Party Foul

My eyes remained locked on the mystery guy whose nature I couldn't quite place. His lithe, athletic body wore the tailored tuxedo he had on with an effortless grace, his shiny, polished shoes clicking softly against the concrete as he walked. Beside me, Farrah and the twins were all suddenly mute, the arrival of the newcomers causing a silence among them that I hadn't experienced since meeting any of them. My eyes carefully tracked their approach, noting, with a jolt, that tall, dark, and handsome also had his eyes on me, his gaze direct and assessing.

"Good evening, ladies," he said, his voice a smooth, deep rumble that sent instant goosebumps prickling down my arms. "Allow me to introduce myself and my friends here. These are my friends, Drew Matthews and Dave Lawson." Both guys nodded their heads in polite acknowledgment as their names were spoken. Drew had a mop of messy blonde curls that constantly fell about his face, and every so often, he'd drag a hand through it in a futile attempt to tame the unruly strands. Dave, on the other hand, had impeccably styled dark brown hair that was swept neatly to the side, not a single strand out of place. Both guys, with their striking features and composed demeanors, could probably be models on the cover of magazines if they wanted to.

"And I'm Asher Miller." He said it in a way that clearly indicated we should know who he was, that his name carried weight and recognition. It was delivered with an almost arrogant confidence, a quiet expectation. No one here, however, knew that both Farrah and I had only just come from the Institute, isolated from the wider supernatural world, so we would have no idea if he was indeed famous or some significant figure.

Leave it to Farrah to ask the hard, blunt questions. "Should we know who you are or something? 'Cause I can tell you right now, we don't." At this, the twins finally found their voices, if the sharp gasps they let out were any indication. Their eyes were wide with a mixture of shock and mortification.

"Are you insane?" Melody hissed, her voice a scandalized whisper, pointing dramatically at Asher. Lyric immediately mirrored her gesture. "That," Melody continued, her voice gaining strength, "is the son of Gregory Miller. Their family is the oldest pure-blood vampire family on this continent!" Both Farrah and I turned to look at Asher once more, this new information altering my perception of him. With this revelation, I could suddenly understand the powerful, almost suffocating aura that emanated from him.

Unlike hybrids, who are relatively plentiful in the supernatural world, pure-bloods are few and far between, a truly rare and coveted lineage. There are only about a dozen pure-blood vampire families on this side of the globe, and apparently, his was the oldest, the most venerated among them. This wasn't just old money; this was ancient power, distilled through generations.

"Sorry," I offered, quickly trying to smooth over Farrah's bluntness. "We're new here, and we don't know any of the people here tonight or their family history yet."

He simply waved it off with a casual flick of his wrist, as if it were no big deal, his composure unbroken. This close up, I could see his eyes had a distinct, subtle red tint to them, a deeper crimson hue that caused my heart to inexplicably race. Red eyes on a vampire, or even a hybrid, would typically indicate regular blood consumption, a preference for the raw, potent source rather than the synthesized alternatives. There was nothing inherently wrong with it, really; it was in our nature, a fundamental aspect of vampire physiology. It's just that most preferred not to display it so openly, opting for the more 'human' appearance of golden or amber eyes that came from consuming processed blood substitutes. I had honestly never met anyone who overtly chose to consume blood in its natural form before. Before I could ask an embarrassing question – how does blood taste? or some other messed-up, awkward thing that my unfiltered brain conjured – the door behind us opened once again, and my grandfather walked out, thankfully interrupting my spiraling thoughts.

"There you are," he said, a warm, gentle smile on his face. "Sorry to take you away, but your grandmother is looking for you both." He went back inside, probably expecting that we would follow behind him immediately. I stood, pulling Farrah along with me. "Please excuse us," I said to everyone at large, feeling the familiar tug of social obligation, "duty calls, I guess." Farrah, ever gregarious, waved a cheerful goodbye to Melody and Lyric. Before I could even reach for the doorknob, Asher did it for me, his movements swift and elegant. "I'll be seeing you around, Genesis," he purred, his voice low and intimate, making the hair on my arms stand on end. "Until then, be safe." I practically stumbled through the doorway, Farrah not too far behind, leaving the cool night air for the heated interior. Did it suddenly get hot in here? I wondered, my cheeks feeling suspiciously warm.

