CHAPTER ONE
OLIVIA
I’ve had a long time to get used to being the only one left. Two hundred and fifty years on this earth and it still feels wrong. Empty. Like a party that went on too long, the music cut, and I’m the only guest who didn’t get the hint to leave.
There’s Lennox, of course. My brother. He’s a few years younger than me in the human sense, an eternity in the other. The only reason I turned him was because I couldn’t bear the thought of being here without him – and because back then, I thought eternity was something worth sharing. We’ve made it work. He’s charming, infuriating, a little reckless, and more than once I’ve had to clean up his mess. But he’s all I have left that’s mine.
And then there’s Val. She’s not blood, not living, not anything that should make sense – She’s a ghost who never leaves the mansion. We’ve never figured out why she’s tethered here, and she won’t say how she died. But she talks enough to make up for it. Her voice is the first thing I hear in the morning, and if I’m unlucky, the last thing before sunset.
I live in a glass-and-stone sprawl on the edge of the city. People expect me to haunt a castle, draped in cobwebs and dripping candlewax. They forget that style evolves and so do predators. My home is clean lines, warm light, and space – space to think, space to breathe. I’ve been to enough coffins for one lifetime.
I stand in front of the full-length, silver mirror in my bedroom, towel knotted at my chest, hair damp from the shower. Drops slide down my skin, slow, warm, and for a moment I imagine they’re blood. It’s been too long since I fed on a human. But that’s not what I do. I don’t hunt. I don’t feed of the innocent. Not anymore that is.
The closet lights hum on. Rows of black, silk, and leather. Not because I’m a cliché, but because they fit, they move with me, and because nothing hides a bloodstain better. My hand hovers over a crimson silk blouse before I take it. Red on red. Paired with tailored black trousers and heels that add just enough height to make me untouchable.
The phone on my vanity buzzes.
Lennox: Going out too?
I don’t answer. He knows I am. Knows I need the hunt. Not for food, but for the distraction. When you’ve been alive as long as I have, you crave anything that makes the night feel different.
I finish my lipstick – deep wine, almost black – and slip on the thin gold necklace I’ve worn for decades. Habit. Superstition. Maybe both.
From the hall, Val’s voice drifts in, soft and deliberately sweet. “Try not to kill anyone tonight, Liv.” “Don’t tempt me, Val. You know I used to be very good at it” I say without turning. Her laugh echoes against the walls, the sound of someone who has nowhere else to be.
I grab my coat, keys, and my purse. The city’s calling. And I’m in the mood for something that tastes like trouble.
***
EVE
I am halfway through my second drink and I am deeply, sincerely regretting every single life choice that led me to this bar.
The music is a low, bass-heavy thrum designed to sound expensive. This is not the kind of place I usually frequent on a Friday night. This is a place for people to see and be seen, for networking that blurs into flirtation, for affairs that will inevitably end in a terse HR email.
The only reason I am here is Alex.
He’s seated on the stool beside me, grinning like he’s not the reason I got dragged into this. Over the past year, he’s somehow become my one real friend in this city. He’s sharp, hilarious, and openly, unapologetically gay, which means I never have to wonder if his attention comes with an ulterior motive. We can drink, talk shit, and go home without him ever trying to slide a hand up my thigh. It’s refreshing.
The rest of my colleagues are another matter. They are a loud, shifting cluster of bodies a few feet away. The women are leaning in with practiced laughs, and the men are nodding with a false sincerity that does not reach their eyes. I have never truly fit in with them, but Alex pleaded. And honestly, it still beats another night alone in my apartment, scrolling through things I shouldn’t and feeling the walls close in.
When I moved here a year and a half ago, I told everyone it was for the job. A better teaching position at a more reputable school, a chance at a stable, adult life. The truth was, I was running. I was fleeing a small town where everyone knew my name and my business.
Away from the half-finished relationships, the women I let in too fast and lost just as quickly. And yeah, maybe I thought moving to a big city would make life feel less… beige. So far, it’s been more grey than anything.
“Tell me you’re at least having a little fun,” Alex says, leaning in so I can hear him. I smirk, taking a sip. “I’m having exactly as much fun as someone surrounded by insurance salespeople can have.” He laughs, elbowing me lightly. “Five more minutes, then I’ll rescue you.”
