It turned out that whatever idiot Rey had — reincarnated? — into had wandered into a den of very fancy vampires.

Which was…less than stellar.

Leopold Fisk. The Vampire King. The name had come to him unbidden, like it had been buried deep in his memory. That was the intimidating figure on the obsidian throne with hair darker than a moonless night. Once Rey’s fever — born of a cold, dank dungeon and too little to eat — broke, his clearer head had connected the dots. There wasn’t much else an intimidating, brooding man with sharp teeth and red eyes could be. It was frankly embarrassing it had taken him so long to figure it out in the first place.

What he hadn’t been able to figure out was where he’d been taken when they left the throne room. No one would answer his (numerous) questions, instead dumping him — confused and alone — in a decadent chamber of crushed velvet and flickering candlelight.

He took the time alone to examine his new body. He couldn’t exactly complain: though it had clearly seen better days, it was handsome and healthy. With a good wash his long, pale hair would be exquisite. And from what he could tell without a mirror, his fingers probing gently over his face, he possessed a strong jaw and regal nose. 

Rey eyed the door. 

He wasn’t locked in here.

Somehow, that was scarier.

Like hell he was risking that. He still didn’t know where he was or who he could trust. 

By the time the door opened some hours later, Rey had mostly made peace with being completely screwed. Or maybe he’d utterly dissociated, it was hard to tell which. He sat patiently on the opulent bed in the center of the wall, eyes blank and unseeing, trying to recall what exactly had happened back in Italy.

“I see you’re still here.”

It was that voice. Low and horrific, making something inside of Rey want to slither away and hide. Rey snapped his eyes to Fisk, watching him carefully. “Yes…your highness.”

The King swept into the room, leaving the door open behind him. A grand cape hung from his impressive shoulders, and he took the elegant crown from his head, setting it on the nightstand. “Good. Though you are not a prisoner here, I have an exciting proposal for you.”

Rey scrunched his nose. “Not…a prisoner?” He furrowed his brow. “Was that not what I was this entire time? I don’t even know where I am or how to leave.”

The King turned his bejeweled eyes on Rey. The intensity of his stare was almost mesmerizing. “You were detained for questioning. We have determined you are not a threat. If you choose to do so, I will take you to the gates myself. You do, however, have something I want quite badly. And I am willing to compensate you handsomely should you agree.”

“I have a choice?”

The King pursed his lips. It was weird, to see regret in the eyes of a predator. “Of course you have a choice. I am not in the business of coercing the unwilling.”

Rey tilted his head, making a face. “Sorry, but you don’t exactly strike me as someone who reacts well to hearing the word ‘no.’”

The King smirked. “You’re right, of course. But I have ulterior motives for taking you at your word beyond just doing the right thing.”

“Which would be?”

The King’s eyes flashed molten silver, licks of bright red around the rims. He looked…hungry. 

“Why, coercion spoils the taste, of course.”