CHAPTER ONE
1 Year Ago
Sage
I'm curled up in a suffocating bathroom stall, trying to hype myself up to walk onto the dance floor of this overpriced L.A. nightclub. That's where our target is. And tonight, I'm the bait.
The bass thrums behind the door, pulsing through the floor. I stare at my reflection. Hair pinned up. Neck bare. Black dress with crimson ornaments tracing the hem like blood vines—provocative enough to draw a predator.
A few years ago, if someone had told me I would be hunting vampires for a living, I would have called them insane. Twice. Once for believing vampires existed. And again, for thinking I'd be the one hunting them.
Today, that means getting close without being bitten.
I take a breath. Turn. Step out.
Heat hits me first. Bodies grinding. Perfume, sweat, liquor. The club pulses like a living thing. But it's not enough to drown out the dull ache in my gut—the kind that has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with what I've become. I can almost hear the ground screaming beneath the concrete, nature's pain clawing at my spine.
I breathe in. Out. Just like Darlene taught me. It helps a little.
Frustrated, I clench my jaw. Everything feels too fast. I'm barely past training, and they've got me on vampire hunts. But at least I'm not alone.
I glance to the side. Darlene and Johnny play the part of tipsy lovers at a high-top table, eyes sharp despite the act. Backup for when I'll need them.
I turn back and freeze.
There he is.
Propped against a shadowed pillar, drink in hand, gaze skating over the crowd like he's choosing his next meal.
Kayden Darrow.
I know his file by heart. Born 1717. Turned at Culloden, 1746, at age twenty-nine. Over three centuries of bloodshed and savagery. The file lists atrocities. The truth is probably worse.
But the file didn't prepare me for him. Not the sharp jaw, not the careless slouch, not the way he owns the room with a glance. Photos couldn't capture the predator's hum in his presence, the sheer power of it.
He turns. Our eyes lock like he's been waiting for this.
Caught staring, I force a small, shy smile, then look away. Just long enough to make it look real. Like I'm flustered.
Maybe I am.
"Having a good time, sunshine?"
The deep, wicked drawl brushes my ear, and a shiver rips down my spine.
He's close. I didn't see him move, but he's here now, leaning in. His presence hits like a drug—thick, dark, and lethal.
That same predatory energy from across the room now wraps around me like smoke. Creatures of life, like me, are hardwired to fear this kind of darkness. It's not overwhelming, not if you're trained, but it's enough to sharpen every instinct.
I glance sideways with a slow, seductive smile. "I'd feel better if I were dancing."
His lips curve. "Then let me fix that."
The vampire's hand slides onto my waist, solid and possessive. The contact sparks a jolt through me, going straight to my core.
No matter how much I want to attribute it to mission nerves, I can't.
He leads me onto the dance floor, parting the crowd as if they know something dangerous is in their midst. Maybe they do, somewhere deep in their primal brains.
