Friday night chaos ruled in the Lion's Den, a nightclub on the 7th Avenue.

Deep dark reflector light shined through artificial fog, combining with real cigar-induced smoke, creating vivid and vibrant tendrils in the air. The entire place thudded with music. Dorian always made sure the music evoked feelings of physical pleasure: sensual, saccharine and seductive. His signature was everywhere; the music, the sweet, sweaty smell, the red velvet wrapping the entire place like a neat present. Ready to consume.

Bodies danced, swayed and bumped into each other in the darkness, drunk on booze, life and Molly. Their blood smelled like sex, desire, destructiveness. An intense sensation of carefreeness captured the nightclub in its sharp talons, unrelenting in its desire to keep them here until the early morning hours.

Part of me wanted to dance with them, give in to the addictive atmosphere, forget the reasons why I came. But I was sober and annoyed. Deeply annoyed.

I gripped the wine glass, staring for a moment at the red tint of the liquor, the same colour as my nails. Sweat coated my neck, drenching my chocolate-coloured hair, and the sleek black dress glued to my bare legs.

I haven't slept in five days.

The fear of seeing them again flashed in the darkness like the ugliest monster every time I closed my eyes. Now, sitting in the lounge, waiting for them to call on me, the insomnia began to take its toll. The control gradually slipped from me and I gripped the glass, channelling my nervousness through it.

It cracked.

"Fuck!"

Wine spilled down my hand, dark as blood. The pieces of glass remained in my hand. I stared at the mess, my heart thudding in my throat.

When I left two years ago, I vowed never to return.

The right to converse with the Chief of NYC, my father, disappeared with that vow.

And now... Now I had to beg. Bow my head, get on my knees and plead for forgiveness, for a moment of his time. The mere idea forced bile to my throat.

And I had no wine to wash it down with. Lifting my head, I scanned the club for the waiter, but instead, my eyes found a peculiar figure leaned against the bar, staring at me.

In comparison to the hectic crowd, he seemed still as a statue. Under the dim club lighting, his eyes appeared dark and alert, half hidden behind the equally dark hair strands framing his face. Intricate tattoos climbed up his arms, until they disappeared behind the short sleeves of his black tee. Red hues lit his face every few seconds, allowing a better look at the tattoos on his neck, vines and lines curling around the bulging muscles.

He was huge; a titan amongst men, calm against the careless crowd, composed, watchful. Cold sweat washed over me under his observing gaze. In an instant, I felt like someone caught me in a crime.

The embodiment of my worst nightmares – a vampire hunter.

No. I looked away and shook my head. Pieces of cracked glass fell off my hand. No. They don't know about us. They think we look like the Elders.

I forced myself to look up again. The man was still staring, although now, his lips spread into a small smile, as if apologizing. Sorry if I creeped you out.

"We apologize for the wait." A sweet, saccharine voice made me look away and up at the doll-faced petite blonde, dressed in a fitting black suit, "Gentlemen were busy."

"Busy draining someone's life force, presumably." I murmured and watched the lady's lips twitch in a nervous smile.

I cocked my head to the side, observing her more carefully. She was a pretty thing, for use. Short and small, with perky breasts. Skin pearly white. Red contact lenses covered the blue of her eyes. My stomach flipped with disgust.

A vampire lover.

Plenty of them emerged after that unfortunate Times Square incident. Since the Elders had red eyes, these pathetic copycats wore red contacts all the time. One of the aforementioned gentlemen must be sucking this poor creature dry and making her work for him.

Even though I didn't take her presence seriously, it unnerved me for different reasons.

Our kind usually avoided the vampire lovers. They weren't only a nuisance, but also a liability. Fucking and sucking them was one thing, but hiring them and letting them appear in public wearing those ridiculous lenses was just stupid.

"You're one of Dorian's, aren't you?" I asked, swallowing as much venom as possible, but it still seeped out.

The woman's well-practiced smile disappeared, "I- I'm sorry?"

"You're Dorian's pet, aren't you?" I repeated.

Her small fists clenched in what seemed to be a consequence of assertiveness training. She lifted her chin and took in a sharp breath.

"I am your brother's betrothed."

I stared at her for one long, confused moment. A smile emerged on my face. I burst out laughing. The girl, of course, took offense, and her lower lip popped out in an angry pout.

"Honey, Edmond doesn't get betrothed." I said through the laughter, "Go find a therapist and stay away from my brother."

"You don't know what you're talking about." She crossed her hands on her chest and taps her kitten heel against the matte tiles. Then, as if remembering what she came here to do, she added. "They'll see you now."

The word they brought me back to reality. My lips flattened.

Without a word, I grabbed my lack purse and entered the dark hallway after the girl. She locked the door behind us and moved silently down a flight of stairs. Another door awaited downstairs, made out of dark steel. A red 'no trespassing' sign hung from it.

Heavy, musky scent of blood reached my nostrils the moment the door opened. I breathed in on instinct, regretting it immediately. The smell was intoxicating, inescapable, and it only grew stronger the closer I got. Swallowing the urge in my belly took some effort.

