He was quicker than she’d expected, and he caught her arm, slamming her against the back of a chair. The hard wood edge caught her in the belly and she lost her breath, spots flickering before her eyes. Victoria gasped and flailed behind her with the stake, then struck out backward with one of her feet.
She smashed into something soft, and the grip on her arm released. Dragging in a ragged breath, she turned to find glowing red eyes behind her, and white fangs. Strong arms whipped out and grabbed her shoulders, squeezing hard into her flesh as he yanked her toward him. Her neck was bare, and the heavy tower of hair made it difficult for her to keep her head from lolling back.
Victoria kicked out again, but missed, and her foot got wrapped up in the layers of her costume. But her stake was still in her hand, and with all her effort, she slammed her face forward, bringing all the force of her jewel-strewn hair with her forehead into the vampire’s face.
He cried out in surprise and she wasted no time, her arm whipping around to shove the stake home. Poof. He was gone.
And then there was one.
The vampire scrambled to his feet from where she’d shoved him against the wall moments earlier, and Victoria stumbled after him, turning to chase him toward the door.
But Max was standing there, and before the vampire took two steps, Max’s arm moved. Casually. Poof.
Victoria fought her breathing into a regular rhythm; the last thing she wanted was for Max to see her panting while he stood there as if he’d just arrived for tea.
He’d also disposed of his mask, and the expression on his rugged face was one of bald annoyance. “Whatever possessed you to wear such a ridiculous gown?” he asked. “How in the bloody hell did you think you’d be able to fight a vampire in that? Or did you think they might stay home tonight, merely because you wished to attend a masquerade ball?”
Victoria lifted her chin, infuriated despite the fact that she had already bemoaned the fact herself. “I don’t see any vampires about, so apparently I managed the task just fine.”
“You very nearly didn’t. That one nearly had you over the chair.”
“But I did. No thanks to you,” she added, realizing that he must have been standing there, watching, as she and her skirts battled three undead on her own. Blasted arrogant man.
Victoria suddenly realized Phillip must have long been waiting for her, and she shoved the stake back into its little hiding place. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said, starting toward the doorway blocked by Max.
“Ah, yes, waltzes and walks in the moonlight await. I do hope you enjoy your evening,” he said. He stepped back to allow her to brush past, her gown catching for a moment before she made it through. “And, for the sake of the guests here, that no other undead manages to breach the party.”
“Good night.” Her teeth gritted so hard her jaw hurt as she hurried along the corridor back to the foyer.
When she arrived, there was Phillip, waiting for her, holding a much-needed cup of lemonade.
“Ah, there you are,” he said, his attention scoring over her in a way that made her face heat up. “Whatever happened to your mask?”
She looked up at him. “It’s nearly midnight. And,” she added, sweeping her lashes down demurely, “I thought it might get in the way.”
Phillip pulled off his mask, then slipped his arm through hers, lining her next to his tall body. “Indeed it might,” he said. Then, pausing, he reached out to brush something from her shoulder. “Wherever did you get so dusty all of a sudden?”
Victoria smelled the mustiness of undead ash and looked up at him. “I stumbled into the wrong chamber, and stirred up a bit of dust,” she explained, smiling up in delight at the expression on his face.
“Indeed?” he replied, his hooded eyes dark and seductive. “Well, I certainly hope that stirring up dust doesn’t become too much of a habit.”
Victoria merely smiled. Little did he know.