I didn’t argue, and instead lifted out the dress and inspected it. It was made of a metallic-looking fabric that felt like silk, the bodice in an old-rose-gold color and the sleeves in a pewter-colored fabric. The flaring skirt was rose gold too, with bands of pewter sewn in at the waist, splaying down the sides, and at the hem. The dress was so soft it slithered through my fingers.
I wanted to find fault with the dress, but there were openings at the sides where pewter fabric met gold, slits for weapons, with holsters and sheaths built in for both my guns and my blades. I thought the colors would make me look washed out, but when I held the dress up to me and inspected myself in the mirror, it brought out the golden hues of my skin. It looked great, even without makeup. Dang Leo. The only flaw was that the dress was one of those stupid side-zippered things.
“Okay. I can do this.” I stripped to my underwear and slipped the dress over my head. It was tight, binding one elbow to my side, then my chin to my chest. Maybe it was part snake. I was struggling to get it on when the door opened and Adelaide waltzed into the room. I say waltzed because her dress moved as if she were dancing and she looked like a million bucks. Dressed in a floor-length dress of pale gold cloth, a shimmery color to match her hair, and wearing jewels that looked like the real thing, she was elegant and perfect, and I was disheveled and off balance, one arm in a sleeve, one arm and my head through the open zipper, the dress off to the side.
“Do not laugh,” I ordered.
But she did. It was a sympathetic laugh, I had to give her that, even as she went to work on straightening the dress and getting my arm in the proper hole and pulling the zipper tight, which made me catch my breath. The dress was totally formfitting and I wasn’t sure that breathing was part of the form. “Shoes?” she asked, and I pointed to my new boots and my dancing shoes. “Serviceable,” she said, “but not elegant. And even the new boots won’t do for tonight and with this outfit,” she said with a cheeky grin.
“You like my boots?” I asked.
“Sugar, I picked those babies out, though I admit that Leo had to make the final choice. I’ll see about ordering you a more dressy pair of dancing shoes. Perhaps several pairs in different shades. Your gorget?”
“My who? Gor-jay?”
Del spelled it for me. “A gorget is a collar made of chain mail. I believe that Leo had one made for you out of silver-plated titanium.”
I opened one of the few things that had made it from my house to the locker room—the black velvet box that held my throat protectors—and latched the titanium chain mail throat and chest armament over my neck. The undergorget was practical: the titanium would stop a knife, some clumsy sword strokes, and fangs. I latched the dressier gold link gorget over it, the one with the citrines and other gems. The set had been a present from Leo to replace the ugly but more functional one lost in his service. I had known from the beginning that it was too expensive for me to accept, but it was beautiful and I hadn’t been able to say no to the shiny gifts, a reaction that was way too girly for me. The layering was perfect with the fabric. The set also fit perfectly into the low neckline of the dress.
“I see why the gown was made in this fabric—to match that stunning, layered gorget,” Del said. “There is no reason why a woman’s weapons should be ugly.”
“Yeah,” I said, feeling stupid that I liked the effect so much. I lifted a hand and touched the gold gems, one that was close to the color of Beast’s eyes when they glowed through mine. “It’s . . . sparkly.”
Del kept her face bland, but I could smell her amusement. “Yes. So it is. Sparkly. All right, let me help you with your offensive weapons.”
“None of my weapons are offensive. Most are kinda pretty.”
Del chuckled dutifully and corrected, “So they are. Weapons for offense?”
“Yeah. I got ’em.” I weaponed up through the little slits in the dress and strapped on the blades and the Walther .380 beneath the skirt. It wasn’t as powerful as a nine-millimeter, but it was the best weapon when faced with potential collateral damage—humans in crowded situations. Last, I added the small box for com equipment beneath the back waistline, pulled the ear wire and mic up, and hooked them in place. There were two main channels on the system, one for blood-servant security and one for my guys. The third channel was a private one, directly from Angel Tit to me. I checked the channels, hearing chatter on two and hearing Angel talking to someone in the background on the third. Satisfied, I looked at myself in the mirror, expecting to be wowed, but I wasn’t. I felt a bit like Cinderella in a before shot. Something was all wrong.