A Deal With The Vampire CEO

I always thought that vampires existed only in spooky bedtime stories and movies. I never could have imagined that I would find one in my best friend's birthday party.

I was lost in my best friend's house, and all the hallways looked the same.

My thirteen year old mind was tearing apart, and worse still, I couldn't find my stepbrother who brought me to my best friend's house.

I was desperate to find a bathroom—my bladder was staging a full-on rebellion—and my stepbrother, Jake, who’d dragged me to this glittery chaos of a party, was nowhere to be found.

Typical Jake, always ditching me the second he spotted a cute girl or a tray of pizza rolls.

Every hallway was a carbon copy of the last: dark, shadowy, with fancy chandeliers that flickered like they were auditioning for a haunted house gig. .

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of wrong turns, I spotted a door that screamed bathroom—or at least, I hoped it did.

My hand was inches from the knob, freedom so close I could almost feel the relief, when something made me freeze.

A prickling sensation crawled up my spine, like my body knew something my brain hadn’t caught up to yet.

I glanced down the hallway, and there he was.

A figure stood in the shadows, half-hidden where the light barely reached.

My heart did a weird little somersault, thumping so loud I swore it echoed off the walls. Something about this moment felt wrong, like I’d stepped into the opening scene of a horror movie without reading the script.

“Hey!” I called out, my voice wobbling but trying to sound brave.

“You lost too?” I waved, forcing a smile, though my gut was screaming at me to bolt.

I took a few cautious steps closer, and the dim light revealed him—a boy, maybe sixteen, with a face so beautiful it didn’t seem human.

He looked like he’d been carved from moonlight, all sharp cheekbones and pale, flawless skin that practically glowed.

His hair was a mess of raven-black curls, tumbling over his forehead in a way that made me think of those brooding poets in the library books I pretended to read.

But here’s the thing: he wasn’t moving. Not a twitch, not a blink.

He stood there like a statue, his eyes glinting with something dangerous, something that made every survival instinct in my body scream, Run, Camilla! Get the heck out of here!

And yet… I didn’t. I couldn’t. There was something about him, some magnetic pull that hooked me like a fish on a line.

It was like he was a puzzle I needed to solve, even if it meant getting eaten alive. My sneakers squeaked as I edged closer, stopping a safe-ish distance away.

“Hey, you okay?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “You look kinda… intense.”

Before I could finish, he moved. And when I say moved, I mean he was suddenly right there, inches from me, faster than humanly possible.

One second he was across the hall, the next he was looming over me, his eyes—dark and endless—boring into mine with a curiosity that felt like it could unravel my soul.

I froze, my breath hitching as his cold fingers brushed my neck, lingering over the spot where my pulse was hammering like a drum solo.

His touch was icy, sending shivers racing down my spine, and not the good kind.

My brain was yelling at me to run, to scream, to do something, but my feet were glued to the floor.

I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened on my wrist—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to say, You’re not going anywhere.

My heart was slamming against my ribs so hard I thought it might burst, drowning out the distant thump of party music and kids shrieking over pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey.

Then he snarled. Like, full-on animal snarl, and I swear I saw his teeth—perfect, white, and… oh no.

Were they growing? Sharp, wicked canines gleamed in the dim light, and my brain finally put the pieces together.

Vampire!

Holy freaking heck, he was a vampire. But vampires weren’t real! They were just stories.

Like the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus.

My mind was spiraling, but my body was stuck, trapped by those endless eyes and that impossible, beautiful face.

He leaned in closer, so close I could feel the cool brush of his breath against my skin.

His height made me feel like a mouse staring up at a hawk. A few stray curls of his hair fell forward, framing his face, and for one bizarre second, I thought, Wow, he’s kinda pretty for a monster.

“Mine,” he whispered, his voice low and possessive, like he was claiming me for some ancient, creepy vampire collection. Before I could process that, he yanked me against him, his arms like steel bands.

And then—pain. Sharp, searing pain as his fangs sank into my neck. I screamed, or at least I tried to, but it came out more like a choked gasp.

It hurt like nothing I’d ever felt, a burning, tearing agony that made my knees buckle. But there was something else, too—something weirdly warm, almost intoxicating, swirling through the pain.

I couldn’t name it, but it was there, muddling my panic.

He drank. And drank. And drank. I could feel my strength slipping away, my body growing heavy, like I was sinking into a dark, endless pool.

“Please,” I whimpered, my voice small and shaky, “please, I don’t want to die!”

My words seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.

His grip loosened, just a fraction, and his eyes widened, like he was seeing me for the first time. But it was too late.

The world was spinning, my vision blurring at the edges. I was slipping under, too weak to fight it, too scared to care.

The last thing I heard, soft as a breath, was his voice.

“Mine,” he said.

Then the darkness swallowed me whole.