Abigail Gibbs - The Dark Heroine - Dinner with a Vampire

I raised an eyebrow again. ‘Do you mean go with you?’ I asked.

‘Well … yeah.’

I grimaced. ‘Well, I have a very busy schedule of avoiding being sucked dry, so I will have to check my diary. But I can pencil it in, if you like?’

A huge beam spread from ear to ear on his face and he laughed, getting to his feet, pulling me onto mine too. The four boys had stopped playing poker to watch and Lyla peered over her phone, her lips parted a little in surprise. Even Kaspar looked out from his dark corner, studying me with his piercing gaze.

‘I would like that … I would like …’ He swept down into a bow and took my hand, planting a kiss on my knuckles. My eyes widened in embarrassment. ‘I would like you, Miss Violet Lee, to do I, Lord Fabian Marl Ariani, Earl of Ariani, the honour of accompanying me to the ball? Glass slippers and all?’

There was a pause as I digested his overkill. ‘If I must,’ I replied, rolling my eyes. His smile became wider and he jumped up. I glanced over at the others, who were all smiling, save for Kaspar and Lyla, whose faces were totally blank.

My heart fluttered for a moment, both in fear, disbelief and a little in excitement. ‘There is only one slight problem,’ I said.

‘What’s that?’ Fabian asked.

‘I don’t know how to dance.’

Fabian smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief once more. ‘Oh, we can fix that.’

‘What do you mean you’re going to give me dance lessons?’ I screeched, head whipping around from one vampire to another.

‘It means exactly that. Dance lessons. Would you like me to spell it out for you?’ Kaspar leered.

‘I am perfectly capable of spelling it, thank you very much. I am sure I am far more intelligent than you anyway,’ I replied.

‘Sure thing, Girly,’ he retorted, laughter curling his lips into a lopsided smile. ‘I have years on you. Now come on, I don’t have all day.’ He grabbed me by the elbow and marched down the corridor. I glanced over my shoulder, looking for some pity from Fabian and Declan, but both just shrugged and followed.

‘You are a total jerk, you know that, don’t you?’ I told Kaspar, not bothering to hide the disdain from my voice.

‘Yes. But you will thank me one day,’ he replied, his characteristic smirk forming on his blood red lips.

We arrived outside the music room and stepping inside I saw Sky, Jag and Lyla stood beside a jet-black grand piano, placed at the edge of a square of varnished floor.

‘Here, put these on,’ Lyla said, throwing a pair of super-high, shocking-red heels at me and, fearing impalement from the stilettos, I let them fall to the ground. I glanced at them and then back at my flat shoes. I caught Lyla’s glare, however, and decided it would be best to do as she said. I slipped them on, the thin straps digging into my skin. Straightening up, I glanced at the ground, noting that it was a lot further down than usual.

Sky sat at the piano and Fabian grabbed my hand, pulling me onto the dance floor. I teetered on the spot, grabbing him for balance. I blushed wildly and an apologetic look formed on my face.

‘Violet, have you done any dancing before, other than this grounding?’ Sky called from the piano, where he sat playing scales up and down the piano, not paying the slightest bit of attention to his hands but never missing a note.

‘Grinding,’ Kaspar, Fabian and I corrected in unison.

‘Well, whatever it is called, it is merely a filthy excuse to procreate in public. Young people these days … He trailed off, his voice full of disgust. A stifled snigger escaped my mouth and I saw Fabian’s lips twitch. ‘I will take that as a no, you have not danced before. Well, Violet, listen carefully. I am an impatient teacher. I will not wait for you to fall over.’ I sobered up, smile wiped from my face. ‘We will start with the box step for a waltz. Now, stop slouching and imagine there is a box on the floor. You are starting at the bottom left-hand corner. On beat one, step forward to the top left-hand corner … yes, like that,’ he said as I took a step forward. ‘On beat two, step to the top right corner with your right foot and on beat three the left foot follows.’ I did as he instructed. ‘And yes, bring them together! Good! Now, step back with your right foot and take your left foot back to your original position, the right foot following, and thus, you have completed your box. Good, now, try again …’

Over and over I did this, Sky barking orders as the others watched from the sidelines, occasionally correcting a step. After a while, he told me to start rising and falling and whirling, which left my feet in a tangle but once ‘Box, remember the box!’ had been shouted at me a few times, they seemed to find their way and I was sweeping across the floor without any trouble.

He stopped all of a sudden. ‘I think you are ready to try it with a partner, don’t you? Fabian, if you will.’

I froze. This was the bit I was scared about. Fabian stepped forward, taking my right hand in his left. He placed my other hand just below his shoulder and his hand snaked around my waist, resting just above my hip. I tensed up as soon as he touched me, afraid of the contact.

‘Relax,’ he mouthed, eyes full of warmth. As he breathed, I felt his cold breath stirring my hair and I was aware that we were close, very close – so close that I blushed again.

‘Now just do what you were practising before, but allow Fabian to guide you,’ Sky called, turning back to the piano. The music began to play and we were frozen for a moment, before I felt Fabian gently push me back a step, his feet following mine as he guided me around the room.

‘I don’t know what you were worrying about,’ Fabian said, smiling. ‘You look like you were taught in the nursery, just like the rest of us.’

I raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re just saying that.’

‘Really, I’m not,’ he retorted, beaming.

‘I think we can leave the waltz for now, but there are many more dances for you to learn. Are you familiar with the dances of the late eighteenth century?’ Sky asked. We came to an abrupt halt and I wobbled on the spot, relying on Fabian’s steady hand to keep me upright. I looked at Sky, dumbfounded and mute. There was a wistful sigh from the corner.

‘Ah, the minuet. My forte,’ Jag said, coming forward.

Three hours later and I knew more dances than I had eaten hot dinners in my life, from so many eras of time that I felt like I was getting more of a history lesson than a dance lesson.

‘Remember, this one is called the Sauteuse . Now we must move on to etiquette,’ Sky said as I broke hold, relieved at the prospect of a rest: the joints in my elbows had rusted into place, leaving them stiff and sore.

‘Etiquette?’

‘Yes. Etiquette is as important as the steps of a dance. And stop looking so abashed, it is quite simple really,’ Sky snapped, clearly displeased at my tired expression. ‘First rule: a lady may never ask a gentleman to dance. She must wait to be asked. No exceptions.’

‘How sexist,’ I muttered, irritated and desperate to unpeel the shoe straps from the skin on my ankle.

‘Yes. It is sexist,’ Sky replied. ‘Second rule: if you wish to decline a dance, do so politely and timidly. Yes, timidly, Miss Lee, something that is clearly not in your repertoire.’

I had opened my mouth to question it but he beat me to it and was rewarded with a snort of laughter from the corner, where Kaspar stood.

‘Now, this is the most important part: curtseying. It is quite simple for you. On account of the fact you are human, you must curtsey to every partner, both before and after the dance. Aristocracy will bow back, royalty will not.’