Blood, blood all around me, but not a drop to drink. At least, not a drop of the right kind of blood.

​

On the dance floor below, a mass of bodies—mortal bodies, filled with mortal blood—swayed and ground against each other to the heavy, pulsing beat of the music. I had been down on the main floor for all of two minutes, searching for my quote-unquote friends, before I had to get out of the throng. Glad to be free of it, I lurked alone on the balcony bordering the hallway to the bathrooms.

​

Some of the tension in my body eased as I gripped the balcony railing. Some. I couldn’t shake the feeling that coming here had been a mistake. I was dying, after all. And not in the sense that we’re all dying. I was slowly wasting away without the one thing I truly needed to survive: immortal blood. Undead vampire blood. Shifter blood. Witch blood. Any would do, yet all I had was a waning supply of a tincture made from the blood of an undead vamp, slowing my inevitable decline to a glacial pace. Maybe I should have just ended it instead of dragging out my excruciatingly pathetic death, but I was afraid.

​

Of what came after.

​

Of what didn’t.

​

I wasn’t willing to leave this world when there was still something here worth living for. One single thing.

​

Mood darkening, I scanned the club-goers below, searching for Lily and Mark. They were late. But then, they were always late for everything. Librarian meetings, lunch dates, lectures…. Honestly, I only had myself to blame for actually being on time. Or for showing up at all.

​

Ugh. I didn’t like people enough to be here, wasting whatever time I had left surrounded by strangers. I could have been home with my book and a glass of wine, while Sombra purred on my lap. The huge black stray tomcat had quickly snuggled his way into my heart. Outside of my hushed interactions with Lily and Mark in the library, Sombra was all the companionship I needed.

​

“I should just go,” I muttered under my breath. I pushed off the railing and headed for the stairs, descending quickly.

​

I was across the dance floor and almost to the exit when someone grabbed my arm. My heart lurched into my throat, and my muscles tensed automatically, my rusty fight response kicking in.

​

“Sophie!” Lily squealed, throwing her arms around my neck and pulling me in for a quick hug. “You were not about to bail, were you?” She released me and stepped backward, planting one hand on her plump hip and waggling a finger at me with the other. “You promised me two drinks.” She made a fist and planted that hand on her other hip. “Two!”

​

My shoulders slumped. She was right. I had promised. Again, I should have known better. A promise was a promise, and I wouldn’t break it just because I was uncomfortable. Besides, maybe if Lily and Mark saw just how lame I was in social settings, they would recognize me for the lost cause I was and leave me be.

​

I glanced down at the hand still gripping my arm, expecting to see Mark’s dark, slim fingers, but the skin wasn’t nearly dark enough and the hand itself was far too robust to belong to him. I craned my neck, following the attached arm to its owner, and was surprised to find Bastian Garcia, the new library intern, standing at my shoulder. Mark was there, too, his familiar tall, lanky form behind the intern.

​

Bastian didn’t just work with us down in Special Collections in the basement of UW’s Allen Library, but since his focus within his degree program was on locating and preserving rare books, he had been spending a fair amount of time with us.

​

Bastian was a conundrum. His drab, ill-fitting V-neck sweaters, neat side part, and Clark Kent glasses did little to hide the fact that he was hot as hell—built like an MMA fighter, with copper skin and the bold features of a Roman god. It was almost like he googled “how to dress like a dweeb” and was putting in minimal effort to play the part. Lily had nicknamed him Telenovela because of his Latin good looks, and she frequently speculated that his glasses were fake, their only purpose to tone down his good looks.

​

Honestly, I would not have been surprised if our little three-person department ended up in a mandatory workplace harassment training session one of these days because of her.

​

That Bastian was here suggested Lily and Mark were adopting him, as well. Or maybe they were auditioning him as my replacement. It had taken them over two years to get me to go out on the town with them, but he had come along after barely two months.

​

Bastian released my arm and pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. “Hey, Sophie,” he said, flashing me a lopsided smile that brought out hints of dimples.

​

Something about the way he looked at me ignited a spark low in my belly, and heat crept up my chest and neck. Feeling flustered, I raised a hand to push my own glasses higher up, only to realize as I touched the bare bridge of my nose that I had swapped them for contacts. My cheeks burned with embarrassment.

I wasn’t like Lily. I didn’t have curves for days, or lustrous flaxen hair, or captivating sapphire eyes. Everything about my appearance was drab, from my mouse-brown hair to my washed-out skin and dull gray eyes. I remembered thinking I was pretty when I was a teen. Back then, my eyes had held the changing colors of the sea, my hair had shimmered auburn in the sunlight, and my pale skin had seemed alight with an inner glow. It was when I had still been in possession of a seemingly endless supply of Javier’s blood tincture—more than enough to take a daily dose, rather than stretching it to once a week as I was forced to do now that my supply had dwindled. Each time I extended time between doses, my inner light seemed to fade further, my impending death casting a larger shadow over my life.

