Page 71 of How to Dump a Vampire

The grand doors of the ballroom feel like a portal to another world, a world where I’m not just Thorn with dirt under my fingernails and a knack for talking to plants. Here, in this sea of twirling silk and whispered secrets, I’m a lady—or, at least, pretending to be one.

“Deep breaths,” I mutter to myself, stepping over the threshold.

The green and black velvet of my dress hugs every curve, making me acutely aware of how out of place I am. Draven’s necklace presses cool and reassuringly against my collarbone, its emerald heart pulsing witha warmth that must be magic. Or maybe it’s just my pounding heart reflecting back at me.

I can do this. I’m just in a room full of vampires who, the last time I saw them, wanted to kill me. What’s the worst that could happen?

Don’t answer that, brain.

The ballroom is a stunning display of opulence and wealth, decorated in deep crimson and gold for the winter solstice festival. Candles flicker on every surface, casting a warm glow over the room. The vampire nobles are dressed in extravagant gowns and suits, their pale skin contrasting with the rich colors of the room. The king and queen sit on their thrones, regal and imposing, while Kira sits with her friends at a table adorned with silver and crystal. Audrey is already on the dance floor with a noble I don’t recognize while Anthony watches with a scowl from the side of the ballroom. How those two haven’t been discovered as a couple by the rest of the court, I will never know.

I breathe deep in an attempt to calm my nerves. The air is heavy with the scent of burning candles, fragrant pine from the decorations, and the subtle hint of blood that lingers on the vampires. The rich aroma ofspices and roasted meats wafts from the buffet table, making mouths water in anticipation.

As I scan the crowd, little flickers of memory dance at the edges of my consciousness. Me, standing in front of an angry mob, their accusations stinging like hornet bites. Traitor, they hissed, and the word clung to my skin, a label I couldn’t shake off.

My feet freeze on the polished floor, and I can almost feel the bite of cold iron manacles on my wrists again.

“Get a grip, Thorn,” I tell myself through gritted teeth, forcing my legs to move.

The past is a ghost that loves to haunt at the most inconvenient times, but I won’t let it ruin tonight. Tonight, I’m with Draven, and we’re going to dance until these memories are nothing but dust. Well, at least until the ritual is started. I wish I had more time to figure out what exactly that ritual looks like. I feel so unprepared.

“Remember who you are,” I whisper, my own reflection in the mirror-like sheen of the ballroom floor giving me a determined nod.

That’s right, Thorn. You’re a survivor, a fighter, and you clean up pretty nice in velvet too.

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter under my breath, casting a glare at the chandelier above as if it’s personally responsible for my racing pulse.

The crystal lights flicker and dance mockingly, refracting light as if they’re in on a secret joke.

“Focus,” I command myself, clenching my hands into fists then releasing them, trying to let go of the tension knotted within. Draven gave me this necklace, this dress, a symbol of his trust and belief in me. I can’t dishonor that with my own doubts.

I take a step forward, another, feeling the swish of velvet against my legs. I’m doing this. I’m moving through a ballroom full of potential enemies with my head held high because that’s what Thorn does. She doesn’t cower. She struts, even if it’s just a well-rehearsed act.

Tonight is about new memories. My resolve hardens like the crust of a well-baked loaf. Memories of betrayal and fear might bubble up like an overzealous potion, but I’ll keep them at bay with a spoonful of defiance and a dash of sheer stubbornness.

“Plus, I’ve got killer dance moves,” I add with a smirk, even though no one’s close enough to hear. “Let’s see you try to frown when I’m twirling across the dance floor.”

The past can lurk in the shadows all it wants, but I won’t let it take the lead tonight. Not when I have a chance to waltz with destiny—and with Draven.

“Thorn, love, are you all right?” Draven’s voice cuts through the whirl of the ballroom like a knife, smooth but impossible to ignore.

Turning on my heels, I flash him my best “everything is peachy” grin. “Me? Pfft, I’m fine. Just taking in the… splendor of it all.” My hands do a little twirl to encompass the grandeur of the room, hoping it distracts from the panic I can feel nipping at my insides like an annoying fairy with a point to prove.

He steps closer, his gaze searching mine. It’s unsettling how he can read me so well. The whole fated mate thing really cranks up the dial on the intuition radio.

“You don’t have to pretend, not with me,” he says softly, his hand reaching out to trace the line of the necklace, the one that seems to pulse with reassurance against my skin.

“Draven, honestly, I’m—“ I start, but the words fade as his fingers brushmine. He’s trying to be my rock, my anchor in this sea of high society sharks, and damned if I don’t want to cling to him like the last life vest on a sinking ship.

“Come on,” he says, offering his arm with that lopsided smile that spells trouble and thrills in equal measure. “Let’s dance.”

The music swells around us—a cue straight out of a play—as we step onto the dance floor. His hand finds my waist, and I rest mine on his shoulder, our other hands clasping together. As we begin to move, something just clicks. Our bodies seem to sync up effortlessly, like two parts of the same spell coming together to create magic.

“Look at us,” I whisper, a laugh bubbling up. “Who knew becoming official would suddenly make us fantastic dancers?”

“To be fair, it’s always been one of my skills, but it’s never been like this. It’s much more natural dancing with you.”

The world narrows down to just him and me, spinning through space as if the ground beneath us has transformed into clouds, but even with the intoxicating rush of dancing with Draven, I can’t fully let go.

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