I fought the ocean's current the way I fought everything in life, with something to prove. My legs strained, arms pulling me through the water. I broke free of the surface, gasping for breath. No one had given me a single thing—ever. The ocean certainly wouldn't. Maybe that's why I enjoyed risking my life this way. It was a familiar sort of challenge. Something to gain, but everything to lose.

And hadn't that been my whole story?

The shore was a quarter of a mile off. I took another moment to recover, then swam towards the beach. The small cove was deserted. The waves were too tranquil for surfers and the water too cold for vacationers. People preferred Torring Gulf, south of here.

Out here, anything could happen. There was no one to save me. But, when had there ever been? I pushed the heaviness out of my chest. I'd grown up, grown out of self-pity. Still, there were times when it waved at me from across the road.

My feet found the sandy bottom and I waded back up the beach, searching out my things. My chest already felt lighter, freer, happier. I plopped down on my towel and took a few minutes to stretch the soreness from my muscles.

I'd earned this. This quiet moment to enjoy the breeze kissing my cheeks, drying the water droplets from my skin. It still didn't feel real. Not quite yet.

Today marked the most important day of my adult life. A bachelors degree in mathematics. I'd done it, after so many people said I couldn't. I'd proven every single one of them wrong.

I propped my hands behind me, leaning back, smiling up at the overcast sky. A whole summer. I could do this every day for hours without feeling a shred of gilt.

My phone pinged.

I pulled it from my bag, unlocked it, then smiled anew. A text from Ania. You'll never believe who got us on the guest list for Kase Yoshiki's party tonight. It was accompanied by a let's party GIF. I snorted, set my phone aside, and resumed my basking. It pinged again. Okay, I'll tell you! Me!!! Now, get your ass home so we can get ready.

I groaned, gathering my things, stashing my goggles and cap before heading to the stairs up the sea cliff. As much as I loved that girl, Ania was ruining my carefully laid evening plans. I had every intention of planting myself on the couch with a big glass of wine and the smutty gargoyle book I'd started.

I climbed into Ania's car, blasting the air conditioning. Braxton had an excellent public transport system between the subway and buses. I really only needed her car when I left the city, and she never minded me borrowing it.

I took the freeway, heading south, cranking the dial on the radio. The city loomed before me, one suburb blurring into the next. A sea of high-rise buildings dominated the horizon. Braxton was one of the largest cities in the country, a mass of corporate headquarters. It was also home to Braxton University. One of the best STEM universities in the world. BU grads went on to successful careers. It felt like I'd just joined an exclusive club, despite wracking up a hefty student loan debt.

I took the exit for West Park and navigated to my apartment building. Ania and I had been roommates for three years. She was an anomaly; I loved her for it. Socialite and rich, but but still a good person. She'd been amazing towards me from the start. We respected each other's space, cleaned up after ourselves, didn't steal each other's food. We even took turns with chores.

Okay, it helped that we both had the same taste in books. Our shelves were overflowing with smutty paperbacks that would make an old bitty clutch at her pearls.

I found a spot along the street, then climbed out, gathering my things. A window grated open somewhere above. Ania's blonde head popped out. "Ooowwww! Hot momma!" she cat-called before sliding the window shut.

I snorted, glancing down at myself. I was wearing nothing but a one-piece suit and flip flops covered in sand, towel hanging limp in my hand. I slung my swim bag over my shoulder and trudged up to our apartment. She threw open the door before I had the chance to fish for my keys.

"I was just kidding, btw. You look like a drowned kitten."

I scoffed. "Yeah? Well, you look like...a freaking princess. God. How is it that I don't hate you?"

"Because I'm so sugary sweet?" She batted her mascaraed lashes at me.

"Sugar kills, you know. It's called diabetes?"

"Oh, get in here." She reached out, hooking a finger under the strap of my suit, hauling me inside. I dropped my bag beside the dented, upright piano.

