Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 47 - 51

Chapter 47: Chapter 51

Avara POV

After going through a rigorous beauty regimen: pampering, facials, manicure and pedicure, also undergoing a new skin-care routine with organic creams and scented oils. I’m back in my bedroom, back at the estate with my dress for tonight, currently worn by a mannequin. I have a team of stylists to prepare me; makeup and hair. They argue around me, debating what colors go best with what accessories to use, whilst I sit still like a good little doll.

Luciano comes into the room, eyes flaring at the chaotic sight.

"I pity you for the actual day of your fake wedding."

I smile at him through the mirror of the vanity table.

"How are things on your end?"

He dodges a petite woman who darts past him like a bullet.

"Designer suit. Nice and simple."

My shoulders slump. "I envy you." I wince, one of them pulling at my hair. "How are the Vacherons?"

"Colton is still pissed," he says with a self-satisfied laugh. "You should’ve seen it. When you were at the spa. Colton chucked them both into the infinity pool. He was still lashing out at them even now... not going to lie. It made me feel a lot better."

I chaff at that. "Nice to know their suffering gives you comfort."

"Oh, it does," he says unapologetically.

Luciano hangs around as the team finishes prepping me. My makeup is golden and gaudy with a glittering eyeshadow and contouring that accentuates my face and exaggerates my high cheekbones. They braid my hair into an intricate plait, threading it with gold wiring before tying it high.

Now, it’s time to put on the dress. They remove it from the mannequin and they help me into it. They guide me to the standing mirror so I can see it for myself. The completed look. And I look unrecognizable, otherworldly even... wishing Botan could see me. The golden gown is like a smelted bullion, a river of gold pooling at my feet, long-sleeved with gilt patterns at the wrists. The chest is cut open with an intricate lattice of gilded netting that continues to my bare back and unfurls to a heavy cape of gold-plated metalwork.

I glance at Luciano, who stands beside me, agape.

"How do I look?"

"Like something out of heaven."

***

Bahadur said that the party is being hosted at a villa. Which is a grouse understatement because this place is massive with a soaring minaret and bright tilework. It’s incredible, the gilded edges, cedar wood, brass, sweeping archways, huge chandeliers, and marble features that all complete the effects of grandeur. There are plenty of delicate Islamic-style arches throughout the palace, as well as fountains and painted ceilings.

Vance and I walk inside, hand-in-hand, dazzled by the stained glass and dainty silk panels.

"This is remarkable," I breathe, spectating the geometrical floral patterns on the walls.

A procession of face-covered servers offer gourmet appetizers to the elitists. The main event is awash with a gleaming crowd wrapped in exotic fabrics. There are trapeze artists, live music, adorned dancers, and a colorful light show meant to impress. A true Arabian night.

Landen swaggers onto the scene and takes two glasses from a server’s tray. He sends her a wink and struts over to us before placing one of each in Vance and I’s hands. We hold them warily. Landen smiles at me roguishly and looks back at his brother.

"Why so serious?" he says, hooking his pinkie finger into his mouth to stretch his smile like the joker.

He twirls around and melts into the crowd.

Not long after, the host of the party makes his appearance, riding a temple elephant. A howdah mounted on its back, a carriage with an awning, elaborately decorated with drapes and gemstones. Bahadur looks skyward with his nose turned up lordly as everyone gasps and whispers excitedly. Each stomp of the elephant sends a quake through the ground beneath our feet. The elephant stops by the stage and Bahadur is assisted to the ground. He struts over to the stage with a cordless microphone. He opens the night with a speech, switching between English and Arabic.

"This event is not like the ones before," he says with an arrogant flair in his voice. "This one is for the history books, so enjoy as you watch history unfold."

He moves away. A group of dancers clad in crimson prance onto the stage.

I lean into Vance. "Did Bahadur tell you when your cue is?"

He nods. "He said Landen will let me know."

I snort a laugh. "If he’s sober enough to remember."

Vance frees a humored breath and faces me. "How are you feeling? Are you ready?"

I nod, the tempo of my heart picking up just thinking about it.

"Avara?"

I nod quickly. "Yes... I don’t really have a choice but to be ready."

I take a sip of the drink thoughtlessly. I grimace at the bitter taste. I walk away, weaving through the crowd, trailing gold with every step as I go to the buffet table to deposit the drink. From there, I watch the spectacle on the stage as a troupe of professional fire dancers descend, putting on a breath-taking performance with the art of fire.

After the performance, Landen emerges on the stage, rousing a cheer from the crowd.

"Evening everyone."

They all respond collectively and warmly.

"I’m here to bring Bahadur’s words to life," he says with a fanfare of theatrics. "This isn’t an ordinary event. It’s a celebration. A celebration of love and lust."

A few scattered laughs.

"I’m sure everyone is aware of my reputation. A man to many women," he says with a bored drawl. "Maybe once. But I’m here to tell you that the rumors are no longer true. I’m a man to one woman. A woman who’s pushed me to grow, to become the man worthy of her grace. My muse, my golden goddess—she’s here with me tonight."

No...

Landen’s eyes scour the crowd until he finds me. He captures my gaze and my legs nearly give in.

"Avara Du Pont. Can you please come up here, baby?"