The sweat of dominance and sex bombarded Larissa’s senses, ripping her from her daydream as she snarled, glaring at the lavishly decorated room.

Her glared landed in the center of the room, housing a grand cage arena, bathed in the light of a solitary sunroof. The rest of the space was cloaked in darkness, revealing only the hungry eyes of vampires lounging in velvet-upholstered chairs. They sipped from goblets filled with crimson liquid, their laughter posh and their Victorian attire immaculate, as they keenly watched the two burly men trapped within the cage. The men grappled fiercely, muscles straining in a contest of power, and a resounding hiss filled the room as blood dribbled from one combatant’s lips.

She glanced at her companion’s nonchalant expression, wondering if she found this battle as enticing as the others, but then she spotted an infectious yawn amongst the crowed, and another checking a pocket watch, and realized this was not as entertaining as she thought.

A soft touch on her back snapped her out of her thoughts, and she found herself standing before a gold-encrusted door leading to a back room. The door clicked open, revealing an elegantly decorated space, with shelves lined with knick-knacks and items from around the world.

At the back of the room, a burgundy-colored settee was positioned. Resting upon it was a pale, handsome man with a flawless complexion and hair sleeked back and black as night. A beautiful woman was draped on his arm, wearing a tight red dress that contoured over her bust, and left nothing to the imagination. He wore a black collared robe, fully open to reveal his lean abs, and black buckled breeches paired with high, tailored boots.

Rings decorated his fingers, ranging from gold encrusted rubies to silver diamonds, and his midnight eyes glinted with a smirk.

“If it isn’t the queen of bounties!” A mellifluous chuckle escaped his lips. “Have you come to give up your head?”

With a twirl of her hand, Raven bowed with a smirk. “No, my dear Count Lucas, just to pay my respects, and ask for a favor.”

His brow furrowed, and his sly smirk twitched bigger as his gaze slithered onto Larissa.

A queasiness in her gut bubbled, and she shuffled her feet anxiously. She glanced at Raven, seeking reassurance, only to find her eyes fixed on him.

“Is that so?” The Count drawled. “But a favor owed is a favor due.” He pulled the woman closer in his arms, and bit violently into her neck.

The woman gasped, moaning and shaking until a few moments passed and she laid frozen still.

Larissa gulped, beads of sweat trickling down her brows as she sniffed the air.

The fresh stench of death lingered.

The Count tossed her to the side like a used rag, snatching a finely stitched red cloth, and dabbing the corner of his lips.

He beamed. “All jests, all jests!” He exclaimed, standing up, arms wide open. “Come, let me offer you a drink.” He moved his way to the side of the room, lined with a refined wooden table housing the finest pitcher of glass and blood. “Is O still your favorite?”

He poured deep red liquid into an old-fashioned glass and gestured for her to take it.

A tight smile formed on the vampire’s lush lips, and she sauntered over to accept.

Larissa lingered by the doorway, not well-versed in vampiric negotiations but sensing a thick tension coming off these two.

An image of Sylva popped into her mind, and she wished she was here. Unlike Larissa, Sylva had experience dealing with these sorts of interactions. Being a sub-shifter meant she was destined for the sidelines, her instincts shrieking at her that this was wrong, and that she should go find the first dominant to hide behind.

The Count dark eyes trailed to her, and he beckoned. “Come little girl, don’t be scared.” He showed off a sharp fang. “I don’t bite,” he chuckled. “Unless you want me too.”

His vile stench reeked of burnt ash and sex, defiling the precious perfume of marigolds in her hair, and causing her to snarl at him.

She took a controlled step forward, emboldened by her fear and ready to bite, but before she built the courage to pounce, Raven deftly snatched the offered glass from his hands.

She slammed it back onto the table, smirking with slanted eyes. “Eyes on me Count.” She mockingly pouted. “You know how jealous I can be.”

His eyes widened, his smirk faltering. “Apologizes then,” he slightly bowed. “I forget I’m so popular.”

Larissa exhaled a snort and took a brave step closer to Raven. She stood a little way behind her, using her to shield herself from the unpleasantness of the Count.

A loud scoff escaped Raven. “Anything but,” she gestured for him to lift his head. “But instead of a drink I’d prefer a boat.”

Lifting his head, he quirked a questioning brow at her. “You’ve grown very bold over the years since we last saw each other, Raven.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If I didn’t know better, you’re not asking for a favor.” His tone grew harsh. “But demanding one.”

A long sigh escaped Raven as she pretended to clean her nails. “Don’t be silly, I’m nothing but a hybrid mutt.” Her smile turned wicked. “How can I demand anything from the esteem Count?”

Another piece of the puzzle fitted of who this woman was, and Larissa started to see a picture, but it remained frustratingly unclear.

She nervously flitted her fingers, tapping them against the top of her palm, and spoke. “Count,” He winked, refusing to look at her. “What can a woman of her position demand?”

Raven cast her a sidelong glance, unperturbed, and remained still.

Silence ticked by, and he answered.

“A challenge, or better yet,” He gestured to Larissa, but his dark eyes never left fiery ones. “A duel!”