I nod, and my gaze drifts across the room without any real aim. The bar is all polished dark wood and soft, golden light that makes everyone look more attractive than they are. And then my gaze land on someone near the far end, a woman catches my eye – not because she’s doing anything, but because she’s still. Everyone else is in motion: laughing, drinking, leaning. She’s just… watching. I look away before she notices. Taking another sip of my drink and pretending she didn’t caught my eye.
***
OLIVIA
This place is my kind of quiet. Not in volume – the bass hums through the floorboards, glasses clink, laughter rises in warm bursts – but in familiarity. I know the faces here. The staff. The regulars. The ones who drink too much and the ones who want me to notice them.
I come here to unwind. To watch. To remind myself that humans are loud, messy, and alive in a way I’ll never be again.
Some nights I dance. Other nights I hunt if someone catches my attention. Not for blood, just for some release. Fysical touch. Once or twice a week... a girl’s gotta eat, right? And when I do… I choose carefully.
I’m tucked into my usual corner of the bar, long stem of a wine glass between my fingers, eyes moving lazily over the crowd. A man leans in too close to the bartender, a woman drags her friend toward the dance floor, a group at the other end laughs like they’re trying to outdo each other.
My gaze drifts from face to face, and then – I see her.
She’s sitting with a cluster of people who look like they’re trying too hard to prove how much fun they’re having. But clearly, she’s not. Her posture’s easy, drink in hand, a faint smirk tugging at her mouth like she’s in on a joke no one else hears. The man next to her, clearly a friend, judging by the lack of tension, says something that makes her roll her eyes in a way that’s almost… intimate.
She glances my way. Just a flicker of eye contact. But it’s enough.
I let my gaze linger, not too obvious, not too shy. Just long enough for her to feel it, short enough to leave her guessing. Most women meet my eyes and either melt or look away too fast. She does neither. She breaks the stare herself, but not before I catch the tiniest spark of curiosity.
It’s not much. But it’s enough to make me decide. Tonight, she’s the one.
I wait until her friends are loud enough to stop paying attention to her. Then I slide off my stool, take my glass, and cross the room like I’m just heading somewhere else. It’s all about timing – arriving at the exact moment she turns her head and sees me there.
“Your friends are exhausting,” I say, stopping beside her.
She blinks, eyebrows lifting. “I’m sorry… do I know you?”
“Not yet.” I let my mouth curl into the barest hint of a smile. “But I can tell you’d rather be anywhere else.”
***
EVE
Up close, she’s… God. Tall, olive skin, red hair that catches the light, lips painted the kind of dark that makes you think about what they’d look like smudged. She smells expensive. Not just perfume-expensive, more like the air after rain expensive. And she’s looking at me like she knows exactly what I look like naked.
I don’t give her the satisfaction of flinching. “And you’d rather be talking to a stranger than minding your own business?”
Her eyes glint. Not offended, not even surprised. “Only the interesting ones.”
I take a slow sip of my drink, pretending I’m not imagining her hand on my thigh. “Maybe you should keep looking, then.”
I turn my head back toward my friend, dismissing her like I actually mean it. She doesn’t move away from the table. Instead, she leans in, close enough for her breath to ghost against the shell of my ear. Her voice drops. “I will take that as a maybe.” When she straightens up, I am still facing forward, perfectly still. But my heart just jumped. She walks away, and I dare to take a glance at her back, her hips swaying like she’s daring me.
I manage to ignore her for the next twenty minutes, though it takes effort. Every time I glance down the bar, she’s there – relaxed, glass in hand, talking to no one. Not even pretending she’s not watching me.
Alex leans in. “You’re being hunted.” I snort. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “Mm-hm.” He says with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.
Eventually, I slide off my stool and head toward the bar for a refill, and maybe a few seconds of distance. The place is busy enough that I have to wait, shoulders brushing strangers, bass from the music thrumming through the floor. I glance down the bar… and of course she’s moving.
***
OLIVIA
She thinks she’s getting away from me. Adorable.
I shift, closing the space between us until I’m just behind her at the bar. Not touching, but close enough that she’d have to step back into me if the crowd pressed in. She doesn’t move.