​

“Hope you don’t mind me crashing the party,” Bastian said. And the way he gazed at me, with more than a spark of interest, made me wonder if I hadn’t faded quite so far into bland obscurity as I thought.

​

“Not at all,” I said, returning his smile and fanning myself. “Whew! It’s hot in here.” I looked at Mark, nodding a hello, then focused on Lily. “I was just heading out for some fresh air.”

​

Lily narrowed her eyes, clearly weighing my sincerity, but then her hands slipped off her hips and she shrugged. Her lips spread into her trademark contagious grin. “All you’ll find out there is rain.” She linked her arm with mine and pulled me toward the bar. “Why don’t you boys go find us a table,” she told the guys, raising her voice to be heard over the din. “We’ll get the first round.”

​

I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes locking with Bastian’s unexpectedly fierce stare. His features softened almost immediately, but I hadn’t imagined the intensity that had been there only a moment ago.

​

A tug on my arm drew my attention back to Lily and the crowded bar. She shouldered her way through the thirsty patrons, dragging me behind her.

​

“What’ll it be?” a bearded bartender asked, scanning the people on either side of us before locking onto Lily. I couldn’t help but be impressed with how quickly she had snagged his attention. But then, it was hard not to notice bright, sunny Lily in any crowd.

​

Lily quickly ordered for our group—four Long Islands—and we each carried two as we carefully navigated the crowd. I wondered how rude it would be if I pawned my cocktail off on Mark or Bastian and went back to the bar to ask about their wine options. Life was too short to waste it on drinks I didn’t like. Especially my life.

​

“Do you see them?” Lily asked, standing on tiptoes and extending her neck in an attempt to look over the other club-goers. Flat-footed, I still had inches on her.

​

I scanned the crowded lounge area at the front of the club. Mark was easy enough to spot, standing head and shoulders above pretty much everyone else around, with his long, black braids wound into a thick knot at the base of his skull. Bastian, who was no shrimp, barely reached Mark’s chin beside him. They had snagged a section of the built-in counter that stretched along the length of the wall from the end of the bar to the windows.

​

“I see them,” I told Lily, nudging her arm with my elbow. When she looked at me, I pointed toward the guys with my chin. “Over there.”

​

“Thanks, tall friend,” Lily said, flashing me a dazzling smile before pushing her way through the crowd toward our waiting companions, navigating on trust alone. I followed two steps behind her.

​

Someone bumped my arm, and cool liquid splashed the front of my loose-fitting white blouse while ice cubes scattered on the sticky cement floor at my feet. I had worn white because it made my pasty complexion look a little less wan. Big mistake.

​

“Crap,” I muttered, glaring down at the mostly empty glass and the ugly brownish stain covering the front of my shirt. It looked like I had drunk too much and thrown up all over myself. Delightful. I huffed out a breath, gritted my teeth, and took a step to follow Lily.

​

A steady hand rested on my forearm. “I’m so sorry,” a man said, drawing my attention up to his face. “Let me replace your drink.”

​

The breath lodged in my throat. Holy shit, he was gorgeous. Drop-dead, panty-melting, steal-your-breath gorgeous.

​

The dark-haired stranger had chiseled features, with a strong nose, sensually curved lips, and black eyelashes that made his gray eyes stand out. He had an air of utter self-confidence that seemed pulled from another era, and there was something primal about him, a wicked magnetism that shushed my self-doubts and drew me in.

​

My irritation over the spilled drink evaporated in an instant, and acting with uncharacteristic boldness, I shifted closer to him. The corners of my mouth turned upward. “All right,” I said coyly. Okay, maybe I was aiming for coy, but it came out as more of a shout, as required by the blaring music.

​

The handsome stranger leaned in, lowering his head to remedy our notable height difference, and a lock of his sleek black hair fell forward across one eye. He tilted his head, bringing his face even closer to mine. “Let’s get you cleaned up first,” he said, his eyes remaining locked with mine.

​

Tingles cascaded over my skin, and I nodded, unable to look away, like his stare had ensnared me.

​

The captivating stranger took the glasses from my hands and did something with them—I didn’t know what because I couldn’t look away from him—then took hold of my hand and pulled me through the club back toward the stairs to the second floor.

​

I felt like I was dreaming as we climbed the steps.

​

As we entered the restroom.

​

As the stranger told the woman reapplying her lipstick to get out.

​

As he checked the stalls.

​

As he locked the bathroom door.

​

As he stalked toward me.

​

I stood beside the paper towel dispenser, my back to the wall. My brain felt fuzzy, and I shook my head. Something about this wasn’t right. I didn’t do this kind of thing. I didn’t abandon my friends or wander off with strange men, and I absolutely did not let strangers lock me in an enclosed space with them. I could practically hear Javier’s voice shouting in my head: RUN!

​

I sidestepped around the stranger, my hands held out in front of me to fend him off. And I could fend him off. Javier had ensured I knew how to take care of myself should the day ever come that he wasn’t around to look after me himself. It was a day that had come nearly two decades ago, leaving me on my own.

