An Acquired Taste (The Valentine Society)

Chapter Six

T he size of the grand ballroom is dizzying. Every time I look up at the high, domed ceiling, vertigo washes over me, making me feel like I’m going to tumble right down the staircase. Now that would be quite an entrance to the Valentine’s Day Ball.

The floor is black marble shot through with gold. More gold adorns the furniture arranged around the edges of the room, the tables, the old-fashioned candlesticks, the delicate railing winding around the staircase below us. Classical music from a live string quartet floats over the background murmur of the crowd. Moonlight streams in through a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, caught and amplified by crystal chandeliers to lend a dreamy shine to everything in the room. All of this is so gorgeous and luxurious that it hardly seems real.

The moment our ride pulled up to the driveway of this sprawling Victorian mansion, I knew I was out of my league. Now, there is so much going on, I hardly know where to look. I cling to Benjamin’s arm as we descend the staircase and enter the buzzing crowd

Even surrounded by glamor, most stunning of all are the party attendees—and there are hundreds of them. Vampires and humans alike sweep through the party with perfect poise, on-point makeup, and exquisite finery. Each person I see is more beautiful than the last, and I gawk unabashedly. If not for Benjamin navigating us through the ballroom, I’d surely be bumping into furniture and people left and right, because it’s so hard to look away.

I cling to my chaperone, heartbeat rising until it’s louder than the music in my ears. My anxiety is going haywire in the presence of so many vampires, but also over a thought that keeps repeating in my mind: why am I here? I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb amid all of this beauty and poise. Even wearing Lissa’s well-crafted disguise of elegance, I’m just… me. Just an achingly normal woman who really shouldn’t have received an invitation to a place like this, and I’m surely going to screw it up somehow.

Desperate for something to ground me, I latch on to Benjamin’s training tip about using vampires’ outfits to determine which of the courts they belong to. As he explained in one of our lessons, there are four prominent vampire courts in the United States, and they’re bound by values rather than blood.

Camelia Court, whose motto is “strength in beauty, beauty in strength,” represented by a dagger piercing a rose. They’re made up of models, actors, and fashionistas.

Vulpe Court, “the endless thirst for excellence,” with a snake wrapped around a goblet’s handle. The artists of the vampire world.

Solomon Court, “keepers of the unwritten,” represented by a skull with a moth over its mouth. They enforce vampire law, and “protect our secrets,” which Benjamin refused to elaborate on.

And Celeste Court, “they who remember,” with the symbol of a quill and crescent moon. The recorders and preservers of history.

Though some are more subtle about it, many of the vampires’ outfits make their courts apparent. I spy dramatic capes designed like moth wings, golden quill earrings, and silver snake bracelets. Camelia—roses and daggers — and Vulpe—snakes and goblets—are the two most prominent courts in the crowd, which makes sense for a party like this.

Eventually, Benjamin pauses beside an unoccupied chaise on the edge of the ballroom. A few pairs are already twirling around the dance floor, but the majority of partygoers, like us, are watching from the sidelines. Many of them are humans, blood cards gripped in hand and white hearts pinned to their chests, waiting to be approached by someone.

None of them seem to have chaperones, which makes me feel self-conscious. Yet when I feel him starting to pull away, I clutch Benjamin’s arm in sudden fear. “Do. Not. Leave me here,” I hiss at him, panic fluttering in my chest. Despite the glamor, I’m well aware that I’m prey surrounded by predators, and Benjamin is the only one I trust to keep me safe.

He gives me a sympathetic look and eases my grip off his bicep. “I promise you’re not in any danger here. Just stay put for a minute. If anyone asks for a dance or a bloodletting, please politely inform them you’re waiting for your chaperone.”

I take a breath and try to steady myself. Right. I can do this. He’s not going to throw me into the deep end. This is just a dip into the kiddy pool. And he’s paying me for this, so I better play my part. “Okay,” I say, and force myself to let go of him and sit on the leather chaise, smoothing my dress under me.

“Just a minute,” he repeats. “I’m going to make the rounds and see who’s present. You’ll be fine.” He steps back, pauses, adds, “Don’t eat or drink anything,” and then disappears into the mix of people, leaving me alone.

Watching from the chaise is slightly less overwhelming than being in the thick of the crowd. Once I get over my nerves, I begin to enjoy people watching. I watch two very handsome men spin around the dance floor together as if they’ve done it a thousand times before, and then try my best not to gawk at a man drinking from a woman’s wrist on a love seat across the room. I can’t tell from this distance if she’s his valentine or a free agent, but the sight is more than a little titillating.

