into a microphone. You’ll hear me. Promise you’ll wait for me to introduce you.”
I sigh. She’s determined for me to make a grand entrance. “All right. I’ll wait.”
Cecile’s face brightens, and she waltzes out to the room, blowing me air kisses. Once the door is closed behind her, I slowly make my way to the garment bag lying on the bed. I haven’t seen the dress yet. Cecile had my measurements taken, then insisted she surprise me. She had the dress made by a faerie seamstress and said she wove magic into it, so I have no idea what to expect.
The first thing I notice when I unzip the bag is that it’s white. I free it from the bag and gasp as I lay it carefully on the bed. It’s gorgeous. It looks like a wedding gown.
It’s easy to slip the dress on. It’s got thin straps lined with pearls and a low-cut back. It clings to me as if it were specifically designed for my figure. I suppose it was. It hugs my body and drapes from my hips to the floor, and has a small train. The whole thing is covered in delicate white lace with pearls woven into the fabric. It’s elegant and whimsical all at once, and definitely looks like something a faerie queen would wear.
I feel the slight tingling of magic. It’s different from the sorcerer magic around the club and at Terrance’s place. This magic is lighter somehow, airier, like a gentle summer breeze. I don’t realize what the magic does until I look in the floor-length mirror and see the soft sparkles making the entire dress shimmer. My breath catches. I’ve never seen anything like it.
I stand in front of the mirror, staring at the beautiful stranger in front of me, until a soft knock startles me. “Nora?” Oliver calls out.
“Come in, Ollie!”
I turn, just as Oliver steps in the room and shuts the door behind him. His breath catches when he sees me. “Nora…”
He shakes his head as he struggles to find words. I’ve rendered him speechless. “You don’t look so bad yourself,” I say, willing my cheeks not to blush.
Oliver looks as if he was born to wear designer tuxedos all the time. I’ve never seen him more striking. His light-brown hair is sculpted stylishly for once, making it look a little darker. It really brings out the honey color of his eyes. And his tall, lean figure fills his tux perfectly. He’s positively dashing.
“Nora…” he whispers again. “You look…”
“Like I’m ready to walk down the aisle?” I tease.
He takes my hands. I’m instantly filled with his thoughts and feelings. I think he’s choosing to let me hear his thoughts right now because he can’t put into words how beautiful he thinks I am.
His feelings are overwhelming. My chest constricts, and my face heats up. I’ve never felt so adored. No, cherished is maybe the right word for it. And again, Oliver’s feelings ring with a sincerity that no man has ever accomplished. I don’t have an ounce of fear with him. I’m not sure why, or how, but Oliver will never hurt me. Just like with Terrance, I know this. I can feel it. “Thank you, Oliver,” I mutter. My voice cracks with emotion.
His gaze suddenly falls to my mouth. It’s the briefest flicker, but it sparks something inside me. I suck in a breath, and my heart flutters. When my mouth goes dry, I realize that I want Oliver to kiss me.
I’d wanted Parker to kiss me, too, but my chest had pounded with anxiety the whole time. It was as if my intuition knew he was under the influence of my curse and wouldn’t be able to control himself. I have no such fear with Oliver. All that’s in me now is desire. It’s not a lustful want, but a hopeful curiosity. Can I kiss him? Would I be able to without breaking out into a panic attack?
The tension in the air becomes thick. As if Oliver knows what I’m thinking about, he finds his courage and steps so close our bodies meet. I don’t back away. I place my hands on his chest and meet his steady gaze with a shy one. When he speaks, his voice is so soft it’s almost a caress. “Is this okay?”
I can’t seem to find my breath. My emotions are spinning wildly out of control. I can’t look away from him. All of my strength is in those amber eyes. “I’ll stop you if it isn’t,” I say. It’s the best answer I can give him, because I honestly don’t know how this will go down. All I know is that I want to try.
Sucking in a breath, Oliver wets his lips. His gaze falls to my mouth again, and he lifts his hand to gently cup my cheek. He pauses a moment, giving me time to make sure I’m okay with his actions. When I don’t protest, he leans his face down to mine.
Our lips meet in the lightest of touches. His kiss is feather light. He very delicately presses our mouths together. Desire flares through me the moment we touch, and I lean into him, wrapping my arms up around his neck. Following my lead, Oliver slides his hands around my waist and pulls me closer. He parts his lips to make it an open-mouth kiss and hesitantly seeks out my tongue with his. It’s sweet, and delicate, and just demanding enough that it’s breathtaking. It’s a perfect kiss.
And then, without me having to end it, Oliver pulls back. He’s smiling softly, but there’s a question in his eyes. I know what he’s asking, but I can’t answer him. Not vocally, anyway. I’m too choked up. When my eyes mist over, I bury my face in his shoulder. He gently holds me while I try to compose myself. “You okay?” he asks.
I nod, still refusing to let him go, face still buried against his shoulder. “More than okay. Thank you, Oliver.”
His hug tightens, and he brushes his lips against the side of my head. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
With one more deep breath, I pull myself out of Oliver’s embrace and smooth out my dress. I’ve managed to stop any tears before they could leak from my eyes. I’m afraid to look at him, afraid it will be awkward, but when I meet his gaze and he looks at me with such an understanding smile, a weight lifts off my chest. He’s still Oliver. He’s still my best friend. He glances toward the door. “You ready?”
I pull my shoulders back with a sigh and stand up straight. “As I’ll ever be.”
Through the door comes Cecile’s muffled voice, welcoming everyone and thanking them for coming. I know that’s my cue, but I’d rather stay here. Oliver knows exactly what I’m thinking, and he smirks. “You’ll survive.”
“Maybe.”
“Come on. Your public awaits.”
Oliver has to drag me from Cecile’s suite. When we reach the stairs that lead down into the main room of the club, the first thing I notice is that I am the only person in the entire club wearing white. Everyone else is in dark or bright colors. I stand out big time. I’m sure that was Cecile’s plan. The second thing I realize is that no one is moving or talking as I make my way down the stairs with Oliver. All eyes are trained on me, my guests watching me enter with reverent awe. It’s quite the entrance. Cecile certainly knows what she’s doing. “I’m going to kill Cecile,” I grumble as Oliver and I descend the stairs arm in arm.
He chuckles. “Just don’t trip down the stairs, and you’ll be fine.”
“Don’t jinx me.”
Terrance is waiting at the bottom of the steps, with a scowl on his face. He looks me over from head to toe and grumbles, “I’m going to kill Cecile.”
I take that as a compliment and laugh. “You and me both. Stick close by and fend off any extra enthusiastic admirers tonight?”
He grunts, but he’s trying to hide pleasure behind his scowl. He loves playing my surly bodyguard.
Cecile finds me next and greets me with an air kiss. “Nora, darling. Come. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Yeah. I just bet there is. Like every single person at this party, which has to be a couple hundred people. So much for small. I try not to groan as she grabs my wrist and drags me into the crowd. It’s going to be a long night.