The room was small and secluded; red velvet lounges lined the walls, glass tables rested on the black carpets between them, laden with whiskey bottles, empty glasses and platters sprinkled with white powder. Only one door, hidden behind a ceiling-to-floor thick black curtain, led out.

Two men sprawled over the lounges – my brother, Edmond Zaleria, and Dorian Darascu.

My heartbeat spiralled out of control, beating angrily against my ribcage.

Two human girls were there too, their necks scarred and bloody. Both half-naked brunettes, with tiny dresses lifted up to their hips, allowing a generous look at the black lace covering their most intimate parts.

"Odette Zaleria." The blonde girl from upstairs announced me and stepped aside.

"Hello, sis." My brother's thin pale lips spread into a salacious grin, showing his bloody teeth. "Anne, you're excused."

The human girl by my side bowed her head and disappeared behind the black curtain, the sound of her kitten heels lost to the black carpet covering the floor.

I didn't bother forcing a smile as I looked over my welcome committee, "Edmond, Darascu."

Dorian smiled, catching the tone of my voice, and fixed his midnight black suit. As I looked at him after two years, I realised I still remembered each line of his face. The thin lips, sharp jaw, the pushed back silver hair, darker at the roots, loose strands falling over his eyes. He was still terrifyingly gorgeous, ethereal, like a sculpture, a statue, a phantom.

I remembered his eyes the best. Two orbs – the darkest shade of blue, the colour of dusk mere moments before the night devoured the world, calm and deep, barely human.

I remembered his eyes, because they still fucking haunted me in my dreams.

Anger pulsated through me.

"When Anne told me you had announced your visit, I could hardly believe." Edmond added to my anger when he pushed off his lap rather sharply one of the brunettes.

Edmond and I were similar in appearances; long chocolate-coloured hair splayed over our bodies and eyes of that strange colour that took on the shade of whatever was around, like two glowing chameleons, sometimes green, sometimes yellowish, sometimes brown. My features were gentler, though, female. Edmond was, on the other hand, all angles: long, sharp nose, sullen face with protruding cheekbones, thin lips, and fangs he never bothered to hide. His hair remained tied in a low ponytail as always. He was still handsome, in a predatory way. Like a bad decision.

The girl he pushed off his lap collapsed on the couch, breathing deeply. My facial muscles twitched with disgust at the haze in her gentle brown eyes. These poor girls probably didn't even know where they were. They were both way too pale. I wondered how much these assholes drank.

"I thought this would be a family meeting." I said, eyeing Dorian. "Could you perhaps find somewhere else to be?"

Dorian said nothing, but his mocking smile spoke loud enough.

Edmond reached for the platter with white powder, "You've expressed your desire to speak to the Chief."

"Father." I cut in. "I came to speak to my father."

"No." Edmond cocked his head my way. "You came here to ask whether you're allowed to speak to the Chief. It's up to the Council to decide."

I suppressed the urge to jump on him and ruin this entire meeting.

"Lucien already said he wanted me back." I said instead and glanced at Dorian, "And this one has no business allowing me anything."

Dorian's smile twitched for a moment, but he fixed the facade and leaned into the lounge with even more leisure.

"Lucien is one, my dear sister." Edmond cut the line on the silver platter. "If the majority of the Council thinks you should stay away from our family, that's the way it will be."

"Fine." Venom laced my voice. "Lucien agrees, you disagree. Where is Libby? I suppose she's the one who replaced me."

"While it's true you've been replaced," Edmond rolls a bill between his fingers, "it's not Libby."

Confusion threw me off for a moment.

"You replaced me with Anton?" I forced my expression into mild annoyance, though I deeply feared the scenario in which my youngest brother sat on the Council. "Of all the siblings we have, Edmond-"

"It's not Anton."

My eyebrows jumped up against my will. Like an idiot, I named all of our siblings in my head, irrationally scared of forgetting one of them. If it wasn't Libby or Anton-

Edmond cut in, "It's no one from the family."

Right on cue, Dorian laughed, "Well, practically family."

Anger flashed behind my eyes, creating black and red and yellow dots in my field of vision. Ache began in my gums and spread to my front teeth.

No. Gods, no.

"No." I said out loud, gaze jumping between my smirking brother and the smirking son of a bitch casually leaning against the lounge. "That's- that's against the rules, brother."

"And you said we were incapable of change." Dorian brought the whiskey glass to his lips.

For a moment, I couldn't gather my thoughts. Vivid anger bit my veins, urging me to sink my teeth into this bastard's neck and tear through his arteries until there wasn't an ounce of blood left in his body. Dorian snickered, like he read my fucking thoughts.

"You've replaced me with a Darascu?" I shouted, not giving a shit that I lost my temper when I should have kept my cool. "Dorian Darascu! To what end, Edmond? To what fucking-"

"Relax, draga." Dorian's eyes smiled knowingly. "You're under assessment."