With a flamboyant twirl of his hand, he moved past them, halting in front of large, decorated curtains. “You see I pride myself on being a host, and unfortunately my guests have grown bored of my entertainment.” He flung the curtains aside, revealing the caged arena on the lower floor.

“And so have I,” He glared down at the two men still battling in the cage, caught in a deadlock. He shot a frustrated finger at them. “I mean look at them! There’s no story! There’s no struggle! Just two meatheads clashing!”

Facing Raven, he flashed crimson eyes and settled back for black. “It’s just dull. Life should be about the fight!” He pumped an excited fist in the air. “How they struggle, how they suffer, and how they fall!”

He pointed his excitement at Larissa, she flinched. “The adversity of living! A story we vampires will never have!” His eyes gleamed a cruel glint. “A story you will demonstrate over and over again.”

Anxiety swept Larissa like an angry wave as she connected the dots and blurted. “No, no, no! NO NO NO NO NO!” Eyes wide she took a desperate step forward, pleading. “Tell me you’re not considering this, tell him NO!”

Raven observed Larissa like a cat in a new home. She tilted her head slightly to the left, and a frustrated growl slipped from Larissa throat.

Raven shrugged, facing the Count. “And you call me bold Count, suggesting I’d trade my precious friend for a chance to hitch a ride on your ship?” She tapped her lips lazily and grinned like a cheshire cat. “Why not?”

Larissa’s shoulders deflated, pleading with a whisper. “Please?

Raven ignored her with a wave, asking. “And who shall be my fearless captain?” Blood drained from Larissa’s face, and she flitted her eyes for any means of escape.

“The captain of Saint Marie, you remember him, yes?” She slightly nodded, and she turned to face Larissa. “Dear it seems our time has reached a tragic end.” She stretched a hand for Larissa to take. “I doubt we’ll meet again.”

Larissa snapped her fangs at her and the vampire dodged it with a laugh.

Her wolf refused to believe her betrayal, and her ears flattened on her head, partially shifted into a wolf.

Frustrated whines escaped Larissa’s throat as she moved closer to the vampire. The vampire stood still, back to the Count, allowing Larissa to invade her space and nuzzle her chest. “Please don’t do this.”

Time passed, and within those moments Larissa didn’t feel a single heartbeat. She expected her plea to fall on deaf ears, until the vampire bristled, and a pulse.

The vampire’s fiery gaze widened, startled, and her eyes roamed Larissa, hungrily scouring for something long thought lost. Her eyes settled for Larissa crystal blues, and she cupped her cheek tenderly. She leaned in, and Larissa blinked, only to open them to black mist.

Raven vanished, leaving her cold and alone.

A mournful cry howled from her throat as her body continued to shift. Her claws jutted, and her fangs grew fierce as she faced the Count.

“OOOO~ how scary” He taunted, grinning with mad glee. “You and I are going to have such fun.”

She charged him with a fierce bark, but her world faded to black.

***

Larissa’s eyes snapped open, waking up in a dank cell in a dungeon that reeked of piss and dominance. She sprang to her feet pacing around her cell, scowling as she noticed a chamber pot and a dirty pillow in the corner for company.

She cursed herself, over and over, and hissed. “Why did I trust that stupid vampire, why did I--!” She jumped towards the bars that held her trapped within the cell, clutching them with a squeezed fist, and desperately trying to rip them apart.

They refused to budge, and she dropped her arms to her side, stumbling backwards until her back hit the wall.

She slid down, her bum hitting the floor, defeated.

“Sylva will save me,” she sniffled, cradling her legs for dear life. “She’ll realize I’m gone and—” Her words jumbled to a halt, and her eyes narrowed with rage.

How is Sylva going to save her? How is she even going to find her? Her scent trail leads to a den of sin, dominated by the stench of sex and blood. Even if she tracks her, how will they escape? Sylva, no matter how tough, cannot kill a horde of bloodsuckers. She’ll certainly try, but she’ll fail, and Larissa refused to let herself be the object of Sylva’s defeat.

A sweet scent broke her thoughts, and Larissa howled, enraged, and ripped the bun of marigolds from her hair, slamming them to the cold cellar floor. She got up, stomping and stomping until the flowers were scattered and destroyed.

“This is all her fault!” Larissa seethed, her silver hair now framing her cheeks, and tumbled onto her back.

That stupid enchanting vampire lured her into a false sense of security, leading her senses astray. Why did she trust her? Why did she believe she was safe? Her human instincts had been screaming at her since they met, warning her that she was too charming to be true, too perfect.

Her wolf huffed at her, berating her within her mind, and she let out a frustrated whine.

Even now, her wolf trusted the vampire. She grazed the marks left by the vampire’s fangs when she fed. It had been half a day, and still, the scars showed no signs of healing.

The clicking of a door caught Larissa’s attention. She moved towards the cold metal bars, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever made that noise in the darkness.

Sylva…? Raven?

Her ears picked up the sounds of grumbling, someone complaining about his shift, and then silence as his footsteps fell away.

Her expression twisted into frustration as she stomped to the corner of her cell, opposite of the chamber pot. She knelt, curling her hands and praying. “Great Mother, please save me and keep Sylva safe.” She hesitated. “And that stupid vampire too, I...”

She waited for the words, but only silence greeted her, and a single tear slithered down her cheek.