Page 17 of An Acquired Taste

“I am Lord Alexander de Solomon,” he says.

I miss a step and nearly stomp on his foot, but he lowers me into a dip that renders me dizzy. When he lifts me back up, I study his face. He’s not wearing anything that indicates his court, and I would never have guessed from that charming smile that he belongs to the court of secrets. The same as those two men who frightened me in the garden earlier. Of course I can’t judge him for that when he wasn’t involved, but still…

“I’m guessing your chaperone didn’t have the kindest things to say about my court,” he says. “The days of the war are behind us now, but vampires are slow to forget and slower to forgive.”

I nod. I don’t really understand, but Benjamin did say that the courts had a tangled history, and I’m sure that includes old grudges. Maybe Benjamin doesn’t like Alexander just because he’s from Solomon?

Alexander seems perfectly charming to me. He treats me kindlier than just about any other vampire has tonight. As the song comes to an end, I’m reluctant to step away from him. But instead of releasing my hand, he nods in the direction of the bar, mischief in his eyes.

“Maybe we can steal one drink together before your chaperone catches us?”

I bite my lip. Itwouldbe a shame to end the night just as it’s getting good, wouldn’t it? “Just one,” I say, and follow him to the bar. As he gets us drinks, I scan the crowd for Benjamin. He’s caught up in a conversation with a few other vampires but tries to catch my eye across the room. I turn away, pretending I didn’t see him, and accept a glass of champagne from Alexander with a smile.

“Cheers to your first ball,” he says, and clinks his glass against mine. To my surprise, he throws his drink back quickly, so I laugh and do the same. When I lower the empty glass, Alexander is staring at me. I flush; it’s a heady feeling, to be so blatantly wanted. He leans close, one hand grazing my hip. For one mad moment I think his mouth is moving toward my neck, but instead he whispers into my ear.

“It is a shame I didn’t get a taste of you,” he says, his voice sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “But we could—”

“Pardon,” a voice interrupts. “I believe your one dance is up.”

Alexander and I both turn to see a very annoyed Benjamin standing beside us. I’m torn between mortification at being caught in an intimate moment, irritation at being interrupted, and relief that he probably stopped me from doing something rash, because Alexander’s seduction isdefinitelyworking.

I step away from our embrace. Alexander grabs my hand and presses a quick kiss to my knuckles before releasing me.

“It seems you had best go before you turn into a pumpkin, or whatever it is your chaperone fears,” he says with a wicked smile that makes me blush all over again. “I hope to see you again, Amelia Burton.”

Tension hisses between Benjamin and I as he leads me toward the door. I fully intend to give him a piece of my mind, and I suspect he means to do the same. But when I stumble over the step and nearly fall, he grabs me around the waist to hold me up, and his stern expression softens.

“You must be exhausted,” he says. “It’s almost dawn. Come, you can spend one more night at my house.”

I want to insist I can find my own bed for the night, if only for politeness’s sake, but my attempt is stifled by a yawn. My head is suddenly spinning; my exhaustion must finally be catching up with me. When Benjamin gives me an encouraging smile, I rub my eyes and nod.

“One more night,” I agree.

* * *

I don’t remember much of the ride home. Then comes a vague memory of strong, cold arms holding me, and Lissa grumbling about missed sleep as she helps me out of my dress and into an oversized sleep shirt.

When I wake again, I’m tucked into the guest room at Benjamin’s house. I’m lost as to what time it is, and a glance at the window doesn’t help, because it’s covered by blackout curtains. I groan, fumble along the nightstand until I find my phone, glance at the time, and then do a double take. It’s six p.m. Jesus Christ. I can’t believe Benjamin didn’t come kick me out of his house already.

The sweet, sweet smell of coffee draws me down to the parlor where we had our whirlwind of lessons over the last week.

Benjamin and Lissa are sitting at the table with the coffeepot, along with small containers of cream and sugar. Lissa is in a pink nightgown, and Benjamin in flannel, which I would probably make several jokes about if I wasn’t dead tired.

“Please tell me there’s coffee without blood in it,” I burst out in lieu of a greeting.

“There is,” Benjamin says, inclining his head toward the pot. “But I have to warn you that I made it today, so it may not be up to your usual standard.” He glances over at Lissa and gives one of those soft smiles that has resulted in me shipping the two of them together ever since I arrived. “It’s her day off.”

“That’s right,” Lissa says. “Everyone can make their own damn coffee today.”

I grin and serve myself, add some cream, a sugar cube, and then another sugar cube because I deserve it. I take a big sip, sigh, and then rest my face on the edge of the table.

“God,” I groan. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

“It was quite the party, no?” Benjamin asks, sipping his coffee.

I grumble incoherently, still face down.

“You’ll need your recovery vitamins as well,” he says. “They’ll help more than the caffeine, I promise.”

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