Something felt … wrong. My heartbeat palpitated strangely. I moved my hand to rub my chest.
Just as I touched the fabric of my gown, my heart altogether stopped.
Flat lining. I was flat lining.
I stumbled. Fell. I choked on my breath as my chest seized up.
No one was coming back here. This section of Bishopcourt was too private. Not even Andre would venture this way, not until our connection did something funky, and it hadn’t—yet.
A burning pain spread through my body. My eyes fluttered and black spots clouded my vision.
I pounded my fist on my chest. Nothing. The spots that danced in front of me were spreading. I pounded again.
After a moment, my heart thumped once … then twice. Slowly, the spots dissipated as my heartbeat fell back into rhythm.
I leaned against the wall and caught my breath. A body doesn’t run properly with a sluggish heartbeat. Mine was no exception.
I stayed there, catching my breath, for another five minutes, and then, shakily, I rose to my feet.
I wiped the cold sweat off my brow and resumed walking haltingly towards the ballroom.
As soon as people caught sight of me, conversations escalated, eyes lingered. I’d been infamous, hated, and now I was intriguing. Andre de Leon’s soulmate, the devil’s consort. The anti-Christ.
Some of those nearest me flared their nostrils as I passed, and I could see their pitying glances in my periphery. The smell of sickness clung to me.
Across the room Andre caught my eye. I sucked in a breath at the sight of him.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen Andre in a tux, but his appearance always left me speechless. He cleaned up nicely.
He smiled at me, the action crinkling the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and pressing in the skin of his cheeks. He had no idea I’d collapsed outside his room mere minutes ago.
A wicked gleam entered his eyes as his gaze moved over me, and I could practically feel him mentally undressing me across the room.
Keeping it classy, that one.
“Yoo-hoo! Penelope—er, crap, I mean Persephone—doomsday princess!”
My gaze drifted towards the speaker, but then Andre patted the shoulder of the man he was talking to and began to prowl my way. Totally not going to miss that walk. There are only so many times I could openly check out this man’s stride, and this might be one of my last.
“She’s ignoring me. Yo, Queen of the Damned!”
My attention turned back to the voice, which belonged to a certain fairy with ice blond hair and extra-sparkly skin. Next to him Leanne waved at me, grinning like an idiot. Judging by their appearances, the two of them had gotten their party on elsewhere and brought it here.
I laughed at the sight of them, the heavy cloud hanging over me temporarily lifting. I pushed through the throngs of people, nodding and giving guests cordial smiles, to get to my friends.
They both latched onto me. “I am higher than a kite,” Oliver said.
“Proud friend moment,” I said sarcastically.
“Blame her!” he pointed to Leanne. “She thought it would be fun to pregame your wedding.”
When my eyes met Leanne’s she giggled, but then her smile faltered.
Somehow she knew. Even though the seer’s shroud was still in my system, she must’ve foreseen something—maybe someone else’s future—and pieced it together. I’d bet money she drank to escape the vision, or to pretend it all away. And Oliver, being Oliver, hopped right onboard with 110 percent enthusiasm.
“Not a wedding, Oliver,” I said, turning back to the fairy. Leanne’s haunted eyes couldn’t scare me any longer because I already knew.
“Pfft. As if you are not going to christen that bed of yours later tonight.”
I ducked my head. “Oliver—ssssh.”
Oliver pointed to me. “Ha! Haven’t lost my touch.” He buffed his nails on his suit. “I can still make you embarrassed like a little schoolgirl.”
“Up until about a week ago I was a schoolgirl.”
“Up until about a week ago you were also a vir-gin!” His voice rose at the end of the statement, and nearby guests swiveled at the sound, raising their eyebrows when they saw me.
“Where is that slice of sex pie?” Oliver stood on tiptoes and peered over the crowd. “Oh, oh! I see him! Crap, he’s walking away.”
Hoofing it out of Oliver’s vicinity most likely. Smart vampire.
“Mmm, hubba hubba,” he said. “’Dat ass.”
I put my forehead in my hand. Sober Oliver was a handful. Smashed Oliver was insane.
“Hey, I think he flipped me off.” Oliver pouted.
“That’s because he can hear you.”
“I paid him a compliment.”
Leanne snorted. “You were objectifying him,” she said. “There’s a difference.”
“Ugh, I swear you gave up fun-ness along with pettiness. Now when is this party going to start? I’m bored.” Oliver glanced around, only stopping to do a double take when his eyes landed on a vampire standing close by.
“Whoa, is that blood?” he asked the vampire loudly, pressing in way too close to peer into the man’s drink.
The vampire curled his upper lip and let out a slight hiss.
“Whoa,” Oliver held his hands up, “no offense meant. That’s, you know, … chic … in like an emo-hispter-gothy-creepy way …”
Oliver continued to talk, and I used the moment to pull Leanne aside.
Our eyes met, and the lightness of Oliver’s company fell away.
“I know about tonight,” I said softly, though my words weren’t necessary.
Remorse shone in her eyes. “I foresaw the evening play out earlier,” she admitted. Save for the devil himself, she was the only person who knew what would happen to me tonight. She’d be the only person I’d get a real goodbye with.
I hauled her in for a hug. We clasped each other tightly.
Pulling away, Leanne drew in a ragged breath. “For the record, I’ve never had a female best friend until I met you. And … it’s been really great.”
I laughed even as I sniffled. “So great.”