An Acquired Taste (The Valentine Society)

Chapter Five

W hen Benjamin said he was going to train me to be a valentine, I thought it would be exciting. Maybe even sexy. But instead, it’s all a blur of practicing curtsies and dress fittings with Lissa and reading about vampire society until my eyes cross. Part of me is grateful for the intense training regimen. It keeps my mind off Declan and provides a good excuse to accept Benjamin’s offer for me to stay at his place until the ball. I have to admit it’s nice to have a break from constant work and chores, too. Though I can’t shake the sense that I’m out of place here, intruding on Benjamin’s and Lissa’s privacy.

But it’s hard to worry too much because then, just like that, Valentine’s Day is here. It’s time for the ball.

I pull myself out of bed a couple hours before sundown. Thank God I had a week to adjust my sleep schedule so I won’t be stumbling around half asleep all night. I’m just getting out of the shower when there’s a knock at the bedroom door.

“Come on in,” I call, wrapping my hair in a towel. When I walk out into the bedroom, Lissa is waiting, with a rare smile instead of her usual resting bitch face. She gestures, and I turn.

I gasp when I see the dress draped across my bed. Actually gasp out loud, like a soap opera character. But I can’t help myself. This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and it’s hard to believe it’s for me. It looks like yards of rich burgundy silk, and when I reach out to touch it, it’s impossibly soft.

“I want to wrap it around myself like a blanket and wear it forever,” I say, finally tearing my eyes away from the dress to beam at Lissa. It fades after a moment, though. “But I’m going to trip over my own feet.”

“Maybe you’ll surprise yourself. You’ve done well in training.”

I shrug, unconvinced. Still, in a dress like this, it seems like even tripping over my own feet would somehow manage to be luxurious. Like I’ll swoon right into some handsome vampire’s arms.

“Put it on,” Lissa urges, already stepping out the door to give me some privacy.

I end up calling her back in for assistance tying up the corset back, but after some struggling, I manage to get the dress on. I pull on my matching red-bottom heels, turn to face myself in the mirror, and watch my own eyes widen in shock. I hardly look like myself. The corset bodice cinches my waist in beautifully, while the sweetheart neckline really shows off my assets. The silk hugs my hips before slipping down over my legs, making them look longer than they’ve ever looked before, and the knee-high slit provides a flirty flash of thigh.

“Damn,” I whisper, running my fingers over the material.

“Agreed,” Lissa says. “Ah, and here. I got you some jewelry as well.” She tucks my hair behind my shoulders and helps me put on a pair of dazzling earrings, real pearls dangling from delicate golden chains. There’s a choker to match, featuring delicate layers of gold filigree around my neck, and a thread of pearls that hangs down into my cleavage.

“Shit, I feel expensive,” I say, looking at my reflection again. I didn’t know I could look this good, or feel this good. I can’t remember the last time I thought of myself as sexy .

“You look amazing,” Lissa says, and I preen under the rare praise from her. She’s warmed up to me since I’ve been staying here, but she’s still not exactly sunshine and butterflies. “Now, you better let me do your makeup and hair so you don’t ruin the effect.”

I sit at the vanity table without protest.

“Bold, or natural?” Lissa asks. She sets a bag on the table and unzips it to reveal a dazzlingly wide array of makeup products.

I hesitate. I’ve never worn much makeup—my mom always called it trashy , and Declan always said things like who are you trying to impress?— but tonight is about making an impression. “Bold,” I say, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” she murmurs, and gets to work.

I watch myself transform in the mirror, and my confidence grows by the minute. Lissa has a magician’s touch, drawing attention to all of my best features. Under her expert hand, the smoldering, dark eyeshadow and plum-colored lips don’t look overdone, but captivating. I look like a new version of myself: mysterious and alluring and confident.

She does an incredible job with my hair, as well. She coaxes a never-seen-before glossiness and bounce out of my curls, and then pins everything into place so it looks elegant rather than out of control. I look like an old-school movie star, or maybe like one of those ’50s pinup girls, in the best of ways.

“Everyone’s going to want a taste of you,” she says when she’s done, standing back and admiring her handiwork.

My stomach flips, and my expression crumples.

“But what if nobody likes me?” I ask. “Or what if they like me too much?” Oh, God. I’ve been so focused on learning etiquette and worrying about the way I taste that I never processed the fact I’m going to be surrounded by people who want to eat me. Not even people, really, but undead immortals who are faster and stronger than I am. What if they take it too far and hurt me? What if I don’t know when to ask them to stop? What if…

Lissa squeezes my shoulder, and it stops me from spiraling. “You’re going to be fine,” she says. “Benjamin will look after you, and nobody is going to hurt you on his watch. He knows what he’s doing.”

We both attempt to compose ourselves as Benjamin walks in. He takes one of my hands, lifts me out of my seat, and spins me in place. “You look absolutely striking,” he says.

His presence is steadying, a reminder that I’m not going into this alone. I dip into an exaggerated curtsy. I’m surprised how graceful I feel doing it, even as a joke; before Benjamin’s training, I’m pretty sure I would have managed to fall over while doing this. In heels, nonetheless!

“Ah, one more thing,” he murmurs. He pulls something out of his pocket and holds it up to the light: a metallic pin in the shape of an anatomical heart, colored white and gold. He carefully attaches it to my dress, right over where my own heart beats. “A white heart indicates an unclaimed valentine,” he says as he steps back to admire me. “If someone chooses to offer their patronage, you will wear a black one at your next ball.”

We both know that isn’t going to happen. But still, as I gaze at my appearance in the mirror, I can’t help but dream… and that dream is almost enough to let me forget that I’m about to be surrounded by vampires from dusk till dawn.