Sexting the Vampire Who Owns Me

"You asleep?"

4:00 AM. I had just gotten off work. I tapped the screen and hit send.

Three months. Ever since we matched on that anonymous forum, Morpheus had become my favorite toxic addiction.

I couldn't imagine the withdrawals I'd go through if I didn't get his possessive, filthy texts before bed.

"Can you feel how much I crave you, sweetie?"

The voice note he sent last night echoed in my head. His deep, raspy voice carried a dark gravity that went straight to my core.

My thighs clamped together on instinct. A hot, heavy pull coiled in my lower belly.

I wanted to see him. The urge hit a breaking point tonight.

I wanted to throw away all my caution and meet the man who owned me through a screen.

My phone buzzed. Instant reply.

"Still finishing up work."

Then a second text.

"How could I sleep without hearing from you first?"

I smiled, ready to type out a bold, teasing reply. Then a photo popped up.

A close-up of a study. Dim lighting. A mahogany desk. A glass of dark red liquid.

And right in the center, an open ancient parchment book.

My fingers froze over the keyboard. My smile died.

The blood drained from my face, leaving my limbs freezing cold.

Stamped on the cover of that book was a dark gold crest. A snake eating its own tail, with a bleeding ruby for an eye.

The Ouroboros crest of the Valerius vampire clan.

My breath caught. I stared at the screen for ten solid minutes.

Valerius. The ruthless, thousand-year-old vampire family that ran this city's underground.

And... my employers.

I was their highly-paid human antique restorer, working in the basement of their public museum.

Was my online fling at the Valerius museum too?

Who was he? Some human employee who stumbled into this job like me?

Or... a real vampire?

I bit my lip hard, losing all strength to type.

I couldn't ask. I couldn't even hint at it.

On my first day, I signed an NDA sealed in blood.

If I exposed the supernatural world, I wouldn't just be fired. I'd be drained dry.

If he found out the woman flirting with him online was the fragile human working right under his nose...

Buzz.

Morpheus sent text after text, his aggressive possessiveness bleeding through the screen.

"Why so quiet, sweetheart?"

"Send me a picture. I miss you. Your collarbone... anything."

"I dreamt of you again last night. Pinned beneath me. Taking every inch of me. You were shaking, crying out my name."

Reading those explicit words, another wave of heat rushed through me.

But this time, it wasn't lust. It was pure terror.

Cold sweat soaked my back. A horrifying realization hit me.

For three months, I thought he just had severe insomnia. I thought he was just a fun, exciting partner.

Why didn't I ever put it together? Why was he going to sleep at 4 or 5 AM just like me?

I was nocturnal because I worked for vampires.

What was his excuse?

He belonged to the night. I was sexting an immortal predator.

My screen started flashing wildly.

Incoming call: Morpheus.

My eyes went wide with panic. I scrambled to hit decline.

I couldn't answer. If he heard the shaking in my voice, if he guessed that I knew... I was done for.

Heart pounding against my ribs, I typed out a lie with trembling fingers.

"Sorry! Boss just went crazy and dumped an urgent project on me. Gotta run."

I tossed my phone onto the workbench and gasped for air.

No. I couldn't just sit here like a sitting duck.

I had to find out who he was. Human or vampire?

If he was a vampire... how could I vanish quietly without getting myself killed?

I grabbed my phone and opened our three-month chat history. I scrolled wildly, looking for any clue.

No name. No address. No face pics.

Until my finger stopped on a photo from last month. A shirtless pic he sent to prove his "stamina."

Broad shoulders. Powerful chest. A sharp V-cut.

My eyes moved down. Right next to his abs, under his left ribcage, was a black mark.

Like a tangle of thorns.

A brand. That was a unique clue.

But looking at exactly where that mark was, I closed my eyes in despair.

What kind of clue was this? I couldn't exactly strip every man in the museum to check his abs.