When Monsters Mate

Lydia’s POV

There was a crack in the ceiling above my bed, long, thin, staring at me like it could somehow understand what I was going through.

There were voices, not mine. Of people laughing, joyous, moans of pleasure while I lay down after another failed attempt at getting pleasure.

This was what peace looked like now.

I didn’t have to walk on thin ice around my father, or his clan members. I didn’t have to hide my talent because I was supposed to sit and look pretty, waiting for when I’d be sold to the highest bidder. This was stillness. This was calm.

I pressed my thumb to the metal cuff in my hand and turned it again. And again.

The bracelet was old. Its silver was dull, the carvings almost worn smooth from years of worry. But I knew them by heart. Every curve. Every line. They weren’t just designs. They were a map. A mark. A memory.

Fifteen years ago, a boy had found me crying in the woods behind the Morvain estate. My dress was torn, my knees scraped. I’d been hiding from another family fight, the kind that started with shouting and ended in silence that lasted weeks.

He had golden eyes, feral and bright, and a voice like laughter on the wind.

He called me Little Moon. Said I was going to bloom no matter how long it took. I wanted to believe him. I wanted us to bloom together. But afterward, he gave me this bracelet and vanished like a ghost.

Sometimes I wondered if I’d imagined him. I wondered if it was because of how desperate I was for companionship, that I often imagined him in my head and created him in my dreams.

But the bracelet was real. It always was.

Even when nothing else felt solid.

The lock on my front door clicked open. A second later, wood slammed against wood.

“Lydia?” came Rina’s voice, sharp and bright. “Tell me you’re not still in bed, you cryptid.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t move. I didn’t need to. She was going to find me after all.

A beat later, she burst into my room holding two coffee cups, a bag of pastries, and a scowl. Her yellow hoodie was blinding. Her energy was louder than anything else in the apartment.

“Seriously?” she asked. “It’s almost noon. You haven’t even moved?”

“I blinked twice,” I murmured.

“Oh, good. Progress.” She kicked the door shut and dropped the bag on my nightstand. “Eat. Or drink. Or both. Or I’m calling an exorcist.”

She flopped onto the bed beside me without permission, which she never needed. Her scent, orange peel and expensive conditioner, spread through the room like sunlight. Too bright and real.

She noticed the bracelet in my hand and gave me a look.

“Still doing the haunted-heroine thing with that?”

I didn’t answer. My eyes were still glued to that crack. For some reason, it bothered me.

Rina sighed and grabbed a pastry, chewing like the world was ending and only carbs could save us. I watched her eat without a care in the world. A smile threatened to spread from my lips, but I saved it. I didn’t have the energy. I turned my face toward the ceiling again.

The crack had grown.

“You’ve been weird lately,” she said between bites. “Like, even for you. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“No.”

“Okay. Want to lie and pretend it’s nothing?”

I shrugged, taking a seat as I rested over the headboard.

She reached over and handed me the coffee. I took it. It was already lukewarm, but I didn’t care. The taste reminded me I still had a mouth. Still had breath.

“Marcus and I broke up again,” she said casually, like it wasn’t the fifth time in six weeks.

“Was it because of the karaoke fight or the grilled cheese?” I said mechanically.

“Karaoke,” she said mournfully. “He said my rendition of Like a Prayer was emotionally aggressive.”

“That’s because it was.”

“I was feeling it!”

I gave a half-smile. “Poor Marcus.”

“Right?” she said, grinning, then leaned her head back. “Anyway, I’m tired of the same people, the same scenes. You know what you need?”

“Please don’t say sex.”

“A night out.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “A bar, some drinks, maybe some… howl at the moon action.”

I blinked at her.

She sighed. “You’re impossible.”

I took another sip of coffee. “I like impossible.”

The room fell into quiet for a moment. The kind that felt like something waiting just outside the door.

Then my phone rang.

Not a text. Not a notification. A full ring.

My spine straightened. I set down the cup. My brows furrowed as I wondered who it could be. My phone never rang because nobody ever called me. Rina and I were practically glued at the hip, so we didn’t need to phone each other.

I pulled the phone from the nightstand and it glowed. My father’s name spread across.

Rina leaned closer. “Is that—?”

I answered without speaking.

“Lydia.” His voice, cold as ever. “You will attend the Founders Ball this Saturday.”

Not a greeting. Not a question. An order. One I wouldn’t dare disobey.

“I wasn’t aware I was still considered part of the Circle,” I replied flatly.

“You’re still a daughter of the House. You’ll be there. Wear something appropriate.”

Something acidic rose in my throat. “Why now?”

A pause. Then: “There are... interests present. People you should meet. And people who should see you.”

My spine straightened.

“Should I be worried?”

“Worry should be the least of your concern, Lydia. Do not be late.”

The line went dead.

I lowered the phone slowly, eyes still glued to it like it could somehow make me understand what was happening.

Rina sat upright, her posture alert. “Okay. What the hell was that?”

“My father.”

“The vampire one?”

“The only one.”

“What did he want?”

I stared at the bracelet still clutched in my hand. The old silver looked darker in the light. It suddenly grew heavier.

“He wants me to attend the Founders Ball.”

Her eyes widened. “The Founders Ball? The one with the wolves and the old bloods and the psychopaths in Versace?”

“That’s the one.”

“Lydia, that’s major.”

“It’s a trap.”

“Or it’s an opportunity,” she said, nudging me. “Maybe the boy will be there.”

“That’s a stretch, Ree.” I scoffed. But Rina simply shrugged, a sly smile on her face. I considered it. In fact, I hoped for it.

