I met Sariah shortly after I moved here, almost five years ago. We were both taking the same basic self-defense training class for females that an old, retired mercenary dame taught that spring. She was high-spirited and relentless in befriending me. It took months for her to crack my shields, and I will never forget how she did not give up on my reclusive self, showing kindness and determination. She introduced me to The Twinkling Meadow, encouraged me to explore my passions, and reluctantly broke me out of my shell.
“Just one of my nightmares again,” I say. I sigh as I grab a silken dark blue dress, throwing the towel on the bed before I let the piece of clothing slide down my body. It’s one of my better dresses, and I revel in the sweet caress of silk on skin, even though it’s one of the cheaper versions of the material, and not entirely appropriate for the chilly weather. But I’m a sucker for feeling pretty, especially when I was forced for such a long time to be the ugly duckling to my sister’s delight.
I grab my simple dagger from under the pillow and proceed to sheath it in the leather strap I tied on my thigh.
Other girls feel naked without makeup or jewelry. I can’t go anywhere without my dagger. It’s my good luck charm, my number one crutch, and the only thing capable of hindering my sister if she ever comes looking for me.
“How many times have I told you? A warm, thrusting body does wonders for the soul!” Sariah chirps happily before grabbing my hand and dragging me through the crammed living area we share. “Let’s go! We need plenty of time to get ready before tonight’s spectacle. We are the entertainment after all!”
I crack a slight smile as we bypass a worn-out sofa, and grab myself a shawl from the