I wanted to hate her. She was the epitome of a girly-girl. Mid-height, with voluptuous curves and delicate facial features. Then there was her designer wardrobe. Her closet was filled with frilly gowns in every color. She even wore headbands that looked like crowns.

Me? I was a giraffe. A six-foot-tall giraffe, all gangly limbs and long neck. I had thick black hair that fell mid-back, pale skin that made me look like the undead, and the bluest eyes. That was, maybe the only pretty thing about me. My lean swimmer's body would have been great if it weren't for the man shoulders—freaking man shoulders—that came with the territory. Ugh.

Ania always said I overreacted about them.

"Now, we need to figure out what we're wearing."

"What you're wearing," I corrected, following her down the hall towards her room.

"Oh, you're going, Lils." Her bedroom was a direct contrast to mine.

"I'm not going."

"Yes, you are. Now, sit." She pushed me into her plush chase lounge. I jumped right off of it, perching on the arm.

"I really don't want to go, Ania," I said more seriously this time, beginning to panic. My heart started to pound. Usually, she accepted my introvert tendencies.

"Sometimes, you just don't know what's best for yourself."

"Bullshit," I said. "And you do?"

"I absolutely do! You didn't want to walk across the stage this morning. I had to practically force you to participate in your own graduation."

"That's different," I grumbled. I hadn't planned to accept my bachelor's degree in front of a crowd. I mean, why? There hadn't been anyone there for me.

I ignored the sudden clench in my stomach.

Regardless, Ania was right. Walking across the stage, shaking the dean's hand, was an experience I needed without realizing it. Not until that very moment. I had walked off the stage hugging that damn folio to my chest like a million bucks.

"You never let yourself relax, Lils. Not even for a minute. You need to celebrate. You earned this. We both did." She eyed me, her beatific face serious. "Do it for yourself, if nothing else. Besides, I bet Daniel will be there," she added, wagging her eyebrows.

Ugh.

"Daniel doesn't even know I exist," I mumbled, trying to sound like it didn't matter.

"We'll see about that! I'm going to turn you into a goddess." With that proclamation, Ania threw open her closet doors.

My chest fluttered at the thought. I'd spent my entire life fading into the background. Ania began sliding hangers along the rod.

"The red Eminence gown," I blurted. My cheeks heated.

Ania glanced over her shoulder, a mischievous grin on her lips. "Good choice."

She riffled through her closet until the gown sprang free. She tossed it at me. I wrapped my arms around it, clutching it to my chest.

Eminence was a brand far above my financial status. This dress was unlike anything I usually wore. My entire closet consisted of one color. Black. Black yoga pants. Black knit tops. Black everything.

A flare of uncertainty rushed through me. Maybe this was a bad idea. No, no, it was the perfect idea. Squaring my shoulders, I looked up at Ania. "Let's make me unforgettable." I turned and headed for the shower.

***

Techno music blared like a thumping pulse. The multi-million dollar mansion sat on top of a bluff in Sand Point. It screamed for attention—a desperate plea.

A crowd spilled out onto the front lawn. Exotic cars lined the drive. Gate guards checked each name upon entry, combing over a specially curated guest list.

Laurent slipped by, unseen.

He looked over the scene, wishing he were anywhere else. Bodies crowded the entry, packed into both sitting rooms, staggering past one another, hands clenched around beer bottles and red cups. Drinks sloshed to the floor as people jostled, attempting to mingle and dance.

Several centuries younger, and this would have been a feast, a feeding grounds. Instead, the unpleasant stench of sweat and flesh made Laurent's nose sting. He nearly gagged—

"Disgusting humans," he muttered before striding through the crowd.

He'd received a tip; Kath'ur would be here. Demons didn't smell like humans. Brimstone and smoke poisoned their essence. He followed the obvious tell through the mansion until—

He froze, taking a deeper inhale. Something different flooded his senses, rich vanilla with a hint of florals. He'd never smelled anything quite like it. A dull ache blossomed in his gums. A moment later, it faded. Almost as if he'd imagined it. He gave his head a subtle shake, then moved on.

