“He doesn’t do parties, mostly,” Claire said. She seemed kind of charmed by Gloriana’s make-nice attitude, which was surprising; Claire was usually more levelheaded than that. “Well, neither do I, really. Oh, this is Shane, by the way. My boyfriend.”
“Charming,” Gloriana said, and extended her hand to him, knuckles up. Shane, who looked just about as overcome as every other guy in the room, took it and shook vigorously. Gloriana looked, just for a moment, taken aback; then she smiled, again. “Very direct, I see.”
“I’m not subtle,” Shane agreed. “You’re very pretty.”
Claire dug her elbow into his side. He didn’t seem to notice. Gloriana’s smile grew wider. “Yes,” she said. “I’m afraid I am. It’s a bit of a curse, sometimes.” She turned back to Michael, who was still treating me like a nonperson, and held out her fingers. “Perhaps you’ll save me from this sea of admirers,” she said, “and escort me to the dance floor.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, because without a glance at me, Michael walked her past me, out to the open area of the ballroom, and the musicians struck up some kind of a waltz. And that wasn’t Michael. It just . . . wasn’t.
She was doing this to him.
As I looked around, I saw it on the faces of the guys who’d been hovering around her earlier—a kind of lost longing, as if she were the only girl in the world. I even saw it on the faces of guys I would have sworn knew better, like Richard Morrell.
It was creepy, to the power of actively sinister.
Claire put her arm around me. “Hey,” she said softly. “Are you okay?”
I was, surprisingly. “That bitch is going down,” I said. “She is not taking my boyfriend for a party favor.”
“Chill—she’s just dancing with him,” Shane said. He was watching Gloriana with that same eerie, distracted concentration, and now Claire noticed it, too, with appropriate levels of alarm.
“No, she’s not,” Claire said, and smacked his arm. “Hey!”
“Oh, sorry,” Shane said, and then looked around. “Right. Michael, not a party favor—how exactly are we going to accomplish that? Because she’s wearing him like a paper hat right now.”
I marched right over to the receiving line, grabbed Oliver’s hand, and said, “Dance with me.”
He gave me a long, odd look, exchanged a glance with Amelie, who seemed amused, and finally said, “If you insist.”
“I do,” I said. “Come on.”
In my high heels, I was almost a match for Oliver in height. The last thing I wanted to be doing was clutching his undead body and twirling around on the dance floor, but I needed to keep Gloriana in sight, and I needed information. Oliver was a two-in-one.
And surprisingly, my vampire boss could dance. Like, reality-show-winning dancing. He whirled me around like an expert, and all I needed to do was pay attention and relax. That was a lot more fun than it should have been.
“Now,” he said, about a minute or so into the ballroom display, “what exactly do you want from me?”
“Gloriana,” I said, a little breathlessly. “I need to know what her deal is. Now.”
Oliver glanced over at Gloriana, who was clinging to my boyfriend like red moss on a tree. Michael looked dazed. She looked delighted. “Ah,” he said. “Gloriana doesn’t like to be alone. I think she’s decided that Michael is her newest accessory.”
“He didn’t want to go,” I said. “She did something to him. I saw it. Some kind of—vampire superpower.”
“Glamour,” he said. “Most vampires have it, to some extent, though we rarely bother to use it. Gloriana is one of the few that has it in strength, and can use it on her own kind.”
“Not cool.”
“Not illegal,” he corrected. “She’ll tire of him soon enough, in a year or two. My advice is to let her have him, rather than risk becoming her enemy. He’ll come back to you. Perhaps a bit worse for wear, but—”
“No,” I said. My cheeks felt like they were flaming, under the pale makeup. “No way in hell. He is my boyfriend, and she doesn’t get to play with him. It’d be different if he wanted it, but he doesn’t.”
Oliver gave me a dark, pitying smile, and bent me over backward. “Are you absolutely sure of that?” he asked. “Because Gloriana can only work that kind of glamour on those who are open to it. Michael’s a new vampire. He’s never been with one of us. I’m sure he has . . . questions.”
He did. He’d told me that, straight up, and now it scared me. “I’m sure,” I said. My eyes filled with tears. “He can’t just . . . take off with her. He loves me.”
Oliver let me up—or rather, snapped me back upright—and glided me backward through a complicated set of twirls. “I’m afraid that love is rarely that simple,” he said. “Or that painless. Ah, look, they’re leaving.”
I caught my breath on a cry and pulled free of him, or tried to; he held on long enough to say, “Don’t get into the middle of it, Eve. The pull’s strong. Michael may not be able to resist no matter what you do.” He smiled, a little sadly. “You may take that from one who knows.”
I yanked my wrist free, gathered up my train, and dashed out the door after Gloriana and Michael.