CHAPTER 2 #2
“The system is there to keep peace between both parties,” I press, irritation boiling below the surface, trying to convey the necessity of these rules without sounding like a broken record. “Vampires get protection from Redmoore, while humans get protection from being drained.”
“And I’m saying the penalties aren’t proportionate,” Evan shoots back, his eyes now clearer from the vitaequil’s effects. “Vampires face execution for bloodsucking, while humans get a slap on the wrist for equally dangerous offenses.”
“I suggest we continue this political discussion when we’re sober,” Haden chimes in.
“I am sober,” Evan protests, cracking his knuckles before turning to me, “and about to teach that self-righteous human boyfriend of yours where he belongs in the food chain.”
He jumps out of his seat and I do the same, holding him back.
“Evan, sit down,” I say, trying to defuse the rising tension. “It’s not like that. Max is just upset. This death changes things.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Evan insists, stubborn as always. “Humans die all the time. Sometimes at the hands of other humans, sometimes because of vampires. One death doesn’t change the rules of our world.”
“It does when it’s in Penn City!” I cry out, exasperation in my voice.
A silence falls between us. I want to drop the subject, but the weight of Max’s ultimatum presses too heavily on my shoulders. I cannot lose him over this. Not after everything we’ve built together.
“Look, I’m not here to debate vampire rights. I’m telling you that we need to be more careful. Max won’t hesitate to report us the next time something like this happens,” I say, my tone softer now.
Evan’s expression darkens. “So Max gets to dictate how we live?”
“That is not what I’m saying.”
“Isn’t it?”
“We’ll be more careful,” says Haden.
Evan exhales, frustration evident. “Just remember that consensual bloodsucking only became a criminal offense when they realized some humans actually volunteered. The irony!”
“Those humans are clearly addicted,” I argue, trying to remain calm. “It’s for their own good.”
I eye the human clinging to Evan’s side, gesturing for him to do a check-up.
Her head lolls against his shoulder, her pupils dilated to black pools that swallow the blue of her irises.
The puncture wounds on her neck have stopped bleeding, but the euphoria of the bite lingers in her system like a potent drug.
Evan lances down at her reluctantly, seeming to notice her vacant expression for the first time. He snaps his fingers in front of her face, eliciting only a delayed, languid blink in response.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, gently shaking her. “You with us?”
“Mmm,” she hums, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “More… please…”
“See what I mean?” I hiss. “Addicted.”
Evan carefully repositions the woman so she is leaning against the plush cushions instead of him, then grabs a water bottle from the table. “Drink this,” he instructs, pressing it to her lips. She complies, some of the water dribbling down her chin as she gulps greedily.
“Not addiction,” Evan corrects me once more. “Pleasure. Humans chase all sorts of thrills and dangerous highs. Take extreme sports or gambling, for example. How is this any different?”
Noticing the subtle concern in his face, I stay composed. “It’s not about the high, Evan. It’s about what happens when a vampire loses control.”
Evan’s retort dies on his lips as someone knocks on the back room door with three sharp, impatient raps that silence the entire room. No one that knows the code would knock. Not knowing the code means this is either a nosy parker, or a keeper.
“Get everyone out,” I instruct, nodding toward the personnel door on the other side of the room.
It’s connected to the main part of the building through a small hallway behind the bar.
“Lou will know what to do. Just, for the love of all that’s unholy, please make sure no one leaves the premises in an incoherent state. ”
I hand Evan my vitaequils as Haden and the others start corralling their companions together along with anyone else that is in the room with us. The knocking comes again, harder this time.
My heart is racing, thinking of possible excuses for what could be going down in here. I reach for the zipper of my corset and, without hesitation, yank it down. I shimmy out of my skirt, letting it pool at my waist and leaving me in just my black lace bra.
Evan’s eyes widen at my impromptu strip. “What are you doing?”
“Making this look like a changing room,” I whisper back, frantically running my hands through my hair. “Go!”
As the last of them disappear, I unlock the door and poke my head through it.
“Seriously?” I huff, feigning outrage as I pull my dress back up to cover my chest. “Can’t a girl change in peace?
” My breath mists in the night, fear turning to a sharper, more personal dread when I spot the last person I expected to see.
There, arms crossed and jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth, stands Max.
“What are you changing for?” His expression is caught somewhere between confusion and suspicion, his hand still raised as if preparing for another knock. “Or should I say who?”
“Nothing. No one.”
“What’s going on in here?” His voice drops to that quiet, dangerous tone he usually reserves for courthouse cross-examinations. “I thought you were talking to your friends.”
“I was, and they just left,” I say, trying to explain. “We thought you were the police.”
“And, of course, you were doing things the police can’t catch you doing.”
I fasten my zipper again before slipping through the door, closing it firmly behind me to shield the mess inside from view. I need to make him understand without understanding too much.
“They’ll stop bloodsucking,” I lie.
“Really?” He frowns, skepticism written all over his face. “Just like that?”
“I guess this whole incident with Kyla is a wake-up call for them.” I push the statement out with more conviction than I feel, hoping he’ll believe it as much as I need to believe it.
His expression softens. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m sorry for, you know, taking it out on you.”
“It’s okay,” I reply, touching his arm gently.
I almost tell him everything—how scared I am of disappointing and losing him.
How much I want us to work, despite our differences.
How much I want him to accept me for who I am, but I know better than to shatter this version of myself I spent years curating carefully.
The version of me that deserves to be loved.
“I understand why you reacted the way you did,” I say instead. “I appreciate the apology, though.”
He looks down into his hands, fidgeting a little, a gesture I know he makes when he’s relieved. “I have a little surprise for you.” A smile breaks through the seriousness that clouds his face. “For our anniversary. I know you like to receive your gifts early.”
I indeed have a strong desire for instant gratification.
Max has learned to give me my presents ahead of time, so I won’t bug him about it weeks before the day of celebration. It is exactly why I anticipated him giving me my present, or dare I say, ring, tonight.
I made sure that he would.
“Oh?” I echo, feigning surprise.
“Let’s go to my apartment first.” He glances around as though remembering where we are. “Keepers and security checkpoints everywhere doesn’t quite make for the romantic setting.”
I nod, relieved that the tension between us has eased a bit. Max extends his hand to me, a cautious peace offering I eagerly accept. His fingers intertwine with mine, warm against my naturally cooler skin.
Together, we step out of the alley and into the main street, the neon lights of Penn City painting our faces in alternating hues of purple and blue.
The streets are eerily quiet. No pedestrians, no vehicles—just the distant wail of sirens and the occasional flutter of papers caught in the evening breeze.
Something isn’t right.
Max’s grip on my hand tightens. “Where is everyone?”
I’m about to answer when I sense them, that distinctive predatory presence that makes the fine hairs on my neck stand on end. Not the familiar presence of my friends, but something colder, hungrier.
Moving like phantoms, they seem to materialize from darkened doorways and rooftops with inhuman speed.
Six of them—no, eight—form a circle around us with the coordination of trained assailants.
Their pale skin gleams like marble under the streetlights, their eyes flickering with an animalistic gleam.
“Max,” I say, tugging at his arm. “Stay behind me.”
But Max doesn’t move, momentarily transfixed by the sight of the vampires surrounding us. I can feel his heartbeat accelerating through our linked hands, the rush of blood making him an even more tempting target. These aren’t Pennian vampires with their rigorously upheld facades of humanity.
These are hunters—ruthless, relentless, and ravenous.
But so am I.