Dhampirica

XXI

YVANNA FROZE.

She could not bring herself to move a muscle as Lord Luciano's mouth moved against hers, his fingers curling tighter into her hair. His lips were hard, unrelenting, and cruel. A kiss designed to make a point. She wanted to push him away, but did she even have the right to? She stayed still, the memory of Lord Ashton beckoning her to his lap resurfacing in her mind. She was once again reminded of her helplessness against the people who she had sworn to protect. Rage swelled inside of her.

And then, they were pulled apart.

"Get your hands off her!" Lord Dante roared, wrenching him from Yvanna. His chest was heaving, his face contorted in rage.

She watched in utter disbelief as Lord Luciano went stumbling to the ground, though he did not seem the least bit surprised. In fact, he was perhaps the only one in the room who wasn't surprised. Around them was a sea of faces, their expressions ranging from shock to disgust to abject horror. Lord Dante — cool, calm, and collected as he was — had done something remarkable. For the first time in public, he had lost his composure. And it was over her. A dhampirica.

The music, which was playing in the background, suddenly came to an end.

"Are you okay, Yvanna?" Lord Dante asked her, his eyes filled with concern and... something else. An emotion she wasn't yet able to identify.

She did not respond, but looked past him to Lord Luciano, who stared at Lord Dante, his eyes brimming with an emotion she could also not define. He had expected this reaction — welcomed it, even. But why? Was he jealous of Lord Dante? Did he secretly despise him? Was that why he did this — to embarrass him? Even though they were second cousins and even though Lord Dante considered them best friends?

Yvanna's gaze trailed further, finding Lady Cerice a short distance behind Lord Dante, her face colored with shock. She then glanced around the room, seeing every single eye on her. One particular person caught her attention — Lord Riccardo — who stood across the room, his face an unnerving display of complete impassivity.

Her heart dropped to her stomach. Oh, no... she thought to herself. I've messed up.

Yvanna shot to her feet. "Please excuse me," she said to no one in particular, and then hastily left the room. She dashed to her bedroom on the second floor and slammed the door close. She could feel her heart racing violently in her chest.

Footsteps marched toward her, and then there was a knock at her door. "Yvanna?" Lord Dante called. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, her voice very nearly shaking. "Just... go back to the party."

"Open the door, Yvanna," came his gentle command. And not for the first time, Yvanna wished she did not have to obey.

With a sigh of resignation, she opened the door. Lord Dante stood before her, his face written with worry. Yvanna turned her back to him, clutching her elbows. "You really should go back," she murmured, unwilling to face him.

She heard him take a step closer. "Not until I know you're alright." He sighed. "I'm sorry about Luca. He can be erratic, but that was way out of line. I'll make him apologize to you."

"No," she said, her voice coming out sharper this time. "You've done enough."

"Excuse me?"

She spun around. "Why did you make such a scene?" she asked him desperately.

He was surprised. "I..." he trailed off, evidently confused by her reaction. "He forced himself on you! I was helping you."

"He had every right to!" she exclaimed. "Regardless of whether or not I wanted it. You shouldn't have done that. I could've handled it myself." She let out a loud exasperated breath. "And why does it even matter what he does to me? You clearly had no issue with other nobles touching me before," she said, referring to Lord Ashton.