Dark Angel 💀 {Erotic Vampire Adventure}

Chapter 29 - Something's Rotten

"Aren't I a master?" Constance gushes as Sophie walks out from behind the gilded panels of a garish privacy screen.

Sophie is grinning from ear to ear as she twirls to show off the skimpy gold drop-waist flapper dress that her queen has picked out for the party tonight. She's clearly elated at how the garment leaves very little to the imagination, and her father is clearly livid at that fact.

"Are you sure that's appropriate for a fifteen year-old girl?" Christian asks the room, not wanting to defy Constance's selection.

"I'm nearly forty-three dad." Sophie says with an exaggerated eye roll.

Huh, I didn't know she was a year older than me.

"Nonsense!" Constance calls out with a laugh. "The girl looks gorgeous! Let her live a little."

"Yeah, dad, let me live a little." Sophie echoes tossing a joyful look at Constance.

"Besides, just wait until you see what I've got for your future bride!" Constance is positively gleeful at the idea of playing dress up with us as her dolls.

So much yikes.

Elodie steps out from the bathroom clad in a dress that can only be described as devastating. It shimmers around her resplendent curves in tiers of trembling cream-colored fringe and dripping in tiny diamonds that sparkle under the lights of the room. Whenever she moves you can see flashes of the shear flesh-toned fabric underneath, just in case any man was wondering if she had undergarments on (she does by the way, and they're red lace). As soon as she spots her daughter her mouth opens to say something.

"Aren't you two just a pair?!" Constance practically squeals. "Go try on yours Beatrice! You just have to!"

Technically, yes, I do have to because you're my queen.

I grab the red garment bag from her assistant, a mousy vampire who looks like she's seen far too many of these useless fashion shows in her past, and head towards the bathroom for a little privacy. When I unzip the bag I'm aghast. The dress is elegant, skimpy, beaded, and black. Only one of those words could possibly match my personality and it sure as hell isn't the first three.

Silently I'm praying this thing doesn't fit as I shimmy into the silky fabric, but it's like one of her staff somehow took my exact measurements while they were manhandling us at the door. The deep V-neck plunges past my breasts in the front so I'm showing ample cleavage (don't worry, I have nice boobies), which is of course only made more obvious by the intricately beaded bodice.

Angular patterns of gunmetal grey and onyx beads create a sort of starburst across my chest and torso leading down into the zigzagged hemline that stops about mid-buttock on me. The skirt is made up of layers of shiny black feathers that reflect metallic blues and greens whenever I move. To add insult to injury the shoes I've been given are black stilettos with a bright red sole and read "Louboutin" in gold letters (whoever this guy is, he hates feet).

Constance's dressmaker has already done my makeup in a simple black smokey-eye and curled my hair until it's a sheath of cascading chestnut curls slicked with gel and pinned to show off my buzz cut on one side. I look like a femme fatale from some corny novel.

When I teeter out to show Constance that I plan on playing along both Christian and Gideon have joined the crowd.

"Oh my God." Christian breathes as I stroll out of the bathroom.

He's dressed in a white button down shirt that is so tight you can see every muscle in his stomach and black tailored tuxedo pants. True to Christian, the top three buttons are undone exposing his chest tattoo and his bowtie is hanging undone around his neck. He grins at me, staring as though he's mesmerized while I stride over to the group.