RYLIE

“Awwwn, look, she’s bleeding.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“I know.” The sound of shuffling feet. “She sure is fast, for a human.”

“Mm hmm.”

The voices weave in and out of my head like a radio with bad signal. I start to lift my head when a blinding pain shoots through it, forcing me back down.

The voices continue.

“I wonder what her blood would taste like, though.”

“Stay back, Marcus.”

“Ugh. Fine.” A sigh, followed by a step. “Well, what do we do with her? She’s seen us.”

“We can’t kill her.”

“Why, because he said so?”

Another pause. “Yes. Because of that.”

“But he’s not here. He doesn’t have to know.”

“He WILL know.”

My vision is blurry but it’s enough to show me two pairs of black shoes, glistening in the faint alley light. They’re standing about two feet away, turned away from me, and away from the puddle of water on the concrete…

Concrete. Alley. My heart rate starts to spike when my memories return. I remember the glowing eyes, the fangs, the footsteps that had come after me.

These must be the men I’d seen and heard earlier. And now, they’re discussing getting rid of me.

“Oh, look at that, she’s awake.”

My throat tightens as one of them turns and comes straight at me. I groan in pain, pushing backwards as the man crouches in front of me. He smells like roses and danger, a confusing scent that wraps itself around me like a snake. And then I see his face.

He’s not the one who had (oh my God) murdered someone back there, but they do look strikingly alike. Silver hair falls over as he tilts his head, bending just enough to meet my gaze. Cold, blue eyes, like the one I had seen hanging above me just before I fainted. Except they aren’t glowing now.

His lips spread in a wide smile when he waves at me “Hello.”

I scramble backwards, my palms skidding against wet concrete. My fingers brush against something hard, and it takes me a second to realize it’s my taser.

“She’s a beautiful one, Ian,” he says, turning slightly. “Don’t you think?”

The figure behind him is wearing a coat and standing back in the shadows. That’s definitely the one who had killed that guy. Oh my God…

“Let’s just get this over with,” he replies gruffly. “We’ll let him decide what to do with her.”

“NO!” I jerk backwards, forcing my arms beneath myself as I try to get to my feet. I’m not dying, not tonight. “Get away from me!”

“What are you doing?” asks the man in front of me. His hand shoots out, closing around my ankle.

“Fucking let go!” I snap, jabbing the taser down into his wrist.

The satisfying sound of crackling electricity fills the air…followed by a giggle.

My eyes widen as I watch him throw his head back and actually giggle, like a child.

“Stop that, it tickles,” he says, still laughing and blinking down at my taser like it’s a funny, little toy.

What the hell?

“Quit playing around!” the other man snaps. “She’s called the police already, and we’ve definitely hung around here too long.”

“Ugh.” The chuckling guy groans, rolling his eyes. “Fine. She’s seen too much, though.”

The man in the dark replies, “That’s why she’s coming with us.”

My breath catches in my throat. No, no, this isn’t happening. I’m not being kidnapped by some strangers in an alley. I’ve heard stories, none of them pleasant, about what happens with kidnapped people. That’s all they’d ever been, just bad stories. Tonight, all I wanted to do was take a few pictures, and now I’m living one of those stories.

I yank backwards as hard as I can, wrenching my foot free of his grip, stumbling to my feet. “Don’t you fucking touch me.”

I swing the taser again, but he grabs my wrist in a flash, pulling me close at the same time.

“You’re a feisty one, you know that?” he says, that annoying smile appearing on his face again.

“Let me go,” I whisper. “Please, I won’t tell anyone-”

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t,” he whispers back, leaning close. “Night, night, sweetie.”

The last thing I see are his eyes, glowing blue like ice and swallowing me whole.

---

Someone kisses my forehead, tells me goodnight. There’s a flash of fangs, a memory I’ve seen before. Someone is yelling, a door breaks open, someone whispers for me to hide…

And I jerk awake. It takes a few seconds to calm my breathing, to realize I had been dreaming, that it’s just one of the same ones that had always haunted me. Once I’m sure of that, I try to get a sense of where I am.

I’m lying on a bed, a really big bed, covered with soft white sheets and a huge blanket. My fingers sink into the mattress as I start to sit up, and I can tell the thing is expensive as hell.

Where the hell am I? I remember the alley, the two guys and…Nothing else. Or was that all a dream as well?

I sit up quickly, scanning the room. The walls are all white, with dotted patterns here and there. On my left, a long window stretches from the floor to the ceiling, and beyond it are a spectrum of lights; it takes me a moment to realize that those are sky-rise buildings, dotted with lights and stretching into the night.

I turn slowly, taking in the rest of the room slowly. A cushion, the faint hum of air conditioning above, little lights flashing in the ceiling but barely illuminating the room.

That’s when I see the silhouette of a figure sitting on my right.

I yelp as I jerk in surprise, nearly stumbling out of bed. I recover, quick enough to mutter, “What the fuck?” and click on the bedside lamp.

The light spills across the space, falling on the face of the man who had knocked me out. He’s seated far back in the shadows, so I can only make that sharp jawline and the slight curve of his lips that tell me he’s smiling again.

Just how long has he sat there? And how had he knocked me out? I can’t remember anything past his soft, crooning voice as I fell asleep in that alley…

Then I remember something else, something entirely terrifying and curious. He had grinned at me, and his teeth were-

“What were you dreaming about?” he asks, easily cutting across my thoughts. He sounds softer, and for some reason, it relaxes me. “You were talking in your sleep.”

“Where the hell am I?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s still wearing that stupid smile, his eyes hooked on me.

I throw off the blanket and swing my legs to the side, nearly tripping as I get to my feet. My knees tremble a bit, but I don’t mind, not when I’ve seen the door.

He doesn’t stop me when I make a run for it. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, watching me as I grab the doorknob and pull. The door doesn’t budge, even as I pull harder, attempting to rip off the handle.

“Fuck!” I should have known they wouldn’t leave it open, but I had to try.

“Let me out,” I tell him.

He narrows his eyes at me, and for a second, that smile on his face falters. Then he waves a hand towards the bed and says, “Sit. You’ll feel better.”

“I don’t want to sit. I want to get out of here.”

He moves so fast, I’m almost sure I imagined it. One second, he’s seated in the chesterfield chair next to the bed; the next, he’s barely inches away from my face.

He leans forward slightly, arching his brows as those icy blue eyes meet mine once more. I try not to blink as I stare back up at him, but my heart is thudding painfully in my chest. And I know I can’t keep the false act for long, not when he has me backed up into the wall, as he inches closer until his breath is hot on mine; so, fucking hot.

“You’re a special, pretty little bird, aren’t you?” he whispers, his voice sending shivers down my spine, all the way down to my toes.

He lifts a hand, touching my neck softly. I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to cross my thighs. What the hell is this guy’s deal? He terrifies and interests me at the same time, something that I never thought could even be possible.

And it’s happening now, of all times?

His smile spreads suddenly, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking, like he’s aware of the effect he’s having. Then he pulls back, just as suddenly as he had appeared and runs a hand through his hair.

“Well, sweetheart,” he says, “you can’t get out of here. Least not yet.”

I try to keep the quiver out of my voice as I ask, “Why not? Who are you guys? What do you want with me?”

He smiles again, that naughty pull of his lips that makes him seem slightly more human, and he places a hand on his chest. Dramatically, he takes a bow, as if he was on stage.

“My name is Marcus Velmont. And I am going to be your guest for the evening.”