It reminds me why I’m here. Why I want to be here. I take my blood card out of my pocket and fan myself with it to ease my anxious sweat.

“First time?”

I start as I realize someone is speaking to me, and flush. “That obvious?” I ask, glancing up at the woman who spoke. She’s a lovely blonde draped in pink tulle, with a white heart indicating that she’s an unclaimed valentine.

“You’re staring,” she says. Her smile has a mean edge. Then she glances at my blood card, clutched tightly in one hand, and gestures. “Do you mind?”

“Oh… no?” I hold it out to her.

“Lord Benjamin Acharya ?” she reads, frowning. “Your chaperone doesn’t even belong to a court?”

“No…” I resist the urge to snatch back the fan before she continues on to the tasting notes I’ve already memorized. Her eyebrows lift as she reads them to herself: “Lively and intense; a unique flavor for a refined palate.” She glances at me, lips curling in a smirk. “That’s… interesting.”

Before I can take the card back, she turns and gestures to another hopeful-valentine. He walks over and peers over her shoulder, huffing a laugh as he reads my blood card.

My face must be nearly as red as my dress. “What do your notes say?”

“‘Sweet and fruit-forward, with a velvety mouthfeel,’” the woman quotes without glancing at hers.

“I’m ‘savory, earthy, and decadent,’” the man says with a smirk to match his friend’s.

“Well, best of luck tonight,” the woman says as she hands back my blood card. “You’re going to need it.” And then she drifts away with her companion, both of them concealing laughter behind their hands.

I stare down at my blood card, heart sinking again with the reminder that I’m not cut out for this world for more reasons than one. Their tasting notes sounded appealing, but mine… would not be a description that would entice me to buy a bottle of wine. The more I read it, the more I think about Benjamin’s puckered expression after the first time he tasted my blood. Honestly, the description is just a fancy way to write “ tastes like a steaming pile of shit .” So why did Benjamin bring me here? Am I being paid thousands of dollars to be publicly humiliated?

The shreds of my self-worth are screaming at me to leave. But I’m already here. The worst that could happen is that no one wants to try me, and I get paid for nothing. Right? Benjamin and Lissa assured me there was no actual danger here, and I can handle a bit of humiliation.

“Amelia.” I look up to find Benjamin standing over me. “Thank you for waiting.” He scrutinizes me, and then follows my glance at the still-giggling valentines who are now gossiping with a small crowd. He frowns. “Some of the valentines get unnecessarily competitive about these events. Don’t let them get to you.” He offers an arm. “Please, come with me, I’d like to make some introductions.”

I bite my cheek but nod, and force myself to rise and take his arm.

Being paraded around the room feels worse than sitting in the corner. Benjamin introduces me to a few different vampires. Each time I curtsy and greet them, I feel more like a show animal putting on a performance. All of them are shockingly beautiful and dressed to the nines, and each makes the same confused face while reading my blood card. None of them offer to taste me, and Benjamin always politely excuses us after a few minutes of uncomfortable conversation.

Uncomfortable for me, at least. Benjamin slides smoothly from circle to circle, always seeming to know the right thing to say or ask, but soon I’m embarrassed and sweating like a pig under this expensive fabric. I fan myself with my blood card.

“Too early to call it a night?” I half-joke, but Benjamin ignores the comment and continues on with the same unshakable confidence.

Next, he approaches a stunning woman who is lounging on a black leather couch in the corner. She’s surrounded by a circle of both human and vampire admirers. Some of them are kneeling on the marble floor just for a chance to be near her. And I can see why.

She’s strikingly beautiful, with blue eyes so pale, they’re nearly colorless, fair hair cropped into an elegant pixie cut, and legs for days. She must be at least six feet tall, and her elegant black dress fits her perfectly. But almost as striking is the human draped over her lap like an accessory. He’s wearing a deep red velvet suit with a black heart pin displayed proudly on his chest, and has almost the same ethereal beauty as the woman he’s with.

When he turns to face me as I approach on Benjamin’s arm, I realize with a jolt that I recognize this man’s striking green eyes and perfect bone structure. He’s the model from the ad that gave me this idea in the first place. Jonah Montgomery, the valentine poster boy. He’s even more beautiful in person, his hair elegantly mussed and a hint of stubble on his sharp jawline.

“Lady Viktoria de Camelia,” Benjamin says, bowing to the vampire who I assume is Jonah’s patron. “May I present Amelia Burton?”

