Page 10 of An Acquired Taste

We both attempt to compose ourselves as Benjamin walks in. He takes one of my hands, lifts me out of my seat, and spins me in place. “You look absolutely striking,” he says.

His presence is steadying, a reminder that I’m not going into this alone. I dip into an exaggerated curtsy. I’m surprised how graceful I feel doing it, even as a joke; before Benjamin’s training, I’m pretty sure I would have managed to fall over while doing this. In heels, nonetheless!

“Ah, one more thing,” he murmurs. He pulls something out of his pocket and holds it up to the light: a metallic pin in the shape of an anatomical heart, colored white and gold. He carefully attaches it to my dress, right over where my own heart beats. “A white heart indicates an unclaimed valentine,” he says as he steps back to admire me. “If someone chooses to offer their patronage, you will wear a black one at your next ball.”

We both know that isn’t going to happen. But still, as I gaze at my appearance in the mirror, I can’t help but dream… and that dream isalmostenough to let me forget that I’m about to be surrounded by vampires from dusk till dawn.

Chapter Six

The size of the grand ballroom is dizzying. Every time I look up at the high, domed ceiling, vertigo washes over me, making me feel like I’m going to tumble right down the staircase. Nowthatwould be quite an entrance to the Valentine’s Day Ball.

The floor is black marble shot through with gold. More gold adorns the furniture arranged around the edges of the room, the tables, the old-fashioned candlesticks, the delicate railing winding around the staircase below us. Classical music from a live string quartet floats over the background murmur of the crowd. Moonlight streams in through a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, caught and amplified by crystal chandeliers to lend a dreamy shine to everything in the room. All of this is so gorgeous and luxurious that it hardly seems real.

The moment our ride pulled up to the driveway of this sprawling Victorian mansion, I knew I was out of my league. Now, there is so much going on, I hardly know where to look. I cling to Benjamin’s arm as we descend the staircase and enter the buzzing crowd

Even surrounded by glamor, most stunning of all are the party attendees—and there are hundreds of them. Vampires and humans alike sweep through the party with perfect poise, on-point makeup, and exquisite finery. Each person I see ismore beautiful than the last, and I gawk unabashedly. If not for Benjamin navigating us through the ballroom, I’d surely be bumping into furniture and people left and right, because it’s so hard to look away.

I cling to my chaperone, heartbeat rising until it’s louder than the music in my ears. My anxiety is going haywire in the presence of so many vampires, but also over a thought that keeps repeating in my mind:why am I here?I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb amid all of this beauty and poise. Even wearing Lissa’s well-crafted disguise of elegance, I’m just… me. Just an achingly normal woman whoreallyshouldn’t have received an invitation to a place like this, and I’m surely going to screw it up somehow.

Desperate for something to ground me, I latch on to Benjamin’s training tip about using vampires’ outfits to determine which of the courts they belong to. As he explained in one of our lessons, there are four prominent vampire courts in the United States, and they’re bound by values rather than blood.

Camelia Court, whose motto is “strength in beauty, beauty in strength,” represented by a dagger piercing a rose. They’re made up of models, actors, and fashionistas.

Vulpe Court, “the endless thirst for excellence,” with a snake wrapped around a goblet’s handle. The artists of the vampire world.

Solomon Court, “keepers of the unwritten,” represented by a skull with a moth over its mouth. They enforce vampire law, and “protect our secrets,” which Benjamin refused to elaborate on.

And Celeste Court, “they who remember,” with the symbol of a quill and crescent moon. The recorders and preservers of history.

Though some are more subtle about it, many of the vampires’ outfits make their courts apparent. I spy dramatic capesdesigned like moth wings, golden quill earrings, and silver snake bracelets. Camelia—roses and daggers—and Vulpe—snakes and goblets—are the two most prominent courts in the crowd, which makes sense for a party like this.

Eventually, Benjamin pauses beside an unoccupied chaise on the edge of the ballroom. A few pairs are already twirling around the dance floor, but the majority of partygoers, like us, are watching from the sidelines. Many of them are humans, blood cards gripped in hand and white hearts pinned to their chests, waiting to be approached by someone.

None of them seem to have chaperones, which makes me feel self-conscious. Yet when I feel him starting to pull away, I clutch Benjamin’s arm in sudden fear. “Do. Not. Leave me here,” I hiss at him, panic fluttering in my chest. Despite the glamor, I’m well aware that I’m prey surrounded by predators, and Benjamin is the only one I trust to keep me safe.

He gives me a sympathetic look and eases my grip off his bicep. “I promise you’re not in any danger here. Just stay put for a minute. If anyone asks for a dance or a bloodletting, please politely inform them you’re waiting for your chaperone.”

I take a breath and try to steady myself. Right. I can do this. He’s not going to throw me into the deep end. This is just a dip into the kiddy pool. And he’s paying me for this, so I better play my part. “Okay,” I say, and force myself to let go of him and sit on the leather chaise, smoothing my dress under me.

“Just a minute,” he repeats. “I’m going to make the rounds and see who’s present. You’ll be fine.” He steps back, pauses, adds, “Don’t eat or drink anything,” and then disappears into the mix of people, leaving me alone.

Watching from the chaise is slightly less overwhelming than being in the thick of the crowd. Once I get over my nerves, I begin to enjoy people watching. I watch two very handsome men spin around the dance floor together as if they’ve done ita thousand times before, and then try my best not to gawk at a man drinking from a woman’s wrist on a love seat across the room. I can’t tell from this distance if she’s his valentine or a free agent, but the sight is more than a little titillating.

It reminds me why I’m here. Why Iwantto be here. I take my blood card out of my pocket and fan myself with it to ease my anxious sweat.

“First time?”

I start as I realize someone is speaking to me, and flush. “That obvious?” I ask, glancing up at the woman who spoke. She’s a lovely blonde draped in pink tulle, with a white heart indicating that she’s an unclaimed valentine.

“You’re staring,” she says. Her smile has a mean edge. Then she glances at my blood card, clutched tightly in one hand, and gestures. “Do you mind?”

“Oh… no?” I hold it out to her.

“Lord BenjaminAcharya?” she reads, frowning. “Your chaperone doesn’t even belong to a court?”

“No…” I resist the urge to snatch back the fan before she continues on to the tasting notes I’ve already memorized. Her eyebrows lift as she reads them to herself: “Lively and intense; a unique flavor for a refined palate.” She glances at me, lips curling in a smirk. “That’s… interesting.”

Before I can take the card back, she turns and gestures to another hopeful-valentine. He walks over and peers over her shoulder, huffing a laugh as he reads my blood card.

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