"I'll fucking kill you." I spat. "I'll dance on your fucking grave."

"Charming." He chuckled.

"Odette." Edmond cut in, equally amused by my raging outbursts. "Don't you know? Dorian and Libby are getting married and since Libby isn't capable of sitting on the Council, he's taken over her duties."

Every word he uttered felt like a slap to my face, ego and pride. I found myself incapable of processing this development. My mind was scattered and lost.

Desperately, I used the nickname, "Eddy, he'll kill you. You know he will. He wants to be the next Chief-"

Edmond waved with the whiskey glass. "Dorian is right, you're under assessment. Please, either tell us what you're doing here or get out."

My temples began to pulsate and I had to take a deep breath to keep my fangs from popping out. This was bigger than me, bigger than my ego. Remember that, Odette.

"I have to talk to father." I said through my teeth. "There have been... disturbances."

"Of what kind?" Edmond gestured towards the empty armchair and even though I wanted to keep standing, I sat down.

The least I could do was try to have a civil conversation, but I have already begun feeling cornered. I expected Libby. Libby has always been on my side.

Then again, she did not tell me she was getting married to Dorian Darascu.

"Vampire hunters." I spoke, remembering why I came here in the first place. "They know about us."

"Everyone knows about us." Dorian took the cocaine platter and cut himself a line. "Adalhard made sure of that when he decided to end his miserable existence by bursting into flames in front of cameras, which truly is the only right way to go, now that I think about it."

"They know about us." I repeated. "And how wouldn't they? You haven't exactly gone into hiding since the war. Humans aren't stupid, you know? They realised we must look a lot more like them and a lot less like the Elders to be able to move around unnoticed. They're after us."

"No." Dorian leaned against his knees, his dark blue eyes purplish under the red light. "They're after bald creatures with forty teeth in their mouth and glowing red eyes. And the Elders have gone into hiding. We're safe."

A sneer found its way to my lips, "I knew you were a soulless bloodsucking creep, but I never took you for an idiot."

Dorian's smile disappeared, "And I knew you were entitled, but I never took you for a frustrated bitch demanding to speak to the manager."

"Ah, how I missed having the two of you in the same room." Edmond chuckled. "Let's vote, shall we? Odette wants to speak to our father. Lucien is on her side. I'm against it. Dorian?"

I leaned against the backrest, suddenly realising that calling the man deciding my fate an idiot wasn't the way to go. Dorian's looked at me, something equally familiar and strange shining in his eyes. I tried to read him, but it was futile.

I've never been able to read him.

He took a sip of whiskey, "No. You can't talk to your father."

I jumped out of my seat before my muscles managed to warn my brain. Pain spread through my mouth and my fangs popped out. Jumping across the room, I landed right on Dorian, spilling the whiskey, knocking down the cocaine platter, aiming for the kill. Hands grabbed my waist and pulled me off before I did any damage. Edmond threw me across the room and my back hit the mirror. Sounds of cracking spread around us. My bones or the mirror, I didn't know.

Dorian laughed out loud, "Still just as impulsive."

"Fuck you!" I lifted myself off the floor. "You have no right to take my place on the Council. Who do you think you are, you miserable piece of shit?"

My heels fell off during the jump. Pieces of glass cut through my bare feet. The black carpet soaked up the blood – it was made for that purpose, after all.

"Gods, you're feral." Dorian chuckled. "I think this matter is settled."

"I agree." Edmond was already on his phone, "Dorian, escort her out."

Anger fuelled the bitter tears in my eyes. Yes, there was a legitimate threat looming over our species. But there were other things, too. Things I couldn't tell them without risking at least two innocent lives. This I couldn't discuss in front of Edmond, because I'd kill him for real.

"I know my way out." I grabbed my heels and purse and left the room.

Fortunately, Edmond's 'betrothed' wasn't here to laugh in my face.

I truly believed Libby would be waiting on the Council, ready to accept my proposals, putting me in front of our father in no time. I wasn't counting on Dorian Darascu.

As I ascended the staircase, I realised Dorian was following me.

"I know my way out!" I shouted, debating whether I should throw him over the fence, for old times' sake.

Dorian caught up with me and unlocked the door to the nightclub, "You shouldn't have returned."

Sensual music reached my ears again, clouding my thoughts. Tears fell freely down my cheeks. Emotions swirled inside me, too mixed to make any sense of them. I wiped the tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand and looked at Dorian. He stood on the other side of the door – the side I wasn't allowed to.

I had no idea why I expected any guilt from him. I've never known why I expected anything from Dorian Darascu.

"You stole my seat on the Council." I forced through my teeth.

His lips flattened, any mockery disappearing from his dark blue eyes.

"They would have stolen your soul."

He slammed the door in my face.

Without enough patience of nerves to ponder over his words, I faced the club and desperately went through my purse, hoping I had enough cash for another drink.

Once I looked up, I found a single glass of red wine waiting on my table.

And the stranger, still leaned against the counter, raising his beer in my direction.