21. The Feeding #2
His teeth extended—sharp, predatory, designed to pierce skin and draw blood efficiently.
His eyes shifted, the warm brown darkening to something almost black, the edges glowing faintly with that telltale vampire luminescence.
The veins around his eyes became visible, dark lines spreading across his skin like cracks in porcelain.
This was what he really was.
Not the charming nightclub owner. Not the man in designer clothes with a smile that made women weak.
This.
A predator.
Reign bit down.
Auren gasped softly but didn't pull away. She knew what to expect. She'd done this before.
The blood hit his tongue immediately—warm, metallic, rich with that potent edge that came from menstrual blood. It was different from regular blood. Stronger. More intense. The high was immediate and overwhelming.
Reign's body responded like a drug addict getting their fix.
His senses exploded. He could hear everything—the music in the club, the conversations happening three rooms away, the sound of Auren's heartbeat slowing as he fed.
He could smell everything—the liquor on someone's breath in the main room, the sweat on the dance floor, the faint scent of Arissa's perfume still clinging to his jacket from earlier.
His strength surged. His muscles tightened. His mind sharpened.
This was why he was addicted.
Not just because of the hunger. Not just because he needed blood to survive.
But because feeding gave him clarity. Control. Power.
It regulated his emotions, calmed the chaos in his head, made him feel like he could handle everything the world threw at him.
Reign drank deeply, his hands gripping Auren's waist tighter, his body pressed against hers as the high flooded through him.
It felt like flying.
It felt like drowning.
It felt like the only thing that made sense in a world that was spinning out of control.
But underneath the high, underneath the rush, there was something else.
Desperation.
Because he knew this wasn't sustainable. He knew he was using feeding to cope with problems he couldn't solve. He knew that every time he fed, he was choosing this addiction over everything else—over Soreya, over his own humanity, over the possibility of being something better than what he was.
But he couldn't stop.
He didn't want to stop.
Reign pulled back finally, his breathing ragged, his mouth stained with blood.
Auren leaned against the counter, her hand pressed to her neck where he'd bitten her. The wound was already healing—one of the benefits of being a hybrid. She'd be fine in an hour.
"You good?" she asked, her voice steady despite everything.
Reign nodded, stepping back. His teeth retracted. His eyes shifted back to their normal brown. The veins around his eyes faded. His face returned to normal—human, controlled, safe.
He grabbed the towel from the counter and wiped his mouth, then handed it to Auren.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
"Don't thank me. We got a deal." Auren cleaned the blood from her neck, then pulled her dress back up and zipped it. "You feel better?"
"Yeah."
"Good. 'Cause you looked like you was about to lose it when you walked in here."
Reign exhaled, running a hand over his face. "I got a lot going on."
"I know. Everybody know." Auren picked up her tray and headed toward the door. "Just don't let it get you killed, aight? Cairo need you. The crew need you. And that girl you got—Soreya—she need you too, even if she don't know what you are yet."
Reign's jaw tightened.
Auren unlocked the door and paused, glancing back at him. "You gonna tell her?"
"I don't know."
"Well, figure it out. 'Cause secrets like that don't stay buried forever." She opened the door. "I'll see you out there."
She left, and Reign was alone.
He stood in the bathroom for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
He looked normal. Human. Like he hadn't just fed on someone's blood in a club bathroom at 3 AM.
But he could still taste it. Could still feel the high coursing through his veins, making everything sharper, clearer, more manageable.
His phone buzzed.
He pulled it out.
Cairo (3:02 AM): Acquisition confirmed. Samples secured. Good work. Bring them by Smoke & Gold tomorrow night.
Reign typed back quickly.
Reign (3:02 AM): Aight.
He pocketed the phone and turned toward the door.
One problem handled. Arissa was secured. The serum was in his possession. Cairo was satisfied.
But the other problem—Soreya—was still waiting.
His phone buzzed again.
Reign pulled it out, expecting another message from Cairo or Soleil.
Instead, it was Soreya.
Soreya (3:03 AM): I know you're at the club. I'm on my way now. Don't run from me. We need to talk. NOW.
Reign's blood went cold.
No.
Not now.
Not here.
He'd just fed. He was still processing. His emotions were still unstable, his control still fragile. She couldn't see him like this. She couldn't be here. Not at After Dark. Not in the middle of vampire family operations. Not when he was still riding the high of Auren's blood.
He typed back frantically.
Reign (3:04 AM): Soreya don't come here. I'm leaving now. I'll come to you. Just wait.
He hit send and stared at the screen, waiting for her response.
The three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Soreya (3:05 AM): No. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of you running. I'm pulling up in 10 minutes. Be outside or I'm coming in.
Reign's hands shook.
She was coming.
She was going to see the club. See the crew. See the world he'd been hiding from her for six years.
And if she walked into After Dark tonight—if she saw what really happened here, if she saw him with Auren, if she saw Sevyn and Soleil handling business, if she saw any of it—there would be no going back.
He couldn't stop her.
He couldn't run.
Everything was about to blow up.
Reign shoved his phone into his pocket and walked out of the bathroom, his mind racing.
He had ten minutes.
Ten minutes to figure out how to explain the unexplainable.
Ten minutes before Soreya Vale walked into his world and saw him for what he really was.
And he had no idea if she'd stay or run.
But one thing was certain.
By the time the sun came up, everything would be different.
One way or another.