Royal Blood: A Four Story Paranormal Romance Collection

Alice Jones stifled a gag as she entered the perfume-saturated air of the high-end art gallery. Everything about the daunting gallery's decor was first-class rough chic, from the staggering large rooms with artistically exposed pipes in the ceiling to the intimate nooks of brick and glass. Alice's borrowed stilettos threatened to dump her on her a*s with every step, but she was determined to keep her head up. Classy. Remember you're supposed to be classy, she thought. With each nervous step, Alice half-expected someone to shout "plebeian intruder!" in her direction and tear her photographs off the wall. But, so far, the wealthy guests were nodding at her work politely and smiling as widely as their Botox allowed. A heavy glass of wine materialized in her hand, and Alice looked up into the flashing grin of the gallery's owner, Margot Dal. "You looked like you needed a drink." Margot nodded towards the glass, which was filled so high Alice was sure a slight breeze would spill it down her front. "To wear?" Alice asked. She made a show of carefully craning down to sip at the brimming drink without moving her hand, while still sending Margot a grateful smile. Alice had been working closely with Margot over the last few weeks to prepare for the opening, but the tall, statuesque woman still intimidated the crap out of Alice. "What can I say? A good friend pushes your boundaries." Margot seemed to only be paying half attention to what she was saying, her eyes already roaming the crowd like she was looking for someone. Alice forced herself not to fidget. She'd give anything for even half of Margot's composure. Margot looked effortlessly comfortable wherever she was, but within her gallery she was striking. Her dark skin glowed golden in the light, and her black dress was simple, tasteful, and probably cost more than twice Alice's rent. For her photographs' first big debut, Alice had scraped together every spare penny to get a new dress. She caught her own reflection and frowned. Her red hair was coming undone from her tightly-wound braid, sending out stray tendrils, and her bright blue eyes looked unnaturally wide between the thick lines of eye makeup. The strapless green dress wasn't too bad. It hugged her body, emphasizing the curve of her waist, with elaborate white beading along the top drawing the eye to her peeking cleavage. A purple shawl covered her shoulders and across her neck, the same color as her chandelier-beaded earrings. She resisted the urge to hide herself in the folds of her shawl. The longer she was here, the more she wished she'd taken up Margot's offer to borrow one of her many designer gowns. "So, do you know if there have been any sales yet?" Alice sipped her drink cautiously, keeping her voice casual like she didn't particularly care about the answer. Margot chuckled, not fooled at all. "Don't you worry, sweetie. Little red dots indicating finalized sales are going up all over the place." She raised her eyebrows at Alice. "But you know what would help those sales?" "What?" Alice's stomach sank. She already knew what Margot was going to say. "You need to talk to people. Help them get to know you, the stories behind your work." Margot flicked her wrist, the small gesture taking in the rest of the people in the gallery. "You know these rich folks; it's not just the art they want, it's the secrets behind the art." Margot gave Alice a stern look. "Sip down at least an inch of that wine and then shoo from this corner before I prod you out with a broom." Her tone was joking, but Alice had no doubt Margot would actually do it. A woman who looked like she'd stepped off the cover of a magazine walked by and winked at Margot. The gallery owner grabbed a new glass of wine from a passing waiter and smiled. "Duty calls." Margot licked her lips and then gave Alice's hand a squeeze. "You can do this. This is your big night! Enjoy it." And then she was gone. Alice blinked and Margot was already on the other side of the room, smiling wide and standing intimately close to the cover girl. Alice stared down at her drink. A couple more sips and it would be at a manageable height for mingling. She contemplated hiding in the corner for another hour just to be contrary, but she knew Margot was right. This show was her big chance to make the connections and cash to launch her photography career and escape her crappy day job as an administrative assistant. She took a deep gulp of the wine. No more paperwork. No more endless commutes. No more wedging in photo shoots during thirty-minute lunch breaks. Talking to strangers was downright palatable if it meant she could quit her soul-sucking corporate job. Her hand tightened around the stem of her wine glass. A well-dressed couple Alice vaguely recognized from a reality TV show were staring at her. The woman played with the edge of her leopard-print jacket while the man kept fiddling with his phone. "It's all so derivative and prosaic." The woman sniffed loudly. "Rhys will have a good laugh over Margot's descent from good taste. What's with all the..." The woman pointed at Alice's closest photo, a high-contrast image of the bolts on the side of a trashcan at dusk. Alice fought to keep a blush from creeping up her face. The man looked up from his phone. "What’s that, snookums?" "The title of the show, Detail Wonders. What's wondrous about a stupid trash can?" The man shrugged. "Some rock star just bought the one with the hairbrush for five figures. He said it was urban or something." "Humans, am I right? Such bullshit." She rubbed her nose, mumbling something about having to go to the bathroom, and the man nodded and followed. Alice fought the urge to bury herself deeper into the corner. Bullshit? Getting the perfect photo required understanding the precise angle of the light, or catching the exact moment when the sun hit the-- Alice shook her head. You can do