Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Cassia
Waking up, I feel like my body doesn’t want to leave the one place it’s been safe in a long time.
The room is quiet. Not the kind of quiet that feels like you’re being watched. Not the kind that makes your skin crawl or your stomach knot.
Just quiet.
I blink up at the ceiling, waiting.
Waiting for my heart to start galloping. Waiting for the familiar aftertaste of panic to cling to my throat. Waiting for the images that always come, the ones that shove themselves into my morning like they own me.
They don’t.
Not today.
Today it’s just quietness.
My chest rises and falls steadily. My limbs feel heavy, but not in that exhausted, worn-down way. More like I actually slept.
I swallow and stare at the pale patch of ceiling above my bed.
When’s the last time that happened?
Weeks. Maybe months. Long enough that I can’t even pin it down without feeling the shame of how far I’ve slipped.
It’s almost peaceful, which makes me suspicious. Peace doesn’t usually stick around for me. It’s always been something I’m allowed to taste for a second before it gets ripped away.
I shift under the blanket, and that’s when heat flickers low in my stomach, warm and lingering like an ember that never died out.
My face gets hot.
Oh.
My dreams.
They come back to me all at once, not blurry like dreams usually are, but vivid. Like my mind filmed them, saved them, and decided to replay them in high definition to punish me.
Orpheus.
His voice, low and controlled, saying my name as if it belongs to him. His hands, firm and possessive, not asking, not hesitating. The way he looked at me was like he already decided what I was to him, and the rest of the world didn’t get a vote.
It wasn’t sweet.
It wasn’t romantic.
It was filthy and intense and so vivid my body reacted like it was real.
I squeeze my eyes shut and groan into my pillow.
“Seriously?” I mutter and slam my fists into the mattress on either side of me. “What is wrong with me?”
I drag the blanket up to my chin like it’s going to hide me from my own thoughts. It’s too late. My brain’s already done the damage.
In the dream, I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t cautious. I wasn’t trying to keep things professional or remind myself that I’m just a worker in his club.
In the dream, I wanted him.
Bad.
That’s the problem.
Because even though I’m awake, I can still feel it. That ache deep in my gut, pulling for him even though he’s not really here. My body’s annoyed that I didn’t finish whatever my brain started.
I open my eyes again and stare at the ceiling once more.
I barely know him.
He’s dangerous. He’s entitled. He’s powerful in a way I can’t even explain without sounding insane. He’s King of all the bad, which I still haven’t processed because I’m trying not to process anything that sounds like it belongs in a myth.
I’m out here dreaming about him like a desperate teenager with a crush.
I shove my face into my pillow again.
“This is not happening,” I tell myself.
But my body doesn’t care what I tell myself. My body’s already decided Orpheus is a temptation.
I force myself out of bed and into the shower before I can spiral. The hot water helps me get my bearings. It grounds me. Gives me something to focus on besides a vampire king and the way he looked at me last night, like I was something he couldn’t quite figure out.
Still, even as steam fills the bathroom and water runs down my skin, my mind keeps slipping, going back to the Orpheus.
His office.
The art on the walls.
The way he said my name back, so quiet and deliberate, like he was tasting it.
The way he stared at me when I talked back to him, not angry, not offended, but interested. Or intrigued. I don’t know.
I rinse the conditioner out of my hair and scrub my face like I can scrub the thoughts away as well.
It doesn’t work.
It’s as if he’s ingrained himself in my mind.
By the time I’m dressed, it’s late afternoon. The light outside is already starting to shift. Soon the sun will be down.
I’ve got errands to run. Normal things. Human things. Grocery store. Laundry. Picking up the stupid, cheap coffee I like because it makes me feel like I’ve got my life together when I don’t.
I keep my day simple on purpose. The less time I spend alone with my thoughts, the better.
Even so, I can’t stop myself from checking the street too often. Watching reflections in windows. Listening for footsteps that match mine.
Because the other part of last night is still stuck in my head too.
The vampire.
The gray-haired one.
The way his hand yanked me back like I was nothing.
The way his mouth pressed close to my ear when he growled that I smelled different.
I didn’t understand what he meant then, and I still don’t now. But it’s enough to make my skin prickle every time I pass an alley.
I’m not stupid. I know what kind of place Dyrk is.
It’s not just a club. It’s a feeding ground. A playground. A den.
I got lucky last night.
I also got noticed.
If that vampire was bold enough to corner me in a hallway inside Orpheus’s club, what’s stopping him from finding me outside of it?
