A dull throbbing in her head. The faint scent of leather and dark cologne. The lingering taste of whiskey and sin.
Her eyes flutter open.
The room is unfamiliar—dimly lit, draped in shades of black and deep crimson. Too luxurious. Too pristine. Too wrong.
Her breath stilled.
She pushed herself up, and that's when she noticed.
Her dress was gone.
Instead, she wore a white button-up shirt, the fabric sliding against her bare skin, barely covering her thighs.
Her stomach twisted.
Where am I?
Before she could process the question, the door creaked open.
And he walked in.
Tall. Commanding. Every step exuding effortless power.
His sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, and piercing eyes should have made him look angelic, but the way he carried himself—predatory, deliberate, dangerous—was anything but.
He adjusted his cufflinks, his black tuxedo perfectly tailored to his frame, like a man who owned the world and everyone in it.
Her pulse skittered.
"Who are you?" Her voice came out raspier than she wanted. "Where am I?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped forward—slow, calculated.
Her breath hitched as he neared, his presence swallowing the space between them.
She tried to shift back, but the bed stopped her. Trapped.
His gaze flickered down—to her parted lips.
Her heart pounded.
His breath brushed her mouth as he murmured, "Like I told you yesterday… and like I'm telling you now."
She could barely think, barely breathe, with how his voice seeped into her skin like liquid fire.
His lips quirked slightly, eyes darkening. "I'm a vampire, baby girl."
The words slid down her spine like ice.
She scoffed, trying to mask the way her fingers trembled against the sheets. "As if I'd believe that."
He hummed, his smirk deepening.
"It's up to you to believe or not."
Something flickered in his expression—something unreadable, something ancient.
Then she felt it.
A shiver crawled up her arms.
The air shifted, pressing against her like an invisible force.
It was subtle. Wrong.
Like the room itself breathed around him.
Her chest rose and fell too fast, the oxygen too thick, her skin too hot.
But her thoughts scattered when she noticed something else.
The shirt barely covered her thighs.
The realization hit her like a slap, heat spreading up her neck.
She yanked the fabric down, voice sharp. "What you did to me?"
His smirk didn't falter. If anything, it grew.
"Relax, baby. I'm not one of those men who take advantage of a girl when she's drunk." His fingers brushed her jaw, featherlight. "I'm the one they beg for… when they're sober."
Her breath stuttered.
His confidence was infuriating. And yet… the way he looked at her—as if she were something to devour—sent heat curling low in her stomach.
She forced herself to glare. "So full of yourself, aren't you? tell me, who changed my clothes?"
He tilted his head, watching her.
"Of course, me."
A slow smirk. Unapologetic. Shameless.
She stiffened, her grip tightening on the sheets.
"But don't worry," he added, his voice dropping to something wicked. "i closed my eyes "
His lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something else, but then he leaned in, so close she could feel his breath glide over her throat.
"Maybe."
Something inside her snapped.
Anger flared in her chest as she threw the blanket off and charged at him.
She barely registered the way the cold air kissed her skin before she swung her hand up, aiming to slap that arrogant smirk off his face—
But he was faster.
Much faster.
Before she could blink, her wrists were seized, pinned against his chest.
A gasp slipped past her lips as her body collided against hard muscle.
Her mind spun.
He was so close.
The scent of him—intoxicating, lethal—like dark wine and untamed hunger.
Her throat dried.
His gaze dipped to her mouth. Lingered.
And that's when she realized it.
The space between them had disappeared.
She sucked in a breath—wrong move.
His scent wrapped around her. A spell. A trap.
Her thighs clenched involuntarily, and that's when his expression shifted.
A shadow of something darker, deeper, more primal crossed his face.
She swallowed.
"Careful, baby girl." His voice was velvet and sin. "Keep looking at me like that, and I might think you want another kiss."
Her stomach dipped.
Before she could react, his hands shifted.
In a blink, he lifted her off the ground.
She gasped, her balance vanishing as she landed against the plush mattress.
Before she could scramble away, he was on her.
Hovering above, caging her in.
And then—
His lips crashed against hers.
Not gentle. Not patient. Devouring. Insatiable. A storm of hunger.
She whimpered before she could stop herself.
And God help her—she kissed him back.
His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head, deepening the kiss. His tongue teased, demanded, owned.
She should have pushed him away. Should have resisted.
But the way he kissed—like he was starving for her, like she was something forbidden yet irresistible—
She was drowning in it.
And she never wanted to come up for air.