9

Something inside me snapped no, ignited. My blood surged hot, electric, like a live current tearing through my veins. A swell of energy erupted in my limbs, muscles locking into place the instant my scream tore through the air. Without thinking, I shoved the blond man off me, his teeth missing my skin by a breath.

This couldn’t be real. It had to be a nightmare some twisted hallucination I couldn’t shake. My mind flailed for logic, but all I found was sheer, suffocating panic. Frozen, I stood shaking, unable to move as my eyes met the man's. The same one who’d just tried to sink his teeth into me.

He stumbled back, visibly stunned, as though no one had ever dared resist him before. Then his expression shifted his mouth curling into something cruel and amused, eyes gleaming with feral delight.

Around us, the other beast-like men stilled. They lifted their heads from their victims limp waitresses barely clinging to consciousness. Their faces were slack, their expressions disturbingly serene, as though they enjoyed being drained. Nausea curled in my gut, stronger than fear for a moment.

Then my gaze snapped back to the blond.

He ran a hand through his hair and laughed, tossing a glance over his shoulder. “Well, Ivo,” he called, “seems I’ve found myself a feisty one this time.”

The one named Ivo licked the blood from his lips, eyes roving over me slowly. “She’ll break, Prince Anselmo. Just like the sweet chocolate one I had before.”

Lelia.

He meant Lelia.

My knees buckled. My lungs felt punctured no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t draw in a full breath. The world around me blurred, distorted under the pounding in my ears. I caught snatches of cruel laughter, taunts echoing like underwater sound.

And then he was there Anselmo. Standing just inches from me, voice low and intimate.

“Look into my eyes, Domitilla,” he said. “Say the words. Tell me you’re willing.”

My hands curled into fists at my sides. Willing? Was that some kind of ritual? Did he need my permission to drink from me?

I glanced at the other girls, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed. They hadn’t consented.

“No,” I rasped, shaking my head, my voice a trembling whisper. “Get away from me.” I didn’t know how the words left my mouth they clawed their way out, fueled by something primal.

Laughter again, cruel and sharp. But not from Anselmo. No, his eyes darkened, mouth flattening. He was no longer amused.

That flicker of instinct the one that told prey when to run finally kicked in.

Run.

I turned, legs sluggish at first, then faster, fleeing into the corridor. Their mocking voices followed me, echoing down the hallway like the sound of predators playing with their food.

Two paths. One led downstairs where Pacifico and Ireneo might be. But could I trust them? Did they know what these men were? Were they being paid to turn a blind eye?

I bolted the other way, deeper into the unknown.

“Don’t bother, Domitilla,” Anselmo called after me. “Run if you want. It’ll end badly either way.” His voice curled around me like smoke. “We’ll even give you a head start.”

The corridor was mostly empty. A lone security guard stood far down the hall. I screamed for help, sprinting toward him but he didn’t so much as flinch. Just turned his face away.

I barely registered the waitress in front of me until we collided. Trays crashed. Glass shattered. We tumbled to the ground. Pain bloomed in my forearm a stinging slash. Blood welled instantly, warm and wet.

I gasped, eyes flicking from the deep cut to the three figures now gliding toward me. Inhumanly fast. Inhumanly hungry.

The waitress scrambled away, screaming. Doors burst open. More guests stepped out no, not guests. Monsters. Eyes glowing red. Fangs exposed.

“They’re all monsters,” I whispered, paralyzed as they closed in, faces alight with hunger.

An arm wrapped around my waist from behind. I was hauled upright, spun and then I saw him.

Gosto.

He yanked me tight against his chest, folding me into the rich black fabric of his jacket. His voice rumbled across the corridor, low and dangerous.

“Touch her,” he growled, “and I’ll tear every one of you apart.”

I’d never been so grateful to be manhandled. Relief overwhelmed me, warm and dizzying. I pressed my cheek against his chest, eyes shut tight as chaos exploded behind us footsteps, snarls, screams. I didn’t dare look.

“I need to get you somewhere safe,” Gosto murmured, cradling me like I weighed nothing. He moved fast, weaving us through the corridor until we reached a corner room.

“My office. Stay here. I’ll be back.” He guided me inside and shut the door before I could even respond.

I collapsed against the wall, heart racing like a hummingbird’s wings. Only after several shaky breaths did I process what had just happened.

His scent still lingered clean, masculine, something dark and addictive. His arms had felt like armor. I didn’t want to let go.

Then my eyes scanned the room... and I froze.

It was the room from my dream.

Exactly the same the desk, the lighting, even the faint scent of leather and wood polish. I stepped forward, lips parting. “God... it’s just like in my dream.”

I touched the edge of the desk, memory flashing in graphic detail what I’d imagined happening here with him.

Before I could unravel the implications, muffled sounds came through the door growls, crashes. The fantasy shattered, and the nightmare rushed back in.

Vampires.

Not myths. Not stories. Real. Here.

I’d assumed only Anselmo and his group were like that. But no... the corridor had swarmed with them. A whole floor of monsters wearing designer suits.

The thought hit me like ice: What if this isn’t rare? What if it happens every night?

The door burst open.

Gosto strode in with Ermes and another man tall, pale, with silver-white hair and eyes the color of fire.

I backed into the wall, hands trembling. “What the hell is going on?” I demanded, voice thin.

The white-haired one shot Gosto a glare. “You gonna deal with the obvious here?” He pointed at my bleeding arm.

I looked down, surprised I’d forgotten it. The way they avoided staring directly at it made my stomach twist.

Gosto opened a cabinet, tossed me a white cloth. “It’s clean.”

I wrapped the wound tightly. “Now talk,” I said, my voice unsteady. “Tell me what I saw wasn’t real.”

Gosto leaned against the desk, gaze unreadable. “Why don’t you tell us what you saw?”

I took a breath. “They had fangs. They were... feeding on the waitresses. And the girls... they looked drugged. Like they couldn’t fight it.” I swallowed hard. “Anselmo tried to bite me. I ran. I fell. I cut my arm.”

Gosto’s eyes dropped to my neck. He nodded once. “Good. No marks.” His voice held relief, but not for the reasons I hoped.

“So…” I said quietly, “What are they?”

Ermes gave a low chuckle. Then his eyes lit up blood-red.

“Vampires,” he said, voice like a blade. “Just like us.”