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LaLa is beginning to see why Evangeline hates balls so much.
She’s thrown countless parties before, but there’s something about this one that has her head spinning and stomach lurching. Maybe it’s the flashing lights, or the expired strawberry danishes, but either way, she wants to get out of here.
It doesn’t help that Evangeline and Jacks disappeared an hour ago to do god-knows-what back in their little cottage, effectively leaving LaLa alone. She knows every single person here, but at the same time she feels as if she knows none of them.
“LaLa!” a woman sings, dancing in front of her. It takes LaLa a moment to recognize her: Duchess Tessa from the Magnificent North, adorned in countless layers of lace and tulle. “Wonderful ball you’re hosting, it’s taking me back to when I was young!”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it!” LaLa says cheerfully, grin fading into an awkward smile as Duchess Tessa leaves. She anxiously rubs her dragon flame tattoos, pressing her back against the wall to give herself space.
Everything feels wrong–even the clothes on her skin that she made herself. Maybe she just needs some fresh air.
Yes, that’s it, LaLa decides, heading for the hallway that leads to the balcony. Fresh air is what I need.
But on her way to the door, she spots a familiar face.
Castor Valor, otherwise known as Chaos, immortal and vampire. He’s standing by a leafy green plant, cloak strewn across his shoulders, and he has the audacity to look bored.
LaLa doesn’t remember inviting him. Then again, the man seems to go wherever he wants, whenever he wants. And maybe that isn’t a bad thing, because she’s feeling a strange urge to strike up a conversation with him.
Then again, she’s not sure. Chaos is…complicated. Her relationship with him is complicated. For ages they’ve danced on a barrier between good and evil, between friend and foe. But there’s one thing she can’t deny since he’s taken off his helm: he’s far more attractive than she thought he’d be.
Well, to hell with it all. If talking to someone sane–even Chaos–is the only thing that will get her through the rest of this ball, then so be it.
LaLa takes a step forward, bracing herself to go strike up a conversation with him. But before she gets anywhere, she feels a hand on her arm. She turns, ready to tell said stranger to leave her alone.
“May I have this dance, Ariel?”
LaLa raises her eyebrows. The man in front of her is tall and blond–not Jacks’ level blond, closer to brunette. She’s never seen him before, but maybe one of her other guests invited him.
“Sure,” she smiles, taking his proffered hand. She does love dancing, and besides, no one’s asked her to dance yet tonight.
They make their way towards the dancing couples, where the orchestra plays a song that’s a mix of upbeat and jazzy, tinged with a touch of romance.
The man takes LaLa’s hand and guides her to the center of the floor.
“I never caught your name,” she says as he raises her arm to twirl her in a circle. The golden fabric of her dress lifts elegantly, and for the first time tonight, she feels beautiful.
The man smiles, sharp and almost wolflike. “Such introductions aren’t necessary.”
LaLa’s eyebrows furrow, but she masks her suspicion with another polite smile. “Whatever you say,” she replies sweetly.
They dance for a little while longer, but eventually it feels wrong.
The man’s hand, which started on LaLa’s waist, is slowly traveling further and further down.
Her sixth sense is tingling, but she can’t make a scene in the middle of the room–after all, she has a reputation to uphold.
But that doesn’t mean she’s going to let a random man take advantage of her.
Eventually, she excuses herself to the drinks, just to get away from this mystery man. The delicate glasses of red wine are calling her name, but she turns away from them. She is not going to let herself break down and get drunk tonight. LaLa prides herself on having common sense, and that means not getting wasted on wine.
She makes a beeline for the hallway yet again, slipping out of the room and turning the corner. She passes by at least a dozen doors leading to other rooms, heading straight for the golden balcony doors. But just before she can throw them open, her momentary peace is disrupted by footsteps.
LaLa turns. There stands the mystery man, same wolfish smile on his face.
He walks forward, shadow cast ominously across the carpeted floor.
“I thought you were simply going to grab a drink.” The smile never leaves the man’s face as he steps towards her.
Step.
Step.
Step.