The vampire’s pale eyes shift from him to me. So do Jonah’s, but though Lady Viktoria’s gaze feels curious, Jonah practically burns a hole in my cheek with his glowering. I shift from foot to foot and glance down, working on committing the name to memory. Camelia. Right, the roses. Roses and daggers, beauty and strength. It makes sense for these two heartthrobs and the fawning mob around them.

“Who are you?” the vampire asks—directed not at me, but at Benjamin.

“Lord Benjamin Acharya,” he introduces himself.

She gives him a once-over. “My, my. I thought courtless vampires were extinct. How on Earth did you secure an invitation?”

Her tone makes me squirm, but Benjamin is as unflappable as ever.

“Courtless does not mean friendless,” he says. “And I could not miss an opportunity to offer this lovely delicacy.” He places a hand on my lower back, and I try not to wither as the vampire’s piercing attention falls upon me.

“I have no desire or need for a new valentine,” Viktoria says.

“Oh, please be certain, I have no intent to replace your dear Jonah, if such a thing were possible,” says Benjamin. “All I am offering is a taste. I think you will find it… refreshingly novel.”

Viktoria’s lips twitch in amusement. “I’m three hundred years old. I’ve given up on novelty.” Still, she holds out one delicate, long-fingered hand.

Benjamin clears his throat and nudges me. I finally realize what she wants, and flush as I hand over my blood card.

Her eyebrows lift as she snaps the fan open and reads the notes about me. She lowers it, looks up at me, and taps the tasting card against the arm of her chaise. “Very well,” she says, after a moment. “May I, dove?” She speaks directly to me for the first time, stunning me with the intensity of her pale gaze. I nod, unable to muster up words. She grabs the pen attached to the card and writes her name in the first slot with a flourish. “Move aside, please, my love.”

Jonah sighs and sits up, glaring daggers at me as he perches on the edge of the couch, as though he can’t bear moving any further from his patron. I think of him as a cranky shih tzu removed from his owner’s lap and have to suppress a giggle.

His isn’t the only gaze on me. Viktoria’s entire fan club is watching: some vampires with thinly veiled interest in their eyes, other humans almost as sulky and jealous as Jonah. I swallow a nervous joke and sit on the couch near Viktoria. She grabs me and pulls me onto her lap instead; after a darting glance at Benjamin, I let myself be situated there. The vampire moves me all too easily, an iron strength in her deceptively slender arms.

My pulse leaps, my body reacting to being so close to a vampire. Still, it doesn’t feel so bad to be held by her like this. It feels pretty good, actually, and I can’t fight the stir of interest deep in my belly. Her mouth is close enough to my neck to make me shiver, but as I recall Benjamin’s warning, I hold up a wrist in offering instead. She grips it with cold, pale fingers and brings it to her mouth.

She bites like a snake, a quick, darting moment, two needle-thin pinpricks of pain flaring to life on my wrist only to die just as quickly as that heady pleasure sinks in. But it barely lasts a second before she pushes my wrist away.

I stiffen and half turn to see Viktoria grabbing the wineglass she set aside. She brings it to her mouth and spits out a mouthful of my blood.

Judging from the shocked silence, this is unusual. I slide uncertainly off her lap as she sets the wineglass aside. Viktoria doesn’t even look at me, but up at Benjamin instead, disgust plain on her face.

Then she tosses her head back and laughs. Her mouth is still stained red with my blood. “A unique flavor , indeed! God, what a prank.” She presses the back of her hand to her mouth, shoulders shaking with amusement, as she glances around at the onlookers. “Apologies for the manners, but trust me, you’d do the same. I’ve never tasted anything quite so abhorrent.”

Abhorrent . The insult hits me like a fist to the stomach, and it’s all I can do to hold back tears as I get to my feet. Vampires and humans alike are glancing at me, chuckling, whispering behind their hands. Jonah is smirking at me from the couch like he’s won something.

“My precious, come here, help me get that taste out of my mouth,” Viktoria calls, and he moves over to her. She pulls him against her in a sensual embrace; the sound he makes when she bites his neck borders on obscene.

The display would fascinate me if it weren’t only heightening my humiliation. I turn away from them, seeking out Benjamin, who looks at me with sympathy and not a hint of surprise.

I take his proffered arm with a bit more force than necessary, squeezing myself tight against his side as he leads me away from Viktoria.

“You knew that was going to happen,” I hiss at him. “Why put me through that?”

He places a hand on my arm and gives me an apologetic look. “Look around and see.”

Huffing out an annoyed breath, I glance around. But that anger soon shifts to surprise as I notice all eyes on me. Heads turn to follow our slow progression through the party.

