Page 52 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Four

…and Arion, Lord of the Summer Court, steps through.

Episode 68

Decorating Party

I stumble back.

I knew the birch trees were hiding a magical fairy door, but I didn’t expect the fae lord to be waiting for us.

Bran immediately steps in front of me.

“No need for caution,” Arion says. “You were invited here, after all.”

Some of the light pouring around Arion dissipates and I can finally take in the full sight of the doorway.

The birch trees are the frame, with several branches that bend and curve over one another, forming the archway. Star jasmine and honeysuckle grow around the branches, the white and red flowers seemingly glowing in the dark night.

It takes my breath away, how gorgeous it is. But it’s more than that. It feels…familiar almost.

“A fairy grotto hidden right in the middle of Bramwell Park,” Bran says. “Clever.”

“Necessary,” Arion corrects.

He glances over at me and then his gaze catches on my dress.

There is a moment where his eyes are wide, his mouth slightly agape, and I realize I’ve surprised him, and the realization fuels my confidence.

But then he catches himself and he quickly corrects, teeth gritted, jaw flexing. “What is this?” His voice rumbles and the air, I swear to god, crackles around him, “Is this some kind of joke to you?”

“It’s an homage,” I answer, folding my hands in front of me, trying not to betray the fact that every move I make tonight, I’ve already doubted it twice over. Including wearing this dress.

“An homage?” He scowls at me. Just like Bran, he’s more beautiful when he broods. “An homage to death and betrayal?”

The way he speaks about it leads me to believe he does know the story behind it. He knows exactly what dress this is, and who wore it, and what happened to them.

“Perhaps if I knew the full story,” I say, “I would know the full score of wearing the dress.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Arion lowers his voice as he steps toward me, still half blocked by Bran, “I truly would think you mortal. Only a mortal would make such a bold move without knowing the full breadth of the consequences.” He glances at Bran. “But you, vampire, I’d expect more restraint from you.”

Bran’s eyes flash gold, but he says nothing.

Did we make a mistake?

My stomach spins.

Arion turns away and steps into the doorway and says, “Come, faeling. The party is waiting and you’re clearly ready to make an entrance.” The way he says it is disparaging, not admiring.

I look over at Bran. His face is blank, his gaze unreadable.

He gives me a subtle shake of his head, so I take a deep breath and follow Arion through the doorway.

I’m immediately dazzled by light.

The hidden fairy grotto really is like a fairy tale. Not the Cinderella kind, with castles and mice and sewing birds. The kind you find in books written by Grimm brothers. A little dark, a little magical, a little wondrous, a little eerie.

We enter into an earthen hallway, the walls covered in blooming vines. And at the end of the hallway, a large arched doorway opens to a great hall.

The lyrical notes of a lute greet us as we enter the main room, followed by the high tinkling sound of a woman singing along. A violin jumps in next, filling the hall with music that raises the hair along my arms.

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