Chapter 1
8 YEARS AGO
Iwasn’t the smartest witch in my coven, or the most gifted, but I was, however, the most curious.
But as I stand beneath the bright, glowing red neon light, I wonder if this peculiar interest of mine might just be my demise.
My coven wasn’t receptive to my incongruous thoughts, so I learned to keep them to myself. I hid folklore books under my bed as a teen, hoping my mother and grandmother would never find them. If they did, I would’ve had to face the High Priestess for questioning anything outside of coven life. In fact, if the High Priestess knew what I was up to, she’d probably threaten to burn me at the stake or do something even more drastic to teach me a lesson.
Witches are supposed to be happy with the platonic relationships within our coven, not intermingle with other supernaturals, we merely tolerate ordinary unmagical beings. If we want to bear a child, we make use of a human man, but nothing beyond procreation.
I hate it.
As much as I love being a witch, I want more.
I want someone who is only mine.
While my fellow witches, the women I walk through this life with, love me wholly, I yearn for a romantic attachment. My best friends, Violet and Iris, would follow me to the end of the world, but I’m not sure if they would follow mehere.
A vampire bar is the last place a witch should be, especially one from the Celestial Coven. This isn’t a place I should be looking for a romantic connection, far from it, yet here I am, standing in line to enter. I drove three parishes over just to come to this particular bar, mostly so no one in my coven would find out about my little foray into the dark. I don’t know how to explain why this particular type of darkness calls to me.
Curiosity may just kill the witch, but at least it will be one hell of a story.
Heels click behind me, and I turn. A tall, raven-haired woman who doesn’t look a day over twenty looks me up and down. She’s wearing a sleek, sophisticated black dress. Meanwhile, I’m wearing the strawberry peasant dress that pushes up my over abundant chest that Violet bought me for my birthday.
Her smile is wicked, just a hint of fang pressing against her full bottom lip as she tilts her head at me.
“Come, you’ll be my plus one,” she says, not even waiting for an answer as she grabs my wrist, her perfectly manicured red nails slightly digging into my skin.
I should decide right then and there that I’m in danger, that this isn’t where I should be. Yet, the idea of uncertainty, of doing something I shouldn’t, thrills me even more.
She tugs me in front of the bouncer. “She’s with me,” she says easily.
“ID,” the man says. He’s huge, his muscles fighting against his black shirt as I pull my ID out of my purse and hand it to him.He shakes his head and hands it back as the strange woman pulls me through the doors.
“Um. Hi? I’m Ember. What’s your name?” I ask her. She laughs too.
Yup. It’s official. Stupidest fucking witch of a generation. These vampires are going to drain me of every drop, and I’m the dumb bitch who willingly served myself up as a feast.
“Samantha, and I’m taking you to meet my dad.”
I blink, trying to both capture her words and all the surrounding chaos of the bar.
A game of pool is happening on the left of me so fast it takes me a moment to realize that vampires are actually playing the game. There’s no way to ignore the blood bags hanging behind the bar top being poured into martini glasses for well-dressed vampires to drink. I swallow thickly, whispering an incantation for safety under my breath.
Humans are here too, most of them in a daze, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. They all look happy, but like they aren’t completely coherent with their glazed stares.
“Your dad?” I ask, wondering just exactly who her father is and why we need to be introduced.
She snorts. “Well, my father, in the sense that he made me what I am. Though, he really fucking hates when I call him that, so obviously, I do it as often as I can.”
She continues dragging me through the bar; I get a few interested glances my way, but no one touches me or the woman ushering me to my very likely death. We reach a dark corridor and she drops my wrist.
“You know, maybe this was a mistake, I should probably?—”
Before I can finish my exit strategy, she flings the door open. Multiple men in suits turn to look at her so unearthly fast I think I imagine it. At least I know one thing from all the fairytales I’ve read is true. Vampires are indeed faster than a blink of an eye. Iwonder what else is true and what’s fiction when it comes to the most infamous supernatural beings in the world.
The man behind the desk is the first to speak. “Samantha, darling, what did I tell you about knocking?” he says, a smile on his face, but there’s clear irritation there.
