His grip eased on the hilt of the sword, and it clattered onto the wooden stage.
Time to end him.
My silken dress rustled the rubies as I spun around him and closed what remained of our distance.
So captured by my spell, he stumbled back and then fell to the floor.
See my power?
I lifted my top lip, exposed my fangs, and loomed over him.
The music swelled once more, as if matching the rhythm of our dangerously synchronized heartbeats.
My eyes locked onto Vaslav as he lay prone beneath me, the powerful allure of the Queen of Vampires reigning supreme.
You’re mine!
Every beat of the music was a drum in my ears, every note a pulse within my body, guiding me to my ultimate performance.
With deliberate slowness, I leaned in closer, feeling the heat radiate from his chest.
The stage lights dimmed to red and emitted an eerie glow over us.
My silken dress whispered as it moved, the rubies catching the light like droplets of fresh blood.
I knew without looking that every single person in the audience was completely enraptured, suspended between fear and even more, awe.
I raised my hands again.
The silver claws gleamed wickedly.
The violins screeched.
I knew what was coming next—the moment that would leave them gasping in their seats and debating with each other throughout intermission.
My fingers grazed his neck, the barest touch, but enough to make him shudder.
The orchestra dipped into a deep, resonant chord, creating a dark, foreboding atmosphere that filled the theater.
Vaslav’s eyes fluttered shut, his body yielding to the inevitable.
The time had come.
You’re going to be my little fuck slave.
Smirking, I moved with the grace of a predator, descending upon him with a flourish that was both elegant and terrifying.
My fangs, sharp and glistening, hovered just above his throat.
The audience was utterly silent.
The tension was at its peak.
And then, as I struck—placing my mouth on his neck—the magic happened.
A small, nearly invisible pouch hidden within my costume’s bodice burst, releasing a stream of vivid red liquid.
The fake blood—warm and thick—spurted from a concealed tube carefully attached to my lower lip, cascading over Vaslav’s neck in a gruesome display. It sprayed in a wide arc, splattering the stage and glistening under the lights.
