two more to come Please...
Adrian“I plan to report everything to Dimitri,” Phelix said carefully, “so he can decide whether we hand over the vampire who turned her… or Geoffery, for deceiving us.”I didn’t need to think long. Either way, someone was going to die.But I knew how this would play out. It wasn’t the fault of the vampire who attempted the turning—he couldn’t have known. And Volodymir? He’d never sacrifice Geoffery. The man was too valuable.A loyal servant, head of a bloodline tied too deeply into the old covenants. Volodymir would rather extract a lifetime’s worth of debt from him than offer him up as payment. That was his style—slow control, not clean endings.I wasn’t about to say any of that to Phelix.He was only telling me this much because the fight had happened on my doorstep—outside my club.Otherwise, I’d be hearing it thirdhand like everyone else. He knew that, and so did I.The real conversation would happen behind closed doors—with Dimitri. The decisions, the maneuvering, the blood—non
AdrianArya walked in five minutes later, moving with that same graceful arrogance she always carried like a second skin.“Took you long enough,” I said, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice.“I wasn’t in the club,” she replied, tone sharp—just a little too forward for my liking.I let the silence hang between us for a beat longer than necessary. Her tone was bold, but I understood where it came from.That confidence wasn’t entirely hers. It was inherited—gifted, even—by my mother.Ever since I turned Arya, over two hundred years ago, my mother had made her position clear: Arya was to be kept close.The girl had been the daughter of one of my mother’s closest friends—a bloodline she didn’t want to see vanish. Arya had been dying from a rare illness, the same one that had taken her mother. There was no surviving it.My mother asked me to turn her.And I did.Not out of compassion. Not because I felt some stirring in my undead heart. I did it because of obligation—to my mother, t
CarsonI couldn’t get her out of my head.From the moment our eyes met in the woods, she’d been lodged there—quietly, relentlessly. At first, I tried to shrug it off. Told myself it was nothing. A fleeting thought. A trick of adrenaline.But it wasn’t.Especially not after seeing him behind her. Adrian Balshov. The bloodsucker.Even that didn’t kill the feeling. If anything, it made it worse. Obsessive. Irrational. The pull I felt toward her was something I couldn’t explain—intense, magnetic, and entirely out of my control.I thought it would pass. I thought she'd be like every other girl—intrigued, flattered, maybe a little dazzled. But Natalie? She was different. She didn’t fall for smooth words or good looks. Or maybe she had… just not mine.Maybe it was his.Adrian Balshov—immortal, ancient, powerful. And if she knew the truth about what he was… how many lifetimes he’d lived… how unnatural his very existence was… would she still look at him the same way?Would she still want him?
CarsonI leaned forward slightly, voice lowering. “We might be supernatural, Grant… but we’re still closer to humans than you think. We’re just humans with superpowers.”Grant blinked, caught off-guard. “What are you trying to say?”“I’m saying that, unlike those blood-sucking creatures, we can die. And we do. They’re harder to kill. Much harder. Our parents told us about the war that led to the treaty—for a reason.”I paused, letting the memory settle between us.“All sides bled,” I said quietly. “But we bled the most.”Grant looked away, but I could tell the words had landed.“Yes, we can walk in the sun. Yes, we blend in better. That’s our edge. But don’t forget—Adrian’s clan has that ability too, and some of the strigoi offspring have adapted to a point. Some of them can tolerate sunlight now, even walk the streets in broad daylight. All it takes is one wrong move, and this whole campus turns into a battlefield.”“Needless to say,” I began, keeping my voice steady, “as much as I h
CarsonI stood the moment he walked in. My father’s presence always commanded respect, and I wasn’t about to break tradition. Grant and Willis greeted him formally, then quickly excused themselves, sensing the shift in the air.As soon as the door shut behind them, my father’s expression darkened.“Do you mind telling me why Adrian Balshov is asking for an apology?” he snapped, wasting no time with pleasantries.I exhaled through my nose, cursing silently. Of course this would be the first thing he brought up.“I didn’t get there in time,” I admitted. “It was a questioning gone wrong.”He nodded slowly, but it wasn’t approval—it was disappointment settling in.“He isn’t even part of the Strigoi clan,” he said. “So why take the fight to his doorstep? Why drag him into it?”“It was a mistake,” I said, standing my ground. “And I plan to apologise to him personally to make it right—”“You will do no such thing,” he growled, cutting me off.I tensed but stayed silent.“I’m tired of those t
Natalie“Friday after lectures,” I said, my voice softer than I intended.“No interruptions,” he promised.I sighed and then hung up. He’d called me twice since the last time we saw each other, and on both calls, I ended things quickly. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I just didn’t want the conversations to feel finished. Hanging up meant there was still something lingering. It felt better that way—like we weren’t done.“Was that Adrian?” Lisa asked, dropping down beside me on the bench. We were at the campus park, under one of those old trees that always dropped leaves no matter the season.I smiled in her direction but didn’t say anything right away.“So, it’s official?” she pressed, eyes watching me closely.I hesitated.He had said things that day at his getaway home—things that hinted at something real. But I couldn’t tell if it had just been the heat of the moment, or if he’d truly meant it. And then there was the issue with my uncle, always looming in the background like a shadow I co
