Page 93 of Fire Dancer
I could sense Deirdre’s eyes on me as I moved in the direction of the wide-screen TV. I made it over to the shelves, but John Lennon was already there — and he turned to me expectantly.
“Wine?” I offered, handing him one.
And, dammit. The escort he’d hooked up with — wouldn’t you know it, a cute Asian girl — grabbed the second glass. That meant I had to make a second trip.
And a third and a fourth, as it turned out, with Deirdre tracking me the whole way. Then, halfway across the room on my fifth try, I jerked my elbow at the fireplace.
Whoosh!The flames doubled in size, leaping and crackling.
Deirdre turned to look. I ducked behind the TV screen and snatched the nanny cam down from the shelf. Sliding back into the open, I made a stretching motion and stuck it on a different shelf, then grabbed the wineglass just as Deirdre’s seeking eyes found me.
So, whew. Camera repositioning, check. Now I could work on getting my ass out of there.
A guest came over to me. A tuxedoed John Jacob Astor type, with the manners and elegance of a bygone age, if theTitanicmovie was anything to go by.
“A beautiful evening, isn’t it?” He gave me a slow look-over.
I inched away, forcing a smile. “Beautiful. Victor sure knows how to throw a party.”
“He certainly does.”
Minutes ticked by in agonizing small talk. I didn’t have much choice, with Deirdre pinning me with a stern look the whole time.
I gulped and did my best to play along, though I made myself as unappealing as possible.
“New to Arizona? No,” I said in answer to his question. “I’ve spent most of my life here. Small-town girl,” I chuckled loudly to underscore thenot your typemessage.
Unfortunately, that didn’t deter him.
“College? Yes, I studied as a veterinary assistant specializing in bovines,” I lied. “I love cattle.”
His interest waned, so I pressed on.
“Just this week, I got to run rectal checks.” I mimicked working on a shoulder-length plastic glove. “I got to reach all the way in and everything!”
His nose wrinkled. “All the way?”
“All the way.” Nodding happily, I sniffed my arm, then chuckled. “Whew. It takes days to shake the smell sometimes.”
He set aside his glass and scurried off. “If you’ll excuse me, I meant to get back to Victor on some important business…”
My flash of triumph died an instant later, because Marie Antoinette and Rob were making out by then. Kissing, touching… Her long hair hid the details, but I could swear she was homing in on his neck. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back with an expression of sublime expectation.
I was pretty sure I’d looked like that last night with Ingo. But, ugh. Thesuck my bloodvariation was so not appealing.
Saanvi was in a similar position with a guy best described as John Travolta gone wrong, and she raked her fingers over his back inFeast, baby, feastmode.
I made for the relative safety of the drinks table but froze a moment later. Another vampire — a rakish guy who brought the Prohibition era to mind — was across the room, talking to Delaney. Make that, crowding Delaney. Running his finger over her shoulder, then along her collarbone.
He tipped her chin up, exposing her throat. She clenched her fists as he leaned in to sniff, then kiss her cheek. A moment later, he took her hand, whispered seductively, and led her away.
Alarms shrieked in my mind, and I took a step to follow — but Deirdre stepped in first.
“She’s doing her job. You do yours,” she barked, pointing to the drinks table. “Serve and mingle.”
I’d never wondered how it felt to be a slave at a Roman orgy, but now I knew. And it turned my stomach.
I took one slow step, then another, thinking frantically. How to stop Al Capone before he bit Delaney? How to get the hell out of there?