this. You don't need their respect or their understanding. Someone just bought one of my photos for five figures! They can't all be shallow jerks. Just step up. She managed to push forward one foot, then the next, until momentum pulled the rest of her toward the center of the room. No day job. No day job. The words were a steady chant in her head as she smiled and nodded her way around the room. The folks who recognized her from the program's bio called out a few generic congratulations about her first big show. It was all very nice, but by the fiftieth time Alice told someone, "Yes, it's a real honor to be here," she worried her strain was starting to show. Alice dabbed at the sweat behind her neck, looking around for Margot. Will she skin me if I just pretend to have a headache and leave? Alice wondered. "I didn't think it could be possible for the artist to be more beautiful than the artwork," a smooth voice said from behind her. Alice whipped around. Her glass tilted in her hand and she watched in what felt like slow motion as wine flew out of her glass in an arc toward a tall man with a trim beard standing a few feet away. The wine sprayed across him like a murder scene. Noooooo. She reached out a hand like she could grab the liquid back from the air, but it was too late. The stain was already seeping through his crisp, white shirt like a blobby map of Asia across his chest. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" Alice cried, jumping forward to dab the end of her shawl on the stain. "It's quite all right." The man’s voice was low and musical, sending little shivers down her spine. "This shirt needed a splash of color anyway." Alice snuck a glance at his face, and his smile beamed at her like she was caught in a spotlight. She wanted to photograph his face from every angle. The Golden Ratio perfection of his features, the scruff of beard along the slope of his chin, the slight laugh lines around his mouth, and the care furrows on his forehead all demanded a zoom-in lens and the brightest light she could muster. She'd never been much for taking portraits, but this man--with the smile growing wider the longer she stared at him--was one she wanted to make into an intense study. Preferably nude. "Um, hi. I'm Alice, and, uh, I take photos." Her words rushed out in a semi-incoherent string. She took a slow breath, forced herself to straighten up and stop staring at the sculpted muscles she could see through his wet shirt. "I'm usually more eloquent, I swear." He laughed. "I believe it. Margot told me a lot about you; she's an old friend." He held out a hand. "Christopher Dal." "Christopher Dal?" Alice shook his hand, feeling callouses along his palm that she didn't expect from somebody in a bespoke suit. "You and Margot have the same last name. Are you related?" They didn't look at all alike, but families came in all shapes and sizes. He smiled. "No relation, but we've known each other so long she feels like family." Alice felt a brief pang. She'd left behind all her hometown friends when she moved to the big city and had lost touch with everyone over the years. Between her job and her art, it was hard to find the time to make new friends. The warmth and familiarity in Christopher's voice when he said Margot's name sent a spike of loneliness through her. She forced a smile. Christopher pointed at the picture behind her. "Your photos are remarkable." "Thanks." She moved a wild strand of hair behind her ear, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "No, I mean it." Christopher stepped a little closer. "They're extraordinary. The way you honed in on such tiny details within mundane objects to find the hidden beauty is amazing. You have a remarkable eye." Alice's repeated, "Thanks" was much more sincere this time. A happy warmth suffused her chest, flowing outward. Finally! "Of all the people I've talked to tonight, you're the first one to understand that," Alice said. "I really appreciate it. I wanted people to walk away from this show with a new appreciation for the small details all around us." Christopher smiled. "Isn’t it fascinating how art can do that? It can present something that we look at every day in a different light to put the object into a new context." Alice wanted to hug him. "That's exactly what I think! Beauty isn’t just a sunset over the mountains." Her words picked up speed as she warmed to her topic. "Beauty can be the rim of a mailbox and how it complements the home behind it, or the construction of an anthill." Christopher touched her hand and she felt the coolness of his skin like a soothing balm all the way down her arm. "You're an amazing artist, Alice. Do you realize how rare it is that you can see that, and then capture it so that others can see it too? You should be doing this full time." Alice blushed. "You're being kind. I wish I had more time to really embrace my art." She pointed to a red dot next to the photo of a split tree. "I'm hoping the sales from tonight can help with that. I was lucky the light happened to be right a few minutes after I found that tree, but I almost missed it because of a meeting at work that ran late. There's never enough time to find every beautiful moment that's out there, but I’d sure like the chance to try." Alice glanced accusingly at her wine, surprised she'd shared so much with a total stranger. From his small nods and understanding expression, Christopher seemed to know exactly what she meant. "The world is so big,” she said, “I wish I had the time to capture everything." Christopher's grin broadened. "You never know. From what I've seen, tonight has been even more successful than even Margot anticipated." He held out his arm. "I've kept you too long from the rest of your guests. Do you feel like braving them together?" Alice nodded, looping her arm through his and feeling the cords of muscles through his coat. Perhaps talking with strangers wasn't so bad, after all.