“Viktoria made you a spectacle,” Benjamin murmurs, low in my ear. “And vampires love a spectacle. Trust me, Amelia: the night has only just begun.”

* * *

Benjamin turns out to be entirely goddamn right.

It takes all of two minutes for another vampire to approach us, this one a gorgeous Black man in an all-white suit . He politely requests to take the next spot on my blood card, two hours from now, and leaves only to be replaced by another: a pretty blonde valentine with a black heart pin, asking for the third spot on behalf of her patron.

“I don’t understand,” I mutter, beelining to the buffet table as soon as I get a chance. Benjamin grasps me by the elbow and steers me away from the one I was aiming for—which I realize, on second glance, must be the blood-infused desserts for vampires—and toward another. “Viktoria made it very clear that I taste disgusting.”

The food is as dazzling as everything else. Platters of candied fruit arranged like a work of art, golden serving trays piled high with tea cakes and bite-sized tarts. Right now, I desperately need some sugar to get the bitter taste of humiliation out of my mouth.

“Imagine being hundreds of years old and hearing that you could experience something entirely new for the first time. Wouldn’t you be tempted, even if it wasn’t a pleasant experience?” Benjamin pauses to side-eye me as I shove an entire pink cupcake into my mouth. He sighs, grabs a porcelain dish, and fills it with a few choice options from the table before shoving it at me. “Beef carpaccio, spinach, potatoes,” he tells me. “You need iron and b-vitamins, not sugar.”

“Everyone else is eating sugar,” I retort. All around me are hopeful valentines snacking on delicate pastries, and chocolate-covered strawberries, and pretty little fruit tarts.

“Everyone else is aiming for sweet ,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Because they do not have the benefit of your distinctive flavor.” I’m about to tell him exactly how much I value this distinctive flavor and what it’s gotten me when his tone softens and he adds, “And they don’t have someone looking after them.”

I hate that it gets to me. It’s like a knee-jerk response for my heart to go all warm and melty whenever someone shows me the slightest bit of care. I don’t think I realized how long I had spent clinging to scraps of affection with Declan.

But that softness has never gotten me anything but trouble. “Aw, thanks, Daddy,” I tell him with as much sarcasm as I can muster. I take the plate and pop a thin slice of meat into my mouth with my fingers.

After rolling his eyes at me, Benjamin leads me on a spin around the dance floor, and I surprise myself by only stepping on his feet a couple times A few others ask to dance as well: a very serious man in a slim-cut suit, a shy woman with big blue eyes and a puffy dress to match, a gorgeous vampire of indiscernible gender wearing some kind of tuxedo-and-cape outfit I can’t make heads or tails of. Just when I’m starting to have fun, the time comes for my next blood appointment.

As I sit on the chaise and offer my wrist to the Black gentleman who took the slot on my card, I can’t help but notice that a small crowd of onlookers has gathered. The vampire is all gentility and softness as he takes my hand, and I barely feel the bite. But I do feel the sting when he pulls back, his expression puckering in a way that stands at stark odds with his usual politeness. He manages to compose himself and thanks me for the taste, but I’m beet red as he pulls away, especially when I notice the tittering of the onlookers behind their hands.

Feeling lightheaded either from the blood loss or the embarrassment, I spend the next couple of hours lounging while Benjamin fusses over me and brings me food.

All too soon, my next appointment arrives, and the crowd is even bigger this time.

I dislike the look of this smirking vampire with his dark hair slicked back, but I’ve already agreed, so I politely offer my wrist and a thin smile. He bites into me hard enough that I wince, and then pulls back just as quickly, letting out a theatrical sound of disgust and leaving blood spurting from my wrist. Benjamin is at my side quickly, dabbing at me with vampire blood to heal the wound, but that can’t take away the embarrassment.

The crowd laughs as I bleed. Louder this time, emboldened by the vampire’s mockery of me as he pretends to gag and retch. He slinks into the crowd without another glance, loudly describing the foul taste of my blood to anyone who will listen.

I suck in a breath and will myself not to let despair show on my expression. I will not let these people see that they’re hurting me. And there’s no need to be hurt, not really. It’s not like I can control it. And I’m getting paid either way. So why do I feel this way? Why does it feel like the sharp sting of rejection, over and over again, bringing me back to that door slamming in my face as I left Declan’s apartment?

I shut my eyes, fighting back tears. Benjamin touches my shoulder. At first, I think he’s offering polite comfort, but when I open my eyes again, I see that he’s also getting my attention because two more vampires are coming my way to politely inquire about my blood card.

I force my head up and plaster on a smile. If nothing else, at least I am a novelty.