Her Master's Servant (Lord and Master Book 2) (7 page)

‘Stefan!’ Kayla cried, collaring him as he walked past with Isabelle. ‘Stefan, look!’

‘How can I help you, Kayla?’ he said graciously, glancing at Luna, his eyes dropping briefly to Scott’s hand, now on her upper thigh. And Luna imagined, though again, she couldn’t say for sure, that his lips thinned.

Kayla swept her hand toward the screen and said, ‘Anything look familiar to you?’

Luna wasn’t about to stick around for this, particularly with Isabelle standing there pointedly blanking her despite the fact they’d known each other since childhood. Looking down at the hairy lake creature whose hand was now firmly on her butt, she said, ‘Let’s dance.’

As she and Scott moved back into the main tent, she heard Kayla explode with laughter again, and Stefan observe blandly, ‘Now that you mention it, I do see a resemblance.’

Looking back in the years that followed, Luna saw this moment as the tipping point, the exact moment in time when the party started to spin out of control.

Over the next several songs, she didn’t need Kayla to procure dance partners for her. Scott quickly confirmed with his mates that their secret was out, and suddenly she had a steady stream of lake creatures lining up to partner her. Or her arse, as the case may have been, because as the evening descended into downright drunkenness, liberties were being taken all over the party tent. And who was she to quibble about a bit of handsy-ness when the party was going so well?

Even Jem finally relaxed and started to enjoy herself, sidling up to Luna in a break between songs and clasping her arms around her waist. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she said, tilting her face up to smile at Luna. ‘I am soooo happy you’re here. You look beautiful, by the way.’

Luna shook her head. ‘I would have to come dressed as the same character as Isabelle, wouldn’t I?’

‘You’re worth ten of her,’ Jem said vehemently. Like Luna, Jem had known the Marchioness’s youngest daughter since grammar school and had formed deeply entrenched negative views of her. Jem’s boyfriend and business partner Rod approached, enquiring in an accent that was equal parts Mancunian and Kenyan, ‘Can I get you girls a drink?’

Before Luna could reply, the opening strains of the next song began to play and she felt a shudder go down her spine.

‘Fuck me,’ said Jem. ‘It’s the Backstreet Boys.’

Jem had good reason to be dismayed. The defunct American boy band was a shared childhood obsession of Nancy and Kayla’s, so much so that during their first year at the University of Manchester they forced new roommates Jem and Luna to enter a Halloween dance contest performing to this, the band’s most successful anthem.

Surveying the tent anxiously, Jem said, ‘Let’s get out of here before they—’

‘Jem!’ Nancy yelled from the dance floor. ‘Jem, get out here!’

It was no exaggeration to say that the expression that came over Jem’s face then was one of sheer, blind panic. Nancy had been a vicious taskmaster during their endless rehearsals for the dance contest, and as her chosen partner Jem came in for much of her vitriol. Luna, in the meantime, had had a more helpful partner in Kayla, who materialised from the loos at that very moment, running to clutch Nancy’s hand in joint delirium.

‘Come on, babe, come on!’ she shouted, waving urgently to Luna.

Luna sighed. They weren’t going to get out of this. Ah, God, Kayla was actually stood in the centre of the dance floor now, howling along with Brian Littrell to some of the worst lyrics in pop music history, heralding the Backstreet Boys’ mission to ensure that the entire world rocked its body.

Truth be told, Luna had a secret soft spot for this song. In addition to being an actress and singer, Kayla was an accomplished dancer; it was no exaggeration to say that over the years, she’d taught Luna every decent dance move she knew, and their rehearsals for the dance contest had marked the start of their friendship.

‘The choreography for this song is actually really simple,’ Luna remembered Kayla saying reassuringly as they sat watching the video together in their dorm room. When Luna looked dubious, Kayla laughed and said, ‘You can do it, I promise.’

Sure enough, as she and Jem joined Kayla and Nancy and a few others on the dance floor, it was like riding a bike, going through their old moves, Kayla quietly prompting her in time to the music.

‘And hop. And twist. And shuffle. To the left. And bend. And lift. And shake. Your lit-tle-butt.’

Nancy was being slightly less supportive of Jem, screeching, ‘
Move
, bitch!’ as the number transitioned into Luna’s favourite bit, where they coupled off into a swing dance, just like in the video. Kayla twirled her around the floor (because of course Luna and Jem were the ‘girls’ in the routine, and Kayla and Nancy were both Brian Littrell, apparently), Luna noticing to her complete amazement that some of the other dancers were also mimicking the moves in the video. Who knew the Backstreet Boys had such a UK fan base?