When she finally turns her head, I give her the kind of slow smile that says I’ve been waiting for this.
“Stalker much?” she says, brow arched.
I tilt my head, amused. “If I were stalking you, you wouldn’t see me coming.” Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. “Comforting.” She murmurs.
She faces the bar again, shoulders squared like she’s already dismissed me. But I can’t make myself look away. Something in me tightens, deep in the chest, low in the gut. Not just desire but hunger, old and sharp and insistent. It’s not her body that gets to me. Not even her beauty. She is beauty. Dark blonde waves that fall like something I want my hands tangled in. Eyes that aren’t blue, or grey, or green, but something else entirely. They catch the light and cut straight through me. And then the freckles. Fuck, the freckles.
But it isn’t only that. It’s her blood. Screaming beneath her skin, hot and alive and mine.
I shouldn’t be this close. I shouldn’t want her this much. But my body knows something my mind hasn’t caught up to yet.
There’s a pull between us, subtle and unnatural. And every part of me is already answering it.
***
EVE
The bartender appears, and I order without looking at her again. But I can feel her beside me, like gravity, like static in the air, and it takes everything in me not to lean into it.
When I reach for my drink, her hand moves first, passing me the drink the bartender slid down the counter, and her fingers brush my knuckles. Cold. Not just cool – from – a – glass cold – no, cold.
It should be uncomfortable. It should make me want to pull away.
Instead, my stomach drops, and heat rushes up the back of my neck, quick and disorienting. Like my body didn’t get the memo that I’m not interested in her.
I’m not. I’m not.
It’s just that she’s… distracting. Tall, polished, eyes so dark I can’t quite tell where the iris ends. The kind of face you remember even when you don’t want to.
I slide my hand away and pretend not to notice how my pulse stumbles. “Thanks,” I say, neutral as I can manage.
She just smiles like she knows something I don’t.
***
OLIVIA
She thinks she’s hiding it. The way her heart jumped the second I touched her – sharp and fast, like she’d been holding her breath without realizing.
Humans are so easy to read. But her… her reaction feels different. Not just attraction – recognition. As if some part of her already knows me.
I let my fingers linger a fraction longer than necessary before letting her take the glass. “Anytime,” I murmur, watching the way her shoulders shift like she’s trying to reset herself.
She doesn’t meet my eyes again, but I can feel her focus on me. It’s a pull, subtle but constant, and I know she feels it too – even if she won’t admit it yet.
The smart ones never do at first.
***
EVE
By the time Alex and I finally break away from the group, it’s after midnight. My head’s buzzing from the drinks, my cheeks ache from fake smiling, and my patience for people is officially dead.
We say a quick round of goodbyes – the kind you give when you don’t care if you ever see someone again – and head toward the door. The night air hits, cool and damp, smelling faintly of rain and car exhaust.
Alex flags an Uber and pulls me into a hug. “You’ll text me when you get home?” I roll my eyes, but nod. “Yes, Dad.” He grins, waves, and disappears into the backseat of a black sedan.
For a moment, the street feels almost peaceful. A few people are smoking outside the bar, laughter spilling from the open door, but otherwise… quiet. I start walking toward the corner, ready for the short walk home.
“Leaving without saying goodbye?”
The voice stops me cold. Low. Smooth. Familiar enough to make my skin prickle.
I turn. She’s leaning against the side of the building, half in shadow, one heel resting against the brick. It’s the first time I’ve seen her outside the warm haze of the bar, and somehow she’s even more dangerous – looking under streetlight – all angles, red hair catching silver, dark eyes fixed on me like she’s already decided something.
“I didn’t realize we were on speaking terms,” I say, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.
Her mouth curves. “We are now.”
I’m trying to look annoyed, but my breathing betrays me. Fast. Uneven. Tempting. She pushes off the wall, closing some of the space between us. “Walk you home?” she offers, knowing I’ll probably say no.
“I’m good.” I say flatly, stepping around her, heading toward the corner.
“Alright,” She says. “Have a good night, then.”
I keep walking without turning back, but I can hear the smug smile on her lips as she wishes me a good night.
And fuck me for how I wish I could just turn around again and silence her with my own mouth.
But I don’t. I just keep walking.
