“Would you care to dance, my lady?”
Connor’s voice barely breaks through my focus, and I jerk my head up to look at him. His crooked smile and sunshine eyes don’t have the calming effect on me they usually do. Nothing could unwind the knot of tension in my gut right now.
I want to wave him off impatiently so I can keep watching Nathan, but I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t go over well. Even if he doesn’t take offense to it—which, knowing Connor, he probably wouldn’t—I know other vampires are waiting for their chance to get to me. So I lift my hand for him, meeting his eyes briefly. I think I smile at him, but honestly, I’m not sure.
We move to the dance floor. He’s chatting away about something as usual in his deep, warm voice, but I’m not paying attention. I make the right noises at the right places, I think, but I have no idea what he’s talking about. Not a single word makes it past my inner ear.
The brunette vampiress finishes and keeps a possessive hand on Nathan’s shoulder. I’m sure all of the attention would be flattering, if she wasn’t about to kill him. Nathan looks miserable. He shouldn’t look so unhappy right after being fed from. If she was pouring sensuality into her kiss, it should have triggered that feeling of ecstasy that I’m way too familiar with by now—but if he’s too drained, maybe it doesn’t matter. Blood magic doesn’t work without blood.
The brunette waves at someone across the room. As soon as her hand is off Nathan, the blonde is on his lap. Jesus, she’s fast. I didn’t even see her move. She takes the other side of his neck. There’s a gray hue to his skin now, and a damp sheen across his forehead.
“Hey.” Connor’s voice is gentle, and it breaks through the rushing sound that fills my ears. “You’ve stepped on my foot like four times.”
“Sorry,” I mutter.
Dammit, where did the brunette go?
There she is, not more than a dozen steps away from Nathan. She’s glaring at the blonde, but her mouth is smiling as she chatters away with whoever she’s talking to. Is she going to go back in again once blondie finishes up? They really will fucking kill him.
“Oh it’s fine, nothing an amputation won’t fix.”
“Good,” I say absently.
The blonde has stopped, but I still can’t breathe. She’s grinning over my brother’s shoulder at the brunette. Nathan’s forehead is on her shoulder, but I don’t think it’s a sexual gesture. His whole posture is limp. He might just not have the strength to raise his head.
“Yes, it is good. I’ve always wanted a prosthetic. I’m thinking a flamingo foot. Or a peg leg, like a pirate, as long as I can paint it pink. What do you think?”
“Mm-hm, sounds good.”
Dammit, the brunette is working her way back. If she feeds from him again, he’s not going to walk out of here. Doesn’t anybody pay attention to these things? Aren’t there rules for overfeeding? There should be, but somehow, I’m not surprised that there aren’t.
“Okay, that’s it.” Connor pulls me to a stop in the middle of the dance floor. I crane my neck to keep looking toward Nathan, but he touches my face, pulling my gaze to him. “What’s wrong?”
I blink at him a few times, but my mind is blank. I don’t know what to say, or how to play off my obvious distress and distraction. Would he even care that a male tribute is in danger? Would he get jealous?
No, Connor isn’t the person to talk to about this. It’s not that I don’t think he would care, since he’s one of the most empathetic people I’ve ever met. But he’s too new and too nice. No one will listen to him. He doesn’t have enough power in the vampire hierarchy yet.
“I need a second,” I tell him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, but his brow is furrowed with worry. I kiss his cheek and leave him on the dance floor.
He doesn’t follow me, but I can feel his eyes on me. I’m breaking a whole lot of psycho-social rules right now, and I know it, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I scan the great hall, chewing on my bottom lip as my heart races.
Rome isn’t hard to find. As usual, he’s standing to one side of the large room, watching vampires go about their business with stern eyes.
Blood tributes aren’t really supposed to approach vampires uninvited. I’ve seen girls get slapped, scolded, and snubbed for doing just that. The snubbing was the worst, from a social hierarchy perspective. Girls who were snubbed didn’t get chosen again, by anybody, for days at least.
But this is Rome. From everything I’ve seen, he’s not exactly a stickler for those kinds of rules.
He sees me coming and focuses on me, eyes and body attuning to me. He’s studying my face and opening his tense posture, his body language an invitation, so I keep walking toward him, praying that I’m right and that he won’t shoot me down for approaching him uninvited.
“Can we speak privately?” I ask quietly as I come within earshot.
He nods and offers me his elbow. It’s a more natural movement for him than it is for Connor, which makes me wonder, briefly, just how old Rome is. I don’t bother asking though. It’s not what’s important right now.
As soon as we’re out in the corridor, I let go of his arm and turn to face him. “Did you mean it when you told me I should come to you if there are any vampires being abusive?”
He tenses, his eyes flashing with murderous intent. “Who hurt you?”
I shake my head. “Not me. It’s a couple of others. Nathan—that tall, skinny tribute with the prison tattoos down his left side—is being drunk from too often. Althea and Maureen are draining him dry fighting