"...you have to try this stuff, babe. It's like no drug you've ever had."

Laurent paused, listening.

"You...you're sure? It looks kinda gross. What's it called again?"

"Red Allure." Laurent spun in a different direction, stalking down the hall. "It's the best high you'll ever feel, trust me."

His fists clenched. He shook them out almost immediately. He entered a cozy den and found a small group of young adults lounging near an unlit fireplace. He let his quasi-invisibility drop, stalking over to them.

One of the males held a small glass vial, already half empty. Laurent's eyes zeroed in on it, lips pulling back to bare his teeth.

"Woah..." he said, looking up at him. "Damn. This stuff is good."

"Where did you get that?" Laurent demanded.

"Hey man, great cosplay. You're supposed to be from that one show, right?" The guy snapped his fingers, looking over at his friends for help.

One of his friends said, "Sword of Annihilation?"

"Yeah, that's the—!"

"I asked you a question," Laurent said, his voice a lethal calm.

"Hey, man, how am I supposed to know where he went? Out on the terrace, maybe? If you're looking to buy, you'd better—hey! That's mine!"

Laurent lifted the vial and drained it, letting the blood wash over his lips, his tongue, and down his throat. A rush of memories accompanied it. He swore, knowing immediately who it belonged to. Hassan Sadiq. His eyes closed briefly. He tossed the empty vial back at its owner.

"Hey, what the fuck, man?! You going to pay for that?" The guy jumped off the couch and surged towards him. Laurent moved fast—inhumanly fast. He wrapped his fingers around the male's throat and tossed him backwards onto the couch, fleeing the room.

"Hey! What the fuck?!" several shouts followed him down the hall, He turned quasi-invisible again, letting light glance off his body. The trick had taken centuries to perfect.

He strode into the kitchen, searching for Kath'ur. People stood about, mingling, mixing drinks. Glass doors led out to the terrace. He quickened his pace, catching the scent of brimstone and smoke. His hand settled on the door's knob—

The scent from earlier flooded his nostrils. His body went rigid. He inhaled deeply and his mouth went slack. The familiar ache in his gums returned; this time, his fangs emerged. He glanced towards the terrace, then turned on his heel and strode away, abandoning his chase.

He followed the scent down another hallway, to a closed door, stopping just outside. "No, stop," a female voice cried from the other side. "You're hurting me! Daniel, stop!"

Laurent hesitated.

"I'll make it good for you, baby. I promise. I'll fuck you better than you've ever been fucked."

"I highly doubt that," she said.

A small huff fell from Laurent's lips. He reached for the knob.

"Be still!"

"No! Stop. Stop!" The voice ended in a muffled sob, followed by the swish of fabric and a struggle. Laurent's inhuman ears heard it all—her muffled cries, the thump of a body against wood. He turned the knob, unlocking the door with his magic, and met resistance on the other side. He pushed then slipped inside.

"What the fuck?!" the man named Daniel sputtered, stumbling backwards towards the shower. A bathroom. He'd entered a bathroom. A feminine gasp sounded beside him.

He inhaled deeply. How could he not breathe it in? Warm vanilla and rich florals—exactly what he'd smelled earlier. It sat heavy, saturating the air, invading his senses, his mind. His head fell back, eyes lifting towards the ceiling.

"I haven't smelled something like you in centuries," he growled, triumphant.

This changed everything.

He felt the female in his periphery, the scent of her emotions more obvious than a neon sign. His gaze swung in her direction. He blinked, taking her in.

She was dressed in a blood red gown, as if she'd wrapped herself up for him. How delightful. Her thick black hair swallowed the light. Her eyes, bluer than a glacier, pierced him. But it was her skin, her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips, her heaving chest, her lush breasts accentuated by her corset, that left him struggling.