She saw Rod standing next to Stefan, gesticulating toward them animatedly. And Luna knew, she could tell from the massive grin on his face, that he was encouraging Stefan to keep watching. Their performance featured a ‘money shot’, Kayla having decided during rehearsals that they needed to make the routine more ‘sex-u-al’ even though, as Luna privately observed to Jem, ‘This is literally the least sexual song
ever.
’

In the video, the boy band members were all dressed as horror figures, the mummy, a wolf man, and the like. There was one brief shot of one of the singers, dressed as a vampire, hungering over a beautiful model’s throat, and it was this that inspired Kayla to add a sapphic element to their routine.

They were approaching that part of the song now, where the music slowed down just before the big crescendo. Just as they’d done at university, Kayla and Nancy reeled Luna and Jem out, then back into their arms, clasping them covetously. Kayla ran her hands up Luna’s thighs and over the curve of her waist. Then took Luna’s head in both hands, abruptly jerking it to the side, exposing her neck.

‘We’re doing the PG-13 version, right?’ Luna could hear Jem saying. ‘Because my
mother
is watching.’

The music faded to almost nothing. Kayla’s talons drew along Luna’s neck, and her voice filled Luna’s ear: ‘He’s watching you.’ Her hand slithered up Luna’s ribs. ‘Make him
suffer
.’

Luna did as she was bidden, allowing her head to fall back on Kayla’s shoulder and her eyelids to slide shut. And as the song began to rev back up again, Kayla placed her hand on Luna’s breast, bared her teeth… and sunk them into Luna’s neck.

‘Ow! You fucking—
Ow!
’ Jem cried.

‘Ah. Ahhhhh,’ Luna whimpered in pain.

Then the four of them sprung apart, hurling themselves into the final frenzied portion of the routine. The floor was literally writhing with dancers now and sweat was beginning to drip down Luna’s back. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the entire membership of Rod Studios’ lake creature posse standing at the edge of the dance floor, mouths agape. As the chorus reached its closing bars, she shouted to the other dancers, ‘Stand back! Stand back!’ For, like Brian Littrell, Kayla was an ex-gymnast, and her final move was a showstopper.

‘Rock your body!’
the crowd was chanting, hands in the air, forming a wide circle around Kayla, who, as the music reached its final, ear-splitting crescendo, crouched, swung her elbows behind her, and performed a perfect backflip.

The room erupted, Jem’s mother and sisters screaming and whistling from the sidelines and Kayla’s fellow lake creatures rushing the floor to congratulate her. ‘God, you
are
Brian,’ Nancy shouted to Kayla as Luna and Jem walked away, clutching their necks.

Rod was waiting for them with two glasses of champagne. Placing his arm around Jem’s waist, he growled, ‘If you weren’t dressed as a schoolboy…’ then added, ‘You girls won that contest at uni, didn’t you?’

‘Too right we won it,’ Luna nodded.

‘We
dominated
that contest,’ said Jem.

Luna was glad, then, that she had come, standing with Jem and Rod, chatting and reminiscing. Stefan had turned away to talk to someone else and she was stood back to back with him, close enough to feel the heat of him, her arm brushing his shoulder as she lifted her chignon off her neck to let the sweat there evaporate.

‘…of course,’ Rod was saying to her, ‘we owe all this to you. And Stefan. Oi, Stefan!’

Stefan turned around and Rod reiterated, ‘I was just saying to Luna, this is all thanks to you two.’

Luna and Stefan simultaneously began to demur.

‘I didn’t really do anything,’ Luna disagreed as Stefan said, ‘You have only yourselves to thank.’ Realising they were stumbling over each other to refuse credit, they looked at each other and laughed. It felt entirely natural then, when Stefan put a casual arm around Luna’s shoulder, so she responded by putting hers around his waist.

Maybe, she thought for a brief millisecond, this is all okay. Maybe we can be friends.

Her body, however, disagreed. It didn’t view Stefan’s body as a ‘friend’ and instead responded as it always did when next to his. It was involuntary, she swore it was, but for just a moment it melted into his. This time there was no imagining his reaction. His hand tightened on her shoulder, pulling her against him even as she attempted to correct herself, to turn this back into a friendly gesture rather than… God help her, she could actually
feel
the swift, silent communication between their nervous systems.

‘Darling,’ came Isabelle’s voice from Stefan’s other side, ‘I’m thinking of making a move.’ To Luna’s horror, Stefan turned slightly and put his free arm around Isabelle.

‘Come on, Isabelle,’ Jem said, glancing at Luna apprehensively. ‘The night is young.’

‘We have to be up early, don’t we, Stefan?’ Isabelle said sweetly. ‘Other commitments…’

‘Isabelle and I are cutting the ribbon at a day care centre in Deersley,’ Stefan explained as Luna stiffened and every hair on her body stood on end. If she could have arched her back and hissed at him like a cat, she would have, as much as she wanted his hand off her shoulder.