The thought follows me the entire time I’m out. It makes my shoulders tense. Makes my grip tighten on my bag. Makes me walk faster than I need to.
By the time dusk settles, I’m already exhausted and want nothing more than to go to my little house and sleep the rest of the day away.
Only I can’t. I need to get to work. Taking my groceries home and getting ready, I try my hardest to block out the thoughts swarming in my head.
Once ready, I head toward the club, and the red neon glow makes my stomach loosen a little. Not because it’s comforting, exactly, but because I know the rules inside. I know where the light is. I know where the people are. I know there’s security.
Outside, anything can happen.
Inside, at least there are witnesses.
Still, my paranoia doesn’t fade until I’m close enough to see the entrance clearly.
No sign of the gray-haired vampire.
No lingering shadow near the door.
Just the bouncer and the guards doing their jobs like always.
Then I see him.
Priam, I think his name is. The same guard Orpheus humiliated last night. I hope he remembers me.
He’s standing at the door tonight, posture rigid, expression hard, eyes scanning the street like he’s looking for trouble before it finds him. In the brighter light, I notice details I missed before.
A scar along his jaw. A faint bruise on his knuckles. Eyes that don’t miss anything.
He doesn’t look like someone who deserves to be spoken to the way Orpheus spoke to him.
I swallow, step up, and hand over my ID.
Priam’s eyes flick to it, then to me.
Something in his expression shifts. Subtle, but real. His gaze softens like he recognizes me and remembers what happened.
I smile before I can overthink it. Small. Careful. Genuine.
His jaw tightens like he’s fighting a reaction, then he dips his head once in acknowledgment.
We don’t speak.
We don’t need to.
I step inside, and the club hits me just like the night before—music, heat, bodies, flashing lights.
I keep my head down and move quickly. I’m determined to be professional tonight. Determined to be normal. Determined to act like last night didn’t happen.
Like Orpheus didn’t happen.
I head straight toward the back so I can grab my supplies and get to my section. I figured Meg would want me on the floor again. If I stay busy, I won’t have time to think. I won’t have time to remember my dreams.
I’m halfway there when Meg steps into my path.
It’s like she appears out of thin air, arms crossed, eyes sharp, her expression already annoyed, like she’s been waiting for me to screw up.
“Not so fast,” she says.
I stop so abruptly I almost bump into her.
“What?” I ask, instantly wary.
“You’re not working the floor tonight.”
The words hit harder than they should.
My stomach drops like the ground just vanished under my feet.
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. “Did I mess something up last night? I figured that’s where you’d need me tonight.”
Meg’s eyes narrow. “If you messed up, you’d already be gone. Relax. You’re not working, just not working the floor tonight.”
I exhale a shaky breath, even though my mind still spirals.
If I’m not working the floor, what am I doing?
Am I fired?
Am I being punished?
Did Orpheus decide I’m a problem?
Meg rolls her eyes. “You’re not fired.”
“Okay,” I breathe. “If I’m not working the floor, I’m behind the bar with you, right?”
Before Meg can answer, Miriam barrels into us like she’s got springs in her shoes.
“Bestie!” she squeals, grabbing my arm. “Oh my god, you don’t know yet.”
I blink at her. “Know what?”
Her grin widens. “You got promoted.”
I stare at her. “Promoted to what?”
Meg sighs. “Upstairs.”
My body goes cold.
Miriam bounces. “With him.”
The meaning lands like a punch.
Orpheus.
My stomach flips.
“You’ve gotta be kidding,” I say.
“I’m not,” Meg replies. “Direct order. You’re assigned to him tonight.”
I swallow. “Assigned how?”
Meg’s lips curl. “You’re his servant now.”
The word makes my skin prickle.
Servant.
Not server. Not waitress. Not staff.
Servant.
“I didn’t apply for that,” I say.
Meg shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. He asked for you. You’re his.”
The way she says it isn’t friendly. It’s not even neutral.
I glance at Miriam, hoping she’ll laugh it off or tell me there’s been a mistake.
Instead, she looks excited.
“He requested you specifically,” she whispers. “He never requests anyone.”
“That’s not comforting,” I mutter.
“It’s not bad either,” she insists. “It’s a big deal.”
Sure.
So was being cornered by a vampire in a hallway.
I force myself to breathe.
I need this job.
I can’t afford to complain. If Orpheus wants me upstairs, arguing won’t change his mind.
Still, irritation blooms in my chest, because I was determined to keep my distance.
I was determined to keep this professional, and not let him get in my head.
Now, I’m going to be stuck with him all night.