LaLa curses herself for getting into this situation. “I apologize, it was getting rather stuffy in there,” she tells him. “I just needed some fresh air.” She needs to get out of here fast, but she’s cornered. There’s no telling what this man will do to her if she doesn’t leave.
“How about another dance, then?” The man reaches out, but his hand looks more threatening than inviting this time. Something predatory flashes in his eyes, a look LaLa knows all too well.
She inches back, preparing to aim a kick where the sun doesn’t shine. But she never gets the chance.
Crack!
A hand lashes out from the shadows, snapping the man’s head at an unnatural angle. He hits the floor in a heap, knocked unconscious.
LaLa whirls to the source of the hand, and of course it’s Chaos standing there, green eyes glittering. His curled fist hovers in the air, shaking slightly.
She narrows her eyes at him. “I could have handled that myself.”
“I know,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth tilting up. He drops his hand by his side. “But that doesn’t mean you have to.”
LaLa casts her gaze to the man on the floor, raising an eyebrow at his crumpled body. A thin trail of blood trails from his nose, leaving a red stain on the baroque carpet. “Did you really have to knock him out like that?”
“He was being a fucking prick, so yes,” Chaos says calmly.
She snorts, feeling oddly self-conscious. Looking at him, standing here, LaLa flashes back to a memory: almost two months ago, in Valorfell.
They sit in the back of an antiques shop, waiting for Evangeline and Jacks to return from an errand, looking at everything but each other. LaLa decides to fill the awkward silence.
“Which do you think is more dangerous,” she asks him, “dragons or vampires?”
He looks up at her with those jade-green eyes and gives her a look. “Vampires.”
She knew he’d say that, of course. But that doesn’t stop her from leaning her head in her hand and saying, “Why?”
His lips curl into an almost-feral grin, fangs flashing. “They bite.”
LaLa might have stayed in that memory forever, if Chaos doesn’t lift a hand to drag one slender finger down the side of her face, breaking her out of her trance.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs.
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, turning away to hide her blush. She pushes his hand away, most definitely not noticing the tingle she feels when their skin touches. “I have a ball to host. I can’t deal with this.”
“Wait,” Chaos says, before she can walk past him.
LaLa looks up at him, a questioning look in her eyes.
In less than a second, he presses his hand against the door beside her head, eliciting a gasp out of her as he effectively cages her in. She can feel his breath as he leans in.
“Where’s my thanks, you little minx?”
A smile is playing on the corner of Chaos’s mouth, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to her. Like this whole thing is a game he wants to win.
Lucky for him, LaLa feels like playing.
She mirrors his smile, leaning in even more. “I only give thanks to people who deserve it.”
“Really.” He’s not even looking at her eyes anymore–his gaze is fixed on her lips. “You don’t want my help?”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Shame.” He drags a finger across her lips. “I’ve got plenty more services I’m willing to offer.”
And maybe LaLa doesn’t have common sense anymore, because she knows Chaos isn’t good for her.
She knows he’s a vampire.
She knows he could very well kill her.
But that doesn’t stop her from looking into his eyes and whispering, “Like what?”
LaLa isn’t sure who moves first, but in a split second they’re kissing, ages of pent-up emotions and tension unraveling. Chaos’s hand moves down to her hip, pressing her against the wall, their bodies flush against each other.
She barely has a second to comprehend what’s going on before Chaos moves his lips to her neck, breath hot against her skin.
“How long?” LaLa gasps.
“Since the fucking beginning, LaLa,” he says, and she just about melts into him. And his lips travel further, further, further.
“Wait–someone could see–” (She says as she turns her head, giving him better access.)
He chuckles against her skin, and she knows he couldn’t care less who catches them like this. “Let them watch,” he says.
And LaLa has to roll her eyes, because he’s got her against the wall and he’s still acting as smug as usual. Blindly reaching behind her, she turns the knob of the first door she finds, yanking Chaos through by his collar.
They stumble into the room together, LaLa’s shoulder bumping into a broom. A storage closet.
Chaos kicks the door shut behind him, and it’s pitch black in the closet but they still have each other.
Outside, the party goes on.