NatalieI didn’t need to stop by my apartment—everything was already in place. My weekend bag was packed. I'd arranged everything with the quiet hope that Adrian would pick me up from my mother’s house tomorrow, just like he’d promised.When I got home, the sky was already beginning to shift into dusk. Two hours left before the ball.My mother greeted me with her usual calm, and without needing to ask, she helped me get ready—fixing my hair, touching up my makeup. I hadn’t planned to make a statement tonight, but with the chance Adrian might be there, I couldn’t help myself.Even if I wouldn’t say it out loud—I wanted to look good. Not just because of him, but maybe… because of what he made me feel.My gown was cream, soft as breath and stitched with tiny pearls that caught the light when I moved. It flowed around me, elegant and silent, with a slit running high up my right thigh—subtle, but bold. It showed more skin than a short dress ever could, and I wasn’t used to that.My hair wa
NatalieI stood under the flimsy canopy Lisa had set up, handing out animal cruelty campaign fliers.It was a sweet little setup—messy, mismatched, but hers. I liked that about her. And in a town like Hawkshire, where boredom wrapped around you like a heavy coat, helping her felt like a lifeline.I didn’t want to be here. Cainebrielle University wasn’t my choice—it was my uncle’s dream, not mine.I was just playing along, stuck in a place that felt too polished, too fake, and miles away from anything that felt like home.My old life—my friends, my city, the pulse of it all—was behind me now. All I had was this quiet town and a school filled with kids who had never had to fight for anything.Lisa was the one good surprise.We met during orientation—two misfits orbiting the same chaos. She didn’t care about Greek life or social clout. She just wanted to laugh and talk about weird documentaries and help animals. That was enough for me.Cainebrielle might’ve been built for the ultra-rich,
NatalieI didn’t need to stop by my apartment—everything was already in place. My weekend bag was packed. I'd arranged everything with the quiet hope that Adrian would pick me up from my mother’s house tomorrow, just like he’d promised.When I got home, the sky was already beginning to shift into dusk. Two hours left before the ball.My mother greeted me with her usual calm, and without needing to ask, she helped me get ready—fixing my hair, touching up my makeup. I hadn’t planned to make a statement tonight, but with the chance Adrian might be there, I couldn’t help myself.Even if I wouldn’t say it out loud—I wanted to look good. Not just because of him, but maybe… because of what he made me feel.My gown was cream, soft as breath and stitched with tiny pearls that caught the light when I moved. It flowed around me, elegant and silent, with a slit running high up my right thigh—subtle, but bold. It showed more skin than a short dress ever could, and I wasn’t used to that.My hair wa
Natalie“Friday after lectures,” I said, my voice softer than I intended.“No interruptions,” he promised.I sighed and then hung up. He’d called me twice since the last time we saw each other, and on both calls, I ended things quickly. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I just didn’t want the conversations to feel finished. Hanging up meant there was still something lingering. It felt better that way—like we weren’t done.“Was that Adrian?” Lisa asked, dropping down beside me on the bench. We were at the campus park, under one of those old trees that always dropped leaves no matter the season.I smiled in her direction but didn’t say anything right away.“So, it’s official?” she pressed, eyes watching me closely.I hesitated.He had said things that day at his getaway home—things that hinted at something real. But I couldn’t tell if it had just been the heat of the moment, or if he’d truly meant it. And then there was the issue with my uncle, always looming in the background like a shadow I co
CarsonI stood the moment he walked in. My father’s presence always commanded respect, and I wasn’t about to break tradition. Grant and Willis greeted him formally, then quickly excused themselves, sensing the shift in the air.As soon as the door shut behind them, my father’s expression darkened.“Do you mind telling me why Adrian Balshov is asking for an apology?” he snapped, wasting no time with pleasantries.I exhaled through my nose, cursing silently. Of course this would be the first thing he brought up.“I didn’t get there in time,” I admitted. “It was a questioning gone wrong.”He nodded slowly, but it wasn’t approval—it was disappointment settling in.“He isn’t even part of the Strigoi clan,” he said. “So why take the fight to his doorstep? Why drag him into it?”“It was a mistake,” I said, standing my ground. “And I plan to apologise to him personally to make it right—”“You will do no such thing,” he growled, cutting me off.I tensed but stayed silent.“I’m tired of those t
