Chapter 2

Cassandra's POV

The next afternoon.

The weather was rather gloomy, with fine drizzle drifting through New York's sky—perfect weather for vampires. I drove a black Range Rover into the grounds of St. Cecilia Manor, the secluded vampire sanatorium hidden in the suburbs.

When I pushed open the door to the reception room, I saw Serena sitting on a velvet sofa.

She was still so beautiful. God, after becoming a vampire, that beauty had been magnified tenfold. She had inherited her father's pale gray, round eyes, and her golden hair cascaded down her chest like a waterfall. Her skin was white to the point of translucence, her red lips delicately alluring, and she flashed me a sweet smile.

"Cassandra! My sister!" Serena stood up and ran toward me in her high heels, giving me a tight embrace.

Her body temperature was very low, yet the force of her hug was astonishingly strong. I could even feel her sharp nails lightly scratching across my spine through the fabric of my trench coat.

"I've missed you so much, sister. It's been seven months since we last saw each other." She stepped back half a pace, her gray eyes scanning me up and down, her gaze suddenly pausing at my neck—to conceal the bite mark Alexander had left, I had deliberately worn a turtleneck sweater today.

The corner of Serena's mouth curved into a barely perceptible arc. "It seems Alexander has been taking very good care of you."

"Yes, everything is fine." I tried to make my smile look natural. "During the flight… oh no, I mean, is everything at the sanatorium still going well for you?"

"Terrible." She sighed and linked her arm through mine, as if we were the closest sisters in the world. "Those substitute blood plasmas taste like mud. I'm truly fed up. But Alexander told me that once I move into your manor, he'll personally select the finest 'food' for me. He always spoils me like this, doesn't he?"

My heart sank sharply. I knew exactly what she meant by "spoils."

"Let's go," I said, unwilling to continue dwelling on this topic. I pulled my arm free from hers and picked up one of her designer luggage pieces. "Alexander is waiting for you at home."

We walked out of the sanatorium and loaded the luggage into the trunk. As soon as we got in the car, I turned on the heater. I felt a bit cold, not just because of the weather, but because of this beautiful and dangerous "sister" sitting in the passenger seat.

"Cassandra," Serena said softly, gazing out at the scenery rushing past the window. "Do you know? If it hadn't been for my loss of control back then, Alexander's wife should have been me."

My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

"But now, Mrs. Alexander is you." She turned her head and grinned at me, her two sharp canines faintly visible. "But it doesn't matter. We have a long time ahead of us. We can play slowly."

The rain grew heavier.

The Range Rover's windshield wipers swept frantically back and forth across the glass, making a monotonous, dull thumping sound. The heater in the cabin was running at full blast, yet I still felt my fingertips turning cold.

Serena, sitting in the passenger seat, was in high spirits. She rolled down the window slightly, letting the cold, damp wind mixed with rain spray across her pale, delicate face. She took a deep breath and let out a satisfied sigh.

"I love New York's rainy days," she said, turning her head. Those pale gray eyes she'd inherited from our father gleamed with an unusual light in the dim interior of the car. "It makes the air smell… much cleaner. Not so much of that sticky, sour sweat smell from humans."

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel again, my knuckles turning a ghostly white. I didn't respond to her comment, only stared fixedly at the rain-blurred highway ahead.

Patience, Cassandra, I told myself. She's a dangerous newborn vampire now, and besides, Alexander protects her.

Half an hour later, we drove through Alexander Manor's massive wrought-iron gates, carved with black thorn patterns.

This Gothic manor stood deep within a private forest on Long Island. Its pointed rooftops loomed faintly in the rain and mist, like a beast crouching in the darkness. For vampires, this place was an impregnable fortress; but for me, it was merely a slightly more luxurious tomb.

The car had barely come to a stop in front of the main building's portico when several blood servants in black uniforms rushed forward with large black umbrellas.

They were all low-ranking vampires, possessing the same pale skin as their masters, their eyes vacant and obedient.

I had just pushed open the car door and hadn't yet had a chance to say a word to the old butler Ilias when Serena had already stepped gracefully out of the vehicle in her stiletto heels.

"Oh, Ilias, God, this wretched weather is absolutely dreadful." Serena casually removed her expensive, rain-dampened trench coat and tossed it directly into the arms of a nearby blood servant.

Her movements were extremely natural, as if she were the true mistress of this manor.

"Welcome back, Miss Serena." Ilias bowed slightly, his wrinkled face betraying no expression.

"Take my luggage upstairs. And remember, I don't like staying in those damp guest rooms on the first floor." Serena tossed her golden hair, her gray eyes sweeping around the hall, her tone carrying an unquestionable command. "I want the suite on the second floor of the east wing. The one next to Alexander's study."

Standing behind her, I felt as if all the blood in my body had frozen instantly.

The second floor of the east wing was the master bedroom area. Aside from Alexander's and my room, as well as his private study, other rooms were never opened to outsiders. It was the place where Alexander's territorial consciousness was strongest.

Ilias hesitated for a moment. His cloudy eyes looked past Serena's shoulder toward me. He was seeking the opinion of me, "Mrs. Alexander."

"Serena," I stepped forward, trying to keep my voice steady, "the east wing is a private area. The south-facing guest room on the first floor gets good sunlight and would be more suitable for you..."

"Sunlight?" Serena suddenly turned her head, looking at me as if I were an idiot. She moved closer, lowering her voice, the corner of her mouth curling into a malicious, cold smile. "Sister, have you forgotten what I am now? You want me to stay in the room with the best sunlight? Are you trying to roast me into ashes?"

"That's not what I meant. You could draw the blackout curtains—"

"What's going on?"

A low, cold voice, magnetic as a cello, came from the stairway on the second floor, instantly cutting off my words.

The air in the entire hall seemed to be sucked dry in that moment. All the blood servants bowed their heads deeply, not daring to breathe.