Page 422 of Rage

“I do not want to ruin dresses every night,” I groused, pressing my face into his sternum and inhaling a calming lungful of his scent. “I would like to ruin fewer things, if that’s an option.”

“You have not ruined a single thing, Edwige. Not even one time,” he growled, holding me tighter at the words. “You’ve only made them better.”

Hargrave

This is going to be my first and last ball,I groused internally after yet another polite greeting to a trio of simpering idiots that I had never heard of, and certainly had no desire to interact with again. I worked to school the annoyed expression on my face. A pace behind me, in a modest dress that did not suit her at all, Immer was whispering names and titles into my ear as people approached to greet their host before fucking off to the buffet or the half-populated dance floor.

I had to hand it to the elf; she had outdone herself.

Flowers were everywhere, perfuming the air, festooning every rail, brightening even the darkest of corners, dripping over the edges of the tables and around the backs of the chairs. A sea of delicate white tapers burned among the burgeoning greenery, softening the harsh, orange light from the recently installed gas lamps. Life size marble statues, depictions of the maenads as they danced madly for their god of wine and chaos, were arranged around the perimeter in poses that seemed to change between sexual and violent. Each one more arresting than the last, and wreathed in so many flowers it seemed as though we were giving them offerings, and that this ball was actually a religious ceremony.

Everything that could have been gilded was, and it glimmered luxuriously. Beyond the second set of doors, thrown wide open the gardens waited, lit with torches the gargoyles cleaned to the brilliant marble white of the statues, with flowers added into every plant not currently in bloom, so it appeared a second spring had taken hold within the boundaries of my high walls.

I glimpsed Edwige as I surveyed the expanse of my rarely used ballroom. She was radiant in purple; the color highlighting her deathly pale skin and the enchanting shade of her lips, and her nipples, though none of the attendees knew that particular fact.

The flickering candles made her wide eyes shine as silvery as her teeth and claws.

Then she froze, going exceptionally still in the same manner as a great cat about to pounce. I turned my gaze to the entrance, already knowing what I would find when I looked there. A lithe, blonde male stood proudly in the center of my thrown open doors, the candle and gaslit lamps bathing him in an ethereal glow. The vampire must have fed recently, and well too. His skin was dewy, and a blush tinged his cheeks. His scarlet lips were twisted in a smile of genuine awe, his pale grey eyes, rimmed in red, seemed to take in every detail with the wonder of a child.

For a moment, I could understand and empathize with his expression. Immer had created something truly beautiful. The ball, a term that seemed so trite, was spectacular, every aspect of it lush and spellbinding. I searched through my vocabulary, trying to find the right word to describe it even as the vampire approached me. That she had done it for Edwige, a woman she’d barely known, a woman who could be a genuine threat to her, to me, to our entire organization, was astounding.

“There he is,” Immer whispered into my ear before stepping away, and I watched her approach Edwige from the corner of myeye before turning my focus back to the second most dangerous predator in the room.

“Mr. Rutledge.” the vampire said, his voice somewhat breathy, “Please allow me to introduce myself.”

“No introduction needed, Mr. Pavalur,” I replied warmly, taking his proffered hand and shaking it heartily, fighting the urge to crush it between my larger ones. “I am thrilled you could attend this evening. I know the invitations were rather last minute, but once I had the idea, I simply couldn’t wait a moment longer than necessary.”

“Strange, you seem like one of the more patient... business owners I’ve ever heard of,” Gyrhorn replied, returning my warm greeting with a look of suspicion.

“I am patient with my work, and meticulous to a fault if you ask my staff, but waiting for my pleasure is not something I’m not in the habit of doing,” I replied breezily.

“It seems you don’t skimp on it, either,” he answered, leaning towards me as though we were co-conspirators. When I didn’t back away, he seemed gratified, smiling winsomely at me as he threaded an arm through mine, like we were a couple about to perform our afternoon promenade. I allowed the liberty, feeling a thrill at the idea that Edwige would see, would become jealous, and take it out on me later.

“I do not,” I assured him, gesturing to the overstated grandeur that surrounded us, taking the opportunity to lead him deeper into the crowd, closer to where Edwige watched and waited for me to deliver her revenge at her perfect feet.

Edwige

I was vibrating with need. His scent was all I could breathe. It wove through the air to strangle me, to awaken the barelycontained violence that lurked beneath my skin. Glee, anger, and vengeance all roiled under my skin, warming me and filling me to the brim. He was here, the final set of teeth I needed. My vengeance would be complete, their debt of pain fulfilled. Even as I moved to stalk him, slinking through the shadows, I could already see the long, twisting rope of teeth that waited upstairs, so close to being finished. It needed me to complete my work, to take the teeth of the vampires who had done me wrong.

“Edwige.” I twisted, baring my silvery claws as Immer approached me, her understated gown’s train brushing over mine, her hand wrapping around my bicep to halt me.

“Mine,” I growled.

“Yours, he is yours toothtaker,” She agreed, gently urging me deeper into the shadows. “Come to the garden with me, and you can hunt, you darling, vicious thing. Your vengeance is waiting.”

I was done waiting.

The garden was swathed in the deepest shadows, the pinpricks of brilliant light from the added torches searing my eyes, and I hissed, drawing further into the shelter of the branches, uncaring of the roses. I could smell sex emanating from a few nooks and crannies, and the scent irritated me. It diluted my prey. It interrupted the hunt.

Immer had led me to a massive stone gargoyle. It sported a bull’s head, and massive bat wings. Its hands were wrapped around a pomegranate in offering, the cloven hooves buried deep in the damp, stony soil. I wriggled as she worked to divest me of the lovely gown, trying to hold on to my sanity as she rushed through the process, popping off several buttons. As the dress fell, I let my veneer of propriety fall with it, sinking into the feral rage of the toothtaker, becoming her, savoring her need for vengeance.

My claws tinkled against the stone of the gargoyle she’d secreted us behind, my teeth clattering and chattering with glee.I could smell him, I could taste him. I would have my vengeance. I would sate my rage. I would wear his fucking teeth as a goddess cursed trophy while his corpse disintegrated into ash beneath the pink Gallica roses my lover’s gardener was so fucking fond of.

Hargrave’s voice reached me, the deep, rich timbre of it sending a shiver through my spine, making the beds of my claws tingle and my gilded teeth chatter in a flurry of chimes. I crouched lower, crawling forward, skittering around pools of golden light, hunting my last tormentor and certain of his demise.

Hargrave

The faintest flurry of silvery bells reached me, and I had to suppress a feral grin at the sweet, delicate noise.

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