Turns out we weren't truly needed after all. Grandma was only trying to locate us to make sure we were okay, a subtle check-in. Now, with the auction portion of the evening done, this next part of the gathering was clearly more for the youngsters than the adults. Music more suited for our age group, upbeat and rhythmic, filtered out of the overhead speakers, prompting spontaneous dancing from the more free-spirited kids. I, unfortunately, was not one of them. My dance moves typically consisted of a hesitant shuffle and an awkward sway. Farrah, on the other hand, was born for the dance floor. After many failed attempts at getting me to join her in the jerky, enthusiastic movements she made with her hands and legs, I was nothing but thrilled when Melody and Lyric, sensing my discomfort, came over and were more than happy to enjoy the music with her, their laughter soon mingling on the dance floor.

Sitting alone on an abandoned chair, tucked away in a quiet corner of the expansive ballroom, I looked on as my best friend had the time of her life, completely uninhibited. Her joyful laughter carried across the room, making its way to my ears, and I couldn't help but smile, a genuine warmth spreading through me despite my own anxieties. So caught up in her antics on the dancefloor, I hadn't noticed the bodies moving closer to me off to my right until I heard someone politely clear their throat. My head snapped up. When my eyes landed on Echo's, a familiar jolt went through me, and I had to quickly remind myself that he was in a relationship. Honestly, it wasn't that hard to remember, since Eteneia was practically glued to his side like a koala on a tree, her slender arm possessively looped through his.

"Hi, we haven't been introduced yet, I'm—" he began, his voice deep and melodic.

"Echo," I cut him off, the name escaping me before I could think better of it. I silently scolded myself for sounding like a stalker and quickly tried to cover it up, my cheeks warming. "And that's Dennis and Ryan. And of course, Eteneia. My new friends over there have been giving us a play-by-play on everyone." I gestured discreetly with a finger in the direction of the three maniacs—Farrah, Melody, and Lyric—living it up on the dance floor, their energetic movements a whirlwind of limbs.

Chuckling slightly, a low, rumbling sound, he said, "Ah, the Griffin twins. Well, we were about to head out, but we wanted to say a quick hello first. Our Chief couldn't make it tonight; he usually attends with the freshmen, but he had a lot more preparations than usual for the upcoming semester."

I am not going to lie, I could listen to him talk all day long. I wouldn't even care if he were saying actual words, just the sound of his voice was captivating. It was a rich, smooth baritone, infused with a certain rugged charm that was entirely separate from Asher's refined elegance.

Snap out of it, Gen. Come on!

"Oh yeah? Why's that? Are there more of you going off to the Academy than just you four?" I asked, forcing myself to sound casual, hoping to prolong the conversation. That's it, Genesis, say more words just like that, intelligent and curious.

Ryan was the one who answered, and I felt inwardly disappointed that it wasn't Echo. "Nah, just us, but he's the head of the Academy, third year running, so he's just trying to ensure everything is perfect for the arrival of Mrs. St'Clair's kids." Dennis, quick as a flash, elbowed him sharply in the stomach, cutting the wind out of him. Ryan doubled over, sputtering.

I couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, mirthful sound. "It's fine, guys. You should tell Chief Cree not to go through too much trouble; we're just normal students like any other."

"See, it's literally what I've been saying since he got that call. They're nothing special." Eteneia’s voice, sharp and dismissive, cut through the air. For some reason, when she said it, it cut a bit, a small, unexpected sting. I didn't know what her problem was, but she could definitely suck an egg. Her tone was laced with an almost childish jealousy, yet her eyes held an ancient, calculating coldness.

"Uh, okay, I think that's our cue to leave," Ryan mumbled, clearly uncomfortable with Eteneia's rudeness. Both he and Dennis turned to leave, retreating quickly. Eteneia, before following them, looked me up and down, a slow, disdainful sweep of her gaze, then rolled her eyes with an audible huff and stalked off as well, her movements stiff with indignation.

Echo, however, lingered for a moment, his gaze softening as it met mine. "Sorry about her," he said, his voice a low apology. "She can be a bit of a brat sometimes. I'll be seeing you around, though."

"Yeah, sure, no problem." Dammit, Genesis, use your words! Say something coherent!

"Goodnight, Genesis." The way he purred my name, drawing out the syllables, was just... gah, so sexy. It vibrated through me, a warm thrill.

"Goodnight, sexy." The words flew out of my mouth before I could even process them. My eyes widened in horror. Did I just...? "NO!" I blurted, my face flaming. "Not you sexy. I meant goodnight, I'm sexy. No, wait! Echo, goodnight Echo was what I was saying!" Before I could embarrass myself further, perhaps by spontaneously combusting from mortification, I spun around and practically ran across the room, no doubt my cheeks were aflame, a vivid, betraying crimson.

Why do I have to be such a freak all the time? Bury me now.