His breath brushes against the back of my neck, and shivers of awareness make their way down my spine. I tell myself it’s because of everything that’s happened in the last few days—especially the kiss and the argument in the basement.

But the truth is, Hudson is gorgeous. His very obviously couture Armani tuxedo, with its shiny lapels and white pocket square, fits his long, lean frame like it was made for him (which it probably was, now that I think about it—hello, vampire prince), and he looks like two million bucks. And also totally freaking hot.

“You look good, too,” I murmur softly.

The compliment startles him, has his eyes going wide. But his answering grin is the brightest thing in the room—which is saying something, considering every dragon female here is draped in jewels—and the hand on my back gets a little more proprietary. The feel of his fingers curving around the edge of my waist makes my mouth go dry and my already none-too-steady legs shaky.

Determined to get some of my own back, I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and say, “Glass slippers are so last fairy tale.”

“Oh yeah?” He moves even closer, his eyes kindling as they sweep over me from head to toe. “What about underwear?”

I lift a brow in perfect Hudson Vega fashion. “I’m pretty sure that depends on the girl.”

And just like that, his eyes darken, the heat in them going from a blaze to an inferno in the space between one heartbeat and the next. “What kind of girl are you?” he whispers, his breath hot against my ear.

I let the question linger in the air for one second, two, before leaning in so that my lips brush along the line of his jaw right before I whisper back, “There’s only one way to find out.”

Hudson groans low in his throat even as his hold goes from proprietary to full-on caveman. His eyes blaze down at me, and I wait for him to say something that will make my cheeks burn as hotly as his gaze, but after several seconds, he seems to get a hold on whatever slipped the chain inside him.

Because instead of pushing full steam ahead, he blows out a breath, shakes his head, takes a beat to get his brain and other parts back in ballroom order. Then he propels me forward with a gentle pressure on my back. “You ready for this?”

I take my eyes off him for the first time to look at the way the room has been totally transformed and realize… “No. No, I’m really not ready for this.”

He grins. “Better get ready, then, because here we go.”

81

Turns Out Cupid

Is Packing a Lot

More than Arrows

I’m not sure what he’s referring to—and am too busy looking at the room and the city beyond its floor-to-ceiling windows. The ballroom overlooks the Hudson and much of Manhattan, so the view is breathtaking as the bright lights of the city reflect off the river. Flint was right when he said dragons figured out the worth of real estate early—this has to be one of the best views in the whole city.

“Oh my God! It’s gorgeous.”

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Hudson agrees. I turn to smile at him, then realize he’s not looking at the view. He’s looking at me.

Our gazes catch and hold and I forget how to breathe. At least until I get hit in the head by something hard.

“What is that?” I jerk around to see what just hit me.

“Looks like a ruby flying a little low from the hoard,” Hudson says with a laugh. He plucks it out of the air somewhere behind us to show me.

“The hoard?” I ask. “What do you mean?”

He just grins and points up.

And OH MY GOD. I was so mesmerized by the view of the city that somehow I missed the fact that the air in the top half of the ballroom—starting about a foot above Hudson’s head and going all the way to the ceiling—is filled with treasure. Gemstones, gold, silver, keys, and tiny purple envelopes are individually floating in midair. But they’re not just hanging there, they’re circling the elegantly decorated room very, very slowly, giving every person here the chance to see as much of what’s up there as possible.

“Oh my God! What is happening?” I ask. “And is it real?”

Hudson laughs. “Of course it’s real. It’s a hoard.”

“You mean like the dragon treasure pile Flint was telling me about?” I can’t take my eyes off the sparkling, airborne jewels. It’s not that I covet anything from the hoard; it’s just that I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around millions upon millions of dollars just circling the ballroom above our heads, like it’s no big deal.

“Not like,” Hudson says. “This is a dragon treasure pile, just charmed to be a little more showy than normal. Every dragon in here is going to get the chance to take something from it tonight.”

Flint told me the same thing, but I was picturing a gold coin for everyone or something. Not a diamond necklace or a sapphire as big as a baby’s fist. It’s mind-boggling, even before Hudson tosses the ruby back up toward the ceiling.

“What— Why—” I let out a squawk of surprise, expecting it to fall back down. But it doesn’t. It just hangs there for a second before rejoining the slow spin of the rest of the hoard.

“Why do you look so surprised?” Hudson murmurs as we follow Luca, Flint, and Macy, all three of whom are basically arm in arm, everyone having made up with him after my talk with Nuri—well, except me. I watch as Flint leads them to a table at the very front of the ballroom where Eden is already standing, nervously shifting from foot to foot.

She’d obviously loved the dress we’d left out for her today. She looks stunning in the floor-length black velvet gown. But she wouldn’t be Eden if she hadn’t paired it with steel-toed Doc Martens and a saucy nose ring. She flashes Macy a big smile, and they settle down next to each other across the table from where Hudson is leading me.

Hudson continues. “The name of the holiday is Wyvernhoard.”

“Yeah, I get it now. I guess I just thought some holidays become more symbolic over time…”

He laughs. “Not this one.”

“Obviously not.” I eye the flying treasure once again. “What are the keys for? And the envelopes?”

“If I remember correctly from the last time I was here, the keys are to real estate or vehicles, and the envelopes hold stock certificates to companies like Apple and Facebook or cash.”

“Of course they do,” I say in the most nonchalant tone I can manage—which is not very. But come on! What kind of wealth do you have to be raised around to be as blasé as Hudson is right now? If he remembers correctly? I promise myself I am never going to forget this moment. It’s the coolest and most mind-blowing thing I’ve ever seen.

And I go to school with dragons and vampires…

Once I finally stop looking at the hoard and focus on the people in the ballroom again, I can’t help noticing the way everyone is staring at us as we move to find our seats. Part of it, I know, comes from the fact that we’re with Flint, the heir apparent to the dragon throne.

But not all the stares are for him…or the new royal boyfriend, Luca. A lot of them are directed at Hudson and me, too.

And while I’ve learned that vampires—especially vampire royalty—are a little bit like rock stars in this world, I have no idea why they’re staring at me. Nobody knows who I am yet. It’s not like there are pictures all over the internet of “that new gargoyle girl” or something.

At least until I realize that most of the women we pass are staring at me and my red dress with open jealousy, and they are literally ogling Hudson. I tell myself it’s just because he’s the vampire prince, but I’ve got eyes. I recognize envy when I see it. There are a lot of young women in this room who would do just about anything to take my place.

Not that I blame them. The more time I spend with Hudson, the more I realize that he really is a total catch.

No one seems to be upset at all that the vampire who killed the heir apparent is in their midst, and I can’t help but wonder if Eden was right and everyone saw what an asshole Damien was. Everyone except his own mother, of course.

We’re among the last ones in the ballroom—everyone must know about Nuri’s obsession with timeliness—and once we take our seats at the second head table, Nuri and Aiden head to the microphone on the dais.

Aiden is dressed in a tuxedo, as well, but like his son, his jacket has a little more personality than the average basic black. While Flint’s is a black-on-black zebra pattern with leather lapels, his dad has gone full color, with a violet velvet dinner jacket and a matching patterned bow tie that shows off his bright Irish red hair perfectly. He should look out of place among this sea of men in black, but he looks amazing.

Then again, being royalty must give you that ability.