Page 6 of Toadstools and Vampire Kisses

Jack slants me a grin as he strolls up to my side, adjusting the cuffs on his harvest orange shirt. With his russet blond hair and a blush on his pale cheeks from a recent feeding from our supplies, his choice of attire suits him well. I am aware of how starkly I am set apart from the festive atmosphere with my dark shirt and vest. A look which I had decided would be a refined and well-groomed one suddenly makes me feel like a shadow in comparison.

That should be an effect that I wish to cultivate as I never enjoy drawing unnecessary attention, but I hate that I do not stand out beside my cousin or any of the other males in attendance. The feeling is absurd, but undeniable.

“Dressed for a funeral, Reynard?” he greets me cheerily, and I feel my brows dip into a scowl that comes all too easily when he is near.

“I see you are planning to be plucked like a gourd, cousin,” I return. “Let’s hope that the woman in question isn’t of the mind to relieve you of all of your internal organs.”

He grins affably, his gaze drifting to follow a pair of giggling young women eyeing him in passing. “Touché, though I would think I am far more tempting than a mere pumpkin. I prefer to see my ensemble to be reminiscent of a honey stick begging to be suckled by a lucky woman.” Turning back to me, he raises his eyebrows as I chuckle at his presumption, his smile widening. “You are in a fine mood today, I see.”

“It is difficult to not be amused by an ego and vanity that knows no bounds,” I agree.

“Not vanity… More a tactical decision. Knowing what appeals and using it to one’s best advantage.” A faint look of distaste crosses his faces as he casts another critical glance over my attire. “The old fashions do not appeal to a great many humans. Even lacking allure, you could help yourself by baiting the trap, so to speak.” He cocks his head suddenly. “Is that a corset under your vest? Turn around, let me have a better look.”

He reaches for me, and I deftly evade his hand, slapping it away with an annoyed hiss. “Would you cease?” Glowering at him, I straighten my vest, smoothing it over the corset beneath it that cinches everything into perfectly elegant lines.

“Okay, the corset is hot. I’ll give you that one,” he chuckles. “Now I’m mad I didn’t think of it.”

I roll my eyes and tune out his casual observations about those we pass as we continue to walk through the rooms and halls on our way to the grand ballroom where most activity is certain to be taking place. I am given some reprieve as, upon entering the ballroom, we are joined by the other members of our coven and my cousin redirects his conversation to them. They are content to wander around the room as revelers drift by the midday dinner buffet.

There appear to be small groups tasked with seeing to various decorations, but the entire atmosphere is one of cheer that I recall from the days of the harvest bonfires lit to ward off shadows and specters. My family enjoyed mingling among the humans on those days, and it brings a certain fondness of memory to me as I watch the sheer dark veils being hung and enormous taper candles placed in metal candle holders that rival the size of a half-grown child. The atmosphere shifts into one that feels increasingly magical.

It isn’t until I realize that Jack has fallen silent too long that I notice something has changed. I glance over at him only to find that his face has morphed into the rapturous expression of one on the hunt, his cheeks and lips flushing and parting slightly as his nostrils flare, drinking in the scent of his prey.

Curious, I follow his gaze. There, a young woman with a sleek fall of dark hair talks with another witch with her back to us. Rare violet eyes turn toward our direction, and she stills, her fingertips lazily brushing her collarbone peeking up from a low-cut dress just a shade or two darker than her eyes.

“Dibs,” Jack says, flashing a grin. “Just watch how this is done.”

I frown.Dibs?Perplexed, I watch my cousin stride toward the female.Ah. He is making a claim. Is it truly that easy in this century?

At the way she stiffens and scowls upon noticing his approach, I suppose not. For once, my cousin is going to have his plan blow up in his face. There is a sort of poetic justice to it. The allure, while powerful, is not foolproof, and its effectiveness goes down remarkably against a strong will and mind. It seems that this young lady possesses exactly those things as her scowl only deepens in response to the allure rippling from my cousin. It seems he will have to rely on his seduction skill alone.

How entertaining.Granted, unlike me, he actually has the natural seductiveness attributed to our species, but it is still nice to see him knocked back a pace or two for his boasting. My lips twitch with a smile threatening to spread on my face when the other woman with her back to me turns and I catch sight of a familiar heart shaped face framed with light brown curls flowing loose around her in a silky mane.

I stare, transfixed at the transformation, the violet-eyed witch and my idiot cousin completely forgotten. Wearing a simple sheath dress of pine green that could almost be called shapeless if not for a sash cinching the material in at her waist, I almost did not recognize Miss Durmont. She raises her brows inquiringly, and to my surprise she clasps her hands in front of her and heads toward… me. I must be gaping like a cod out of water from the way she smiles as she closes in. Experimentally, I attempt to close my mouth, and sure enough my mouth snaps shut with a loud click of teeth.

“Miss Durmont,” I manage to greet with her a pitifully stiff nod, “it is a pleasure to see you again. For a moment, I did not recognize you.”

The corner of her mouth quirks. “Ah, you mean due to the trainwreck I was yesterday?” I want to groan at my obvious blunder, but she chuckles, taking pity on me as I grapple to find an appropriate reply. “Don’t apologize. The only time I look like this is when I come home and have people to impress. So I do hope you are suitably astounded by my transformation because this is me at my fanciest, and I guarantee it was brutal getting this way.”

She holds her arms out, gesturing at herself in emphasis, but rather than take another look at her ensemble, my gaze is drawn to the glasses nestled against her breasts. Even dressed up she refused to leave them behind as if she might plan to sneak off and read somewhere when all backs are turned. I blink and snap my gaze back up to her face before I am caught staring at her abundantly soft curves.

“Miss Durmont,” I begin.

“It’s Fran. As you can see, I’m not the only Miss Durmont here and am not even among the most important Durmonts present,” she adds with a chuckle. “Fran suits me just fine.”

“As far as I can see, you are the only one who matters.”

What did I just say?

Embarrassment takes mere seconds to set in as the foolish forwardness of my words finally makes its way up to my brain. Biting back a curse, my left fangs sink down hard into my tongue, puncturing the side of it. I grimace. The pain is fleeting but I’m not so fortunate in that the burn of my humiliation is far worse than the wound.

She peers up at me, her brow slightly wrinkled as I die a small death right there on the spot but then her expression lightens slightly, and I find I can breathe after all.

“You know, I’m not sure if that’s really sweet or extremely weird considering that we’ve only just met.” She smiles, her nose wrinkling in an adorable fashion as she chuckles with a soft amusement that dances along my senses. “I guess it’s your lucky day that I’m a sucker for weird and am settling on sweet.”

She eases in closer, and I straighten, uncertain of her intentions. Does she intend to proposition me here in front of everyone? Jack said that women of this era are very forward and will often take such initiative, but I believe I’m riding the edge of an anxiety attack from not knowing what she means to do as her lips curve into a secretive smile.

“I really should warn you, however,” she murmurs, my gaze focused with complete fascination on her lips.

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