CarsonI leaned forward slightly, voice lowering. “We might be supernatural, Grant… but we’re still closer to humans than you think. We’re just humans with superpowers.”Grant blinked, caught off-guard. “What are you trying to say?”“I’m saying that, unlike those blood-sucking creatures, we can die. And we do. They’re harder to kill. Much harder. Our parents told us about the war that led to the treaty—for a reason.”I paused, letting the memory settle between us.“All sides bled,” I said quietly. “But we bled the most.”Grant looked away, but I could tell the words had landed.“Yes, we can walk in the sun. Yes, we blend in better. That’s our edge. But don’t forget—Adrian’s clan has that ability too, and some of the strigoi offspring have adapted to a point. Some of them can tolerate sunlight now, even walk the streets in broad daylight. All it takes is one wrong move, and this whole campus turns into a battlefield.”“Needless to say,” I began, keeping my voice steady, “as much as I h
CarsonI couldn’t get her out of my head.From the moment our eyes met in the woods, she’d been lodged there—quietly, relentlessly. At first, I tried to shrug it off. Told myself it was nothing. A fleeting thought. A trick of adrenaline.But it wasn’t.Especially not after seeing him behind her. Adrian Balshov. The bloodsucker.Even that didn’t kill the feeling. If anything, it made it worse. Obsessive. Irrational. The pull I felt toward her was something I couldn’t explain—intense, magnetic, and entirely out of my control.I thought it would pass. I thought she'd be like every other girl—intrigued, flattered, maybe a little dazzled. But Natalie? She was different. She didn’t fall for smooth words or good looks. Or maybe she had… just not mine.Maybe it was his.Adrian Balshov—immortal, ancient, powerful. And if she knew the truth about what he was… how many lifetimes he’d lived… how unnatural his very existence was… would she still look at him the same way?Would she still want him?
AdrianArya walked in five minutes later, moving with that same graceful arrogance she always carried like a second skin.“Took you long enough,” I said, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice.“I wasn’t in the club,” she replied, tone sharp—just a little too forward for my liking.I let the silence hang between us for a beat longer than necessary. Her tone was bold, but I understood where it came from.That confidence wasn’t entirely hers. It was inherited—gifted, even—by my mother.Ever since I turned Arya, over two hundred years ago, my mother had made her position clear: Arya was to be kept close.The girl had been the daughter of one of my mother’s closest friends—a bloodline she didn’t want to see vanish. Arya had been dying from a rare illness, the same one that had taken her mother. There was no surviving it.My mother asked me to turn her.And I did.Not out of compassion. Not because I felt some stirring in my undead heart. I did it because of obligation—to my mother, t
Adrian“I plan to report everything to Dimitri,” Phelix said carefully, “so he can decide whether we hand over the vampire who turned her… or Geoffery, for deceiving us.”I didn’t need to think long. Either way, someone was going to die.But I knew how this would play out. It wasn’t the fault of the vampire who attempted the turning—he couldn’t have known. And Volodymir? He’d never sacrifice Geoffery. The man was too valuable.A loyal servant, head of a bloodline tied too deeply into the old covenants. Volodymir would rather extract a lifetime’s worth of debt from him than offer him up as payment. That was his style—slow control, not clean endings.I wasn’t about to say any of that to Phelix.He was only telling me this much because the fight had happened on my doorstep—outside my club.Otherwise, I’d be hearing it thirdhand like everyone else. He knew that, and so did I.The real conversation would happen behind closed doors—with Dimitri. The decisions, the maneuvering, the blood—non
AdrianI left Natalie’s place with tension coiled tight in my chest. The moment I found out someone had ignored my direct orders, the night was over. Someone—bold or foolish—had decided to call my bluff and tell Graham exactly where I was.I had a few suspects in mind. Faces. Names. But I wasn’t the type to act on impulse. Not yet. I needed to be certain before making a move that couldn’t be taken back.Natalie hadn’t been happy about the interruption. I didn’t blame her. We'd barely had any time together before the knock interrupted us. Her eyes said everything—disappointment, frustration, the silent question she didn’t bother asking: Can you ever just stay?But this wasn’t something I could let slide. Neither of us was pleased, and both of us knew why.The club was packed—loud, chaotic, electric. Heat rolled off the crowd, thick with music and the scent of sweat, perfume, and blood.Most nights, I’d make my way to the VVIP section, let the night blur under strobe lights and velvet r
Natalie“Let’s give it time, Mom,” I said softly, my fingers tightening around hers. “I have a plan.”She pulled back slightly to look at me, her eyes scanning mine—hope flickering there, desperate to latch onto anything that resembled a way out. “A plan?” she echoed, her voice tentative.“I’ll stall Uncle Michael,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “We won’t leave. Not yet. Not until your treatment is complete. And if he still insists on pushing this marriage nonsense… then we’ll go. But I want to be sure we’ve explored every option first.”She let out a small, bitter laugh and shook her head, though a trace of a smile tugged at her lips. “How long do you think you can stall your uncle?” she asked, her tone laced with dry sarcasm. “He’s not exactly the patient type.”Her laugh quickly faded, replaced by a flash of shame, and I saw it then—that quiet anger she carried. Not at me. At herself. At her body for failing. At the fact that her illness had become chains, not just around he