Evermore - Alyson Noel [26]
Evangeline raises her brows. “Sounds like he is an illusion. No one’s that perfect.”
“Damen is. Too bad you can’t see for yourself.” Haven frowns at me again, her fingers fiddling with the black velvet choker she wears around her neck. “But if you do happen to meet him, don’t forget that he’s mine. I called it way before I knew you.”
I gaze at Evangeline, taking in her dark murky aura, fishnet stockings, tiny black boy shorts, and mesh T-shirt, knowing she has no intention of keeping any such promise.
“You know I could lend you some fangs and fake blood for your neck and you could be a vampire too,” Haven offers, looking at me, her mind flip-flopping back and forth, wanting to be my friend, convinced I’m her foe.
But I just shake my head and steer them to the other side of the room, hoping she’ll move on to something else and soon forget about Damen.
Sabine’s talking to her friends, Haven and Evangeline are spiking their drinks, Miles and Eric are dancing, while Riley plays with the tail of Eric’s whip, swinging the fringe up and down and back and forth, then looking around to see if anyone notices. And just as I’m about to give her the signal, the one that means she better cut it out if she wants to stick around, the doorbell rings, and we race each other to get it.
And even though I beat her to it, when I open the door I forget to gloat, because Damen is there. Flowers in one hand, gold-tipped hat in the other, with his hair gathered into a low ponytail, his usual sleek black clothes replaced with a frilly white shirt, a coat with gold buttons, and what can only be described as breeches, tights, and pointy black shoes. And just as I’m thinking how Miles is going to be completely envious of that costume, I realize who he’s dressed as, and my heart skips two beats.
“Count Fersen,” I mumble, barely managing the words.
“Marie.” He smiles, offering a deep, gallant bow.
“But . . . it was a secret . . . and you weren’t even invited,” I whisper, peering past his shoulder, searching for Stacia, the redhead, anyone at all, knowing he couldn’t possibly be here for me.
But he just smiles and hands me the flowers. “Then it must be a lucky coincidence.”
I swallow hard and turn on my heel, leading him through the entry, past the living and dining rooms, and into the den, my cheeks burning as my heart beats so hard and so fast I fear it might burst through my chest. Wondering how this possibly could’ve happened, searching for some logical explanation for Damen’s showing up at my party dressed as my perfect other half.
“Omigod, Damen’s here!” Haven squeals, arms waving, face all lit up—well, as much as a heavily powdered, fang-wearing, blood-dripping, vampire face can light up. But the moment she sees his costume, realizing he came as Count Axel Fersen, the not-so-secret lover of Marie Antoinette, her entire face dims, and her eyes turn to me, glaring accusingly.
“So, when’d you two arrange it?” she asks, advancing on us, trying to keep her voice light, neutral, but more for Damen’s benefit than mine.
“We didn’t,” I say, hoping she’ll believe it, yet knowing she won’t. I mean, it’s such a bizarre coincidence I’m beginning to doubt it myself, wondering if I somehow let it slip, even though I know that I didn’t.
“Complete fluke,” Damen says, hooking his arm around my waist. And even though he only keeps it there for a moment, it’s still long enough to leave my whole body tingling.
“You’ve got to be Damen,” Evangeline says, slinking up beside him, fingers plucking at the ruffles on his shirt. “I thought for sure Haven was exaggerating, though apparently not!” She laughs. “And who’re you dressed as?”
“Count Fersen,” Haven says, voice hard and brittle, eyes narrowed on mine.
“Whoever.” Evangeline shrugs, stealing his hat and perching it on top of her head, smiling seductively from under the brim before grabbing his hand and leading him away.
The moment they’re gone, Haven turns to me and