Seeing him there might make my mundane life more interesting, might give me a better reason to carry on.

He said I was going to bloom, but I was slowly dimming until I disappeared.

But I couldn’t help the nagging at the back of my mind, that something was going to go wrong.

What if I didn’t recognize him? Or he didn’t recognize me? What then?

I had searched everywhere, returned over and over to the field where we met, to find him. But nothing.

I didn’t know if he was an animal or a human, a fae or a wizard. I had no such information.

But now, however, I had a very different purpose.

I was going to find the bracelet boy.

———

I shouldn’t have gone, but I did.

From the moment I stepped out of the car and saw the gates of House Morvain glowing under a bleeding moon, I knew this would be a night worth regretting.

But I came anyway.

I was clothed in black velvet, draped in a strapless wrap dress with corset lining at the back, my pale breasts pushed forward, nearly kissing my neck. My lips were stained red, and resentment dripped from every step of my silver stilettos as I entered the Founders Ball like a ghost re-entering the ruins of her own grave.

Eyes moved to me, fast and sharp, whispers and thoughts loud in my ear as I passed…

“That’s her. The exile.”

“She ran off to live with the humans. Shameful.”

“She should’ve been stripped of the Morvain name.”

“And now she comes back, like nothing happened?”

I glared at everyone who dared to look at me. I made sure they realized I could hear them. Some cowered in fear. Others barely flinched.

I walked further into the party, my eyes taking in the guests. Vampires, witches, fae... and werewolves?

Now that was a sight. I knew for one that my father hated them. He called them mutts and mongrels more times than I could count. But now that they were here, questions bloomed in my mind.

I looked for the nearest wine pub, snagged a glass of blood, and watched the party unfold. People kept interacting. No one paid attention to me. None that mattered anyway.

I felt my father's presence before I saw him.

“Daughter.”

I tensed, shoulders stiffening.

“Father,” I replied without turning. “Nice company you keep these days.”

His voice was a low thread. “We make alliances where we must.”

“Ah. So hell froze over.”

“I need you to behave tonight,” he said. “Your presence is already a topic of conversation.”

“Let them talk,” I said, sipping. “They already think I’m a traitor.”

His jaw flexed. “You left. Without blessing nor permission.”

“I left to stay sane.”

He didn’t reply.

Instead, he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a near growl.

“This night is more than ceremony, Lydia. It’s history being rewritten. Pay attention.”

I opened my mouth to retort but was stopped by sudden murmurs and gasps. I lifted my gaze from my father’s, trying to locate the source of the disruption. He had since disappeared, so I didn’t have to worry about leaving him behind.

I craned my neck to see. Even with my heeled inches, it was proving difficult. The cause of the stir moved closer, a tall figure gliding through the parted crowd, every eye fixed on him as voices of praise and wonder filled the air.

I finally caught sight of him, and my stomach sank.

A gasp escaped me. My body warmed, a sharp contrast to my normally cool skin.

There stood a man, no, a mountain of a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, devastatingly beautiful.

His dark suit was perfectly tailored, the jacket hugging his muscular frame like a second skin. Midnight-black fabric, sharp lapels edged in silver, the kind of understated opulence that made lesser men look overdressed. His shirt was blood-red silk, the collar slightly open to reveal a neck as smooth and strong as carved stone. Golden cufflinks glinted at his wrists. Polished black boots. Thick, tousled dark hair fell just past his collarbone, framing a face that looked sculpted by sin itself—high cheekbones, strong jaw, and eyes that burned gold. Not amber. Not hazel. Gold.

He commanded attention. Including mine. And that was saying something. I never paid attention to anything or anyone, but this man moved me.

I wanted to touch him, to feel his skin against mine, to confirm he was real.

Guests swarmed toward him, prominent men, even my father among them. They spoke in low voices, faces stiff and unreadable.

But the man towered over every single person in the room. It was like looking up at a pillar.

I gulped more blood and reached for another. I was suddenly... thirsty.

I wished Rina was here. This man looked like he had walked straight out of one of her fantasy novels.

My back turned away from the crowd and their endless chatter. I wanted to leave. I wanted to stay. I wanted to bask in the warmth I knew this mysterious man would bring.

Suddenly, I felt heat. A strange scent hit my nostrils, I inhaled it like an animal. The scent of his blood made me want to sink my teeth into him.

The idea startled me.

I had never thought of something like that.

“The way you’re holding the glass, I fear it’s going to break.”

A deep baritone spoke just behind my ear.

I yelped, startled, and turned immediately, blood splashing onto the stranger’s pristine shirt and down my silver heels.

I cursed inwardly, my eyes trailing up his frame until they reached his face.

I sucked in a breath.

It was him.

“Weren’t you taught not to sneak up on women?” I hissed lowly.

“I didn’t sneak,” he said, smirking, fingers dusting off the liquid on his shirt casually. “You knew I was here. You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

His eyes, bright, golden, glowing now that I was close, dragged slowly across my face.

My body grew warm. My heart thudded violently in my chest.

A strange familiarity hit me deep in my bones, shaking something loose. I stumbled back a step in confusion.

He watched the movement, amused, but said nothing.

“You know I’m a vampire. And I know nothing about you,” I said, trying to steady my voice.

He smirked again. “Leonidas,” he said simply, stretching out his palm politely toward me.

I darted my gaze between his hand and his face.

Did I say he was beautiful?

No.

He was ethereal.

He looked like a fallen angel.

I placed my hand in his. “Lydia.”

“I know your name, Lydia. I know all about you.”

His voice was steady as he gently squeezed my palm.

The contact made me dizzy; dizzy with the need to thirst him.