‘Care to dance?’ came a voice next to her. Ashley Eccles from the stables, if she wasn’t mistaken, looking slightly less pimply these days but no less ill at ease in his rented tuxedo.

She could have kissed him. ‘Love to,’ she replied gratefully, slipping out from underneath Stefan’s arm, pointedly draining her champagne glass and handing it to Jem before taking Ashley’s hand.

‘That was quite a show you lot put on out there,’ Ashley slurred a few minutes later as they danced to one of John Legend’s many love ballads. Ashley, Luna had soon realised, was very, very drunk. ‘I always thought when you used to work here,’ he continued, ‘that you were a bit prissy. Stuck up. But you’re alright.’

‘Thanks for that,’ Luna responded, her sarcasm clearly lost on the inebriated stable hand, whose hands were frankly all over her, one moving down the bare skin on her back and the other… the other tracing the top of her stocking through her dress. Jesus wept! What was it about men feeling her up tonight? Luna jerked bolt upright, pushing Ashley away from her and saying, ‘Whoa there,’ as a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

‘Go outside and sober up,’ Stefan commanded harshly.

‘S-sorry, Mr Lundgren,’ Ashley stuttered. He lurched drunkenly away and Stefan stepped closer to Luna, taking her in his arms and continuing the dance.

‘I was dealing with that,’ she said waspishly. ‘I didn’t need your help.’

‘I wasn’t offering it,’ he replied, his hand skimming her waist. ‘I’ve just been patiently waiting my turn, since it appears that everyone at the party tonight gets a go at your erogenous zones.’

Luna glared up at him. ‘Oh, and you’re a fine one to talk, Uncle Stefan,’ she replied scathingly. ‘Cradle robbing now, are we? And how long did you wait, after I left, to crawl into Isabelle’s bed? A week? A day?’

With that, Stefan pulled her so close that his mouth was next to her ear. ‘Why do you care, Luna?’ he murmured, moving her in a slow circle on the floor. ‘It was you who left me.’

And there it was. He was right. She had no right to care who he was sleeping with, no claim on him. So she said nothing, continuing to dance and inwardly cursing John Legend and all his oeuvre.

‘While we’re at it,’ Stefan said eventually, ‘why are you here? I can only assume it’s to make me jealous, but really, Luna, stable boys fondling you on the dance floor? It’s a little sad, isn’t it?’

Luna bridled and attempted to pull away from him. ‘I’m here because Jem asked me, you fucking—’

‘She’s watching us,’ Stefan warned. Luna turned to see Jem standing next to the bar, observing the two of them nervously. Pasting a smile on her face, she gave her friend a quick thumbs up.
Look, look how much fun we’re having!
Then returned her gaze to Stefan, her smile hardening into a rictus.

‘Who the hell are you,’ she hissed between her teeth, ‘to stand in judgement of me. You with your kissing cousin and your pubescent fan club.’ Honestly, she was shocked at the torrent of anger coursing through her. Sadness, yes. Jealousy, even – those she’d expected to feel tonight. But this all-consuming rage?

‘At least I’m properly clothed,’ Stefan rejoined, eyes devouring her. ‘Are you wearing a dress that leaves nothing to the imagination on purpose, I wonder, or was there no mirror at your fitting this afternoon?’

The song came to an end and she immediately disengaged from him, quelling an urge to reach up and run her claws across his face. She turned on her heel to witness Nancy making out with the coat check attendant from earlier. So much for sisterly solidarity. Kayla, meanwhile, had forced out the DJ and was manning the decks herself, looking like some kind of deranged octopus in all her green finery.

Luna went and talked to Jem’s eldest sister, who’d spent some time in the Shetlands on an archaeological dig during university. She switched from champagne to water and refused further offers to dance, claiming exhaustion. She sat at a table for a while with Roland and Caitlin, exchanging wary glances with Caitlin when Alex came over begging Roland to go outside with him while he had a fag. She kept her posterior out of sight, to the clear chagrin of the lake creature posse.

The party was still going strong at 2.30am, when she decided she’d had enough. Predictably, the coat check desk was abandoned, its occupant currently engaged in searching for Nancy’s tonsils with his tongue. And her backpack wasn’t on the shelf where she’d left it. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ she muttered to herself, stalking toward Emma from Events, who was chain smoking with Alex next to the entrance.

Emma assured her that her backpack hadn’t been stolen, but instead transported up to her room at the house.

‘But I’m not staying here,’ Luna protested.

‘Oh, you are,’ Emma contradicted, whipping out her tablet. ‘See?’ She pointed to a corner room in the west wing. ‘There’s your name.’