​

“Shhh,” the stranger said, his gray eyes glowing silver. Holy shit. He was an immortal. Not just that, but an undead vampire—the first I had seen since Javier disappeared. “I will not harm you.” When he spoke, he was careful to conceal his elongated canines, but I knew they were there.

​

My concerns dissipated, and I relaxed, lowering my arms. Of course, he wouldn’t hurt me. The undead cherished living vampires. Why was I getting so worked up?

​

The immortal’s gaze raked over my face, then dropped lower, to my neck, where his eyes lingered. “You are exquisite,” he murmured, dragging his stare up to my eyes. He brought his hand up to his mouth and slipped his thumb between his lush lips and sharp teeth. When he pulled his thumb out again, crimson blood beaded and welled on the pad.

​

I licked my lips, my salivary glands tingling as I fixated on that ruby droplet. Immortal blood. It called to me, clouding my mind further, and narrowing my focus to a tunnel. All of existence centered on that droplet of blood. Of life from the undead.

​

The vampire moved closer, blocking me in between the paper towel dispenser and wall, but I no longer had any desire to run. I had no clue why I had ever felt the need to flee. I couldn’t look away from the stranger’s blood.

​

 “Open for me,” he said, his other hand settling on the curve of my waist.

​

I whimpered, my lips parting. Never in my life had I wanted to do anything more than I wanted—no, needed—to obey this man. This immortal. I had no idea who he was or how he had found me. I didn’t care.

​

His hand slid behind my back, and the front of our bodies pressed together as he raised his bleeding thumb to my mouth. He slid the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip, coating it in his blood.

​

My tongue darted out involuntarily, and the instant the tip made contact with his blood, I let out a low, throaty groan. My eyes drifted shut and the flavor of him exploded across my tongue, making me see stars against the backs of my eyelids. I had never tasted anything so rich, so decadent, so delicious. So oddly familiar. My hands flew up, gripping the stranger’s wrist, and with no further coaxing, I sucked his thumb into my mouth.

​

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Good girl.”

​

Every nerve ending in my body lit up. Every synapse in my brain fired. I felt like I had been sleepwalking through life for years, but I was finally—finally—awake.

​

Too soon, the flow of blood from the vampire’s thumb waned. I sucked harder, wanting more.

​

“That’s enough for now,” he said, pulling his hand away from my mouth.

​

Eyes squeezed shut, I still clutched his wrist in a tight grip, my chest rising and falling with each heaving breath. “More, please,” I begged, licking my lips. I couldn’t open my eyes. Couldn’t look at him. I was too embarrassed by the all-encompassing need I felt, not just for his blood, but for him.

​

The stranger leaned in until our breaths mingled. “Not yet,” he said, his whispered words a caress. A promise.

​

His hand slid over my hip, his fingers dipping into the front pocket of my jeans. His lips brushed against mine, and the gentle kiss sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. It wound tighter and tighter within me, blossoming into a needy ache. I squeezed my thighs together, seeking to relieve the mounting tension, and groaned, practically panting.

​

“The first taste can elicit an intense response,” the stranger said, then purred against my mouth. “Go ahead. Touch yourself.”

​

I shoved my hand into the front of my jeans so fast and hard that the friction burned the skin on the back of my hand, but oh my god, I didn’t care because release came the instant my fingertip made contact with my aching clit. I gasped, pressing my fingers into the wetness drenching my sex. My toes curled, and I closed my eyes as I rode an unexpectedly violent wave of ecstasy.

​

The climax seemed to stretch on for an eternity. As it faded, I released a shaky breath and enjoyed the waning pulses of pleasure. When I opened my eyes again, I was alone.

​

I dazedly peered around the restroom, looking for . . .

​

Had someone else been here?

​

How had I ended up in the restroom, and why was my hand stuffed down the front of my pants?

​

Brow furrowing, I shook my head and pulled my hand free. I pushed away from the wall and moved to the sink to wash my hands. I couldn’t recall coming into the restroom. I glanced at the stalls. I must have just come out of one, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember.

​

While I lathered the soap, I looked at myself in the mirror over the sink, my focus immediately drawn to the brown liquor staining the front of my white blouse. The spilled drink. I had come in here to clean up. Right. Duh.

​

I grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and turned on the faucet to wet them. Staring at my reflection, I dabbed the stain on my shirt. “This is hopeless,” I muttered, raising my eyes to meet my reflection’s gaze.

​

I froze, pleasantly surprised by what I saw. My eyes appeared brighter than usual, closer to blue than gray, and my lips and cheeks were unexpectedly rosy. I felt like I was staring ten years into the past, to a time when I had enough of Javier’s blood tincture to take it every other day. I smiled at my reflection, thinking maybe Lily was right and getting out and around people was good for me.

​

I looked down at my shirt and sighed, giving up on removing the stain. It was a lost cause. I glanced back up at my face. But maybe I wasn’t.