He clenched his fists to keep from reaching towards her, to keep from sinking his teeth into that pale, alabaster neck. He needed control. There was a strategy to be followed. He wouldn't squander this moment.

"Who the fuck are—?"

He wrenched his gaze away, darting across the room, his movements blurring. Daniel dropped to the floor, head thumping against the shower, face concealed.

Behind him, the female gasped. "Is he...? Did you...? What the fuck?!"

She inched backward, eyes wide, reaching for the door. The predator in him exploded to the surface. He blocked her retreat. "Don't worry about him," he willed, grabbing her face, studying it. Her muscles relaxed a measure, eyes still wary. She tried to pull against his unyielding grip. He scented alcohol on her breath.

A needle of disappointment pierced his chest. He'd found himself a useless party girl. But , did it matter?

Most men would take a single look at her and want what was beneath her dress. Him? He wanted what was beneath her skin. Wanted it more than he cared to admit.

"Unbelievable..." he muttered. "What a precious little flower you are. Where have you been hiding, all this time?"

"Let me go," she said, still trying to pull free.

"Let you go?" His voice dropped low, roughening. She shivered against him. "Oh no. You're coming with me. Now."

She blinked. Her eyes darted over him, taking in the silvery white strands of his hair, his sharp vampiric features, and his eyes flooded black with bloodlust. For a moment, there was only silence between them, and then—

She burst into raucous laugher. "Wow. You're good. You're really good. Taegan, right? From Sword of Annihilation?"

His hunger fractured like shattered glass. He frowned, releasing her face. "Sword of...what?!" That was the second time tonight.

"The elf king. Taegan. You're cosplaying him, and this is all some sort of rescue act." She giggled, pressing her hands to her heated cheeks. Her face lit up. He gawked at the beatific transformation, unable to look elsewhere. "Oh, my God! I'm supposed to be the damsel in distress! Wait. Is this being filmed? Are there cameras in here?" Her gaze darted around the room. "Good acting, though. I'm impressed." She lowered her voice by several octaves and began mocking his words.

"Enough," he growled, voice whip sharp. Irritation beat against his skull like an ache. Humans and their fucking television.

The smile wiped clean off her face. "This is supposed to be an act right? A joke?"

"The only joke," he bit out, "is that you would insult me so thoroughly. Elf king, indeed. Let's go." He grabbed her wrist and flung open the door, dragging her out into the hallway. She stumbled after him.

"Wait, stop," she cried. "What are you...you're hurting me. Let go!"

He didn't respond—had wasted enough breath on this infuriating female–but he did loosen his grip to avoid bruising her. She whimpered, stumbling after him in her heels. "Okay. Okay! I don't want to play anymore. Let go of me! Seriously."

Still, he didn't answer, pulling her through the kitchen. He could have willed her. It would've made things easier. The thought almost made him sneer, like a blow to his pride.

"Stop!" she shouted. "Someone—make this guy stop!"

The kitchen was full of people. He wove through bodies, dragging her along behind him. "What's wrong with all of you?! Let go of me!"

Nobody turned in their direction.

He kept a firm grip on her wrist, lips curling with irritation. Her voice cut off—silence. Then, her knees buckled. He was ready for that trick. He spun, catching her up in his arms. He caught a glimpse of her wide, blue eyes before carefully tossing her over his shoulder. The tiny gasp from her lips only stoked his hunger. If she thought someone would save her, she was mistaken.

"Ania!" she screamed, beating her fists against his back, struggling to squirm free. His grip was iron. "Ania, help me!"

He let out a dark chuckle but said nothing. How many humans had he claimed for himself? In all the centuries he had lived? Too many to count.

He strode through the mansion.

No one noticed them. No one so much as answered, even as her screams lifted over the pumping music. After all, no one could see her. He hauled her through the mansion and right out the front door.