Walking on air might have been an exaggeration. What I was actually walking on was a concrete sidewalk, and not an incredibly even one at that. There were cracks, bumps, potholes, and missing chunks everywhere, and I had to keep checking the ground as I walked. I decided to just go home by foot, as my apartment wasn't far from the meeting place and the streets were decently lit.

It was late, just past midnight, but I'd made the walk before. I was wearing decent shoes, I knew the route well, and I had a bottle of bright pink pepper spray in hand. Just in case.

I wasn't a stranger to walking home by myself, and I knew the signs to watch out for.

Unfortunately, I wasn't prepared for a completely silent pursuer that blended perfectly into the shadows.

I didn't even see him until his hands were already on me, one around my mouth to muffle the scream as he dragged me backwards and the other around my waist, pinning my arms to my sides.

"Come on, Weaver, play nice for me," a masculine voice growled.

Weaver? Who the hell was that meant to be? Me? And if it was a reference to my Threads, how could anyone possibly know?

I hadn't told a single person about the Threads in over a decade.

I tried to scream again, but it was futile. I couldn't wrench his hand away from my mouth, and his hold on me was like a vise. Kicking seemed to do absolutely nothing, even when I felt my heels make contact with his shins. Instead, he continued to drag me backwards, away from the street and into a dark, narrow alley between two office buildings that had closed hours before.

That was when I felt the pressure on my neck.

It was like shards of ice jabbed into the space between my neck and shoulder. I screamed again, and this time my attacker didn't bother to muffle it, but I got the impression it was probably too late. Something warm dribbled down my skin as shots of fire and ice ran through my veins, painful and disorienting.

The world started to spin around me. I didn't know how long the pain lasted or how long I screamed, but I knew when he stopped. My legs shook, threatening to collapse, but he held my shoulder firmly in one hand, pressing me against the alley wall to hold me upright.

"Sorry, Princess," he said. Above me, I could see the blurry shadow of a person drag his forearm across his mouth. "Take a nice sleep for now. Better luck next life."

Next life?

My thoughts were blurry and hazy as he let go of my shoulder. I still couldn't quite comprehend what was happening to me, beyond the fact that my neck felt like it was frozen and on fire all at once. The cold had started to spread to my whole body, along with a sense of nausea, dizziness, and muddled thoughts that I vaguely recognized as low blood pressure. My legs buckled and my body dropped as the assailant let go of me—

Something yanked me roughly to my feet almost as soon as I hit the ground, though. Warm hands shoved me back as another tall form placed themselves between me and the attacker.

"Stay back, I'll handle it!" he snapped.

"You really want to go after a vampire after a feed, pretty boy?" the other man scoffed, and I realized why my neck was absolutely throbbing: he bit me. It wasn't cool or sexy like in all the paranormal novels, either. It hurt like a bitch.

"I can take you."

It took a moment for me to recognize the silhouette sweeping through the shadows. He was tall, the moonlight glinting off white hair and something that looked strangely like wings. The Threads swam in and out of my vision as I struggled to orient myself, squinting through the darkness at my rescuer.

It was... Dante?

Vampire speed was terrifying, especially after a taste of blood. My neck burned where his fangs had pierced my skin, and I could feel the natural effects of vampire saliva beginning to take hold. It wouldn't change me, but it would make me sluggish and sleepy, even with fierce amounts of adrenaline coursing though my veins.

Even so, Dante was a ruthless fighter like I'd never seen. This was a side of him that I wouldn't have expected from his soft presence in my shop.

My legs gave out from under me again, and I slumped against the brick wall, struggling to keep my eyes open as Dante countered the vampire's every move. I could see a little through the fog and gloom in the alley, but eventually my eyes fluttered closed against my will.

It was impossible to tell how much time passed in the blackness of unconsciousness, but the next thing that I was aware of was a hand gently patting at my cheek.

"Sunday. Sunday, stay with me," Dante crooned, all the dangerous edge from his voice completely gone.

"Dan... day?" I slurred, eyes fluttering open.

"There she is." He smiled, but the concern in his eyes was clear. "Hold on for me just a little longer. Did he bite you?" he asked, swooping my hair to the side so he could look at my neck.

He did, yeah. Definitely bitten.

"Fuck," Dante hissed before I could reply. "Look at me. Focus."

"Ok," I whispered, struggling to see him clearly.

"That venom is an anti-coagulant. If it stays in your system, you'll bleed out."

I tried to open my mouth to ask another question, but all I managed was a terrified gasp, tears coming to my eyes. Dante held my head in one of his hands, his fingers tangled in my hair and keeping me from lolling to the side.

"It's okay, you're going to be fine. I just need your permission to do something to counteract the venom," he said softly. "It might not be the most comfortable, though."

"Will I... die... if you don't?" I managed, gasping as the world spun again.

"Maybe. You might not, but it'll be easier for you if you let me treat your wound."

I nodded.

His lips were on my neck only a moment later, tongue laving at the painful puncture wounds left by the vampire. At first I whimpered and shrank away on instinct, but he held me in place. It felt like sandpaper over my skin, making the icy cold flare so badly that I wanted to scream.

"I know, I know," Dante crooned against my skin. "The body doesn't like saliva from two vampires in its system at once. Just breathe for me. The wounds will close soon."

Two... vampires?

I knew Dante was Sylvan, but his Threads suggested he was fae, and so did the ghostly Threaded wings that always seemed to float behind his back. Either way, I didn't have much time to dwell on it. The cold slowly faded and the touch became easier to bear, and Dante finally drew away long enough to look at the bite. His eyes narrowed and fingers brushed over it, and I couldn't help but flinch a little.

"Still sensitive?"

I just nodded, focusing on breathing.

"It might be like that for another twelve hours. How are you feeling?"

How was I feeling? Not lucid enough to be able to articulate it, that was for sure. My head was foggy, but I didn't actively feel like I was going to pass out anymore, so that was a plus. The main thing was just...

"Cold," I mumbled.

"Blood loss," Dante said, nodding. "We should get you home."

"How did you get here?" I croaked, voice shaking.

"I was assigned to keep an eye on you," he said with a sigh. "At least, for now."

"Assigned... by... who?" I squeaked.

"That's best discussed in private. We should go somewhere secure— let's get you home," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders just in time to keep me from slumping to the side.

That was when the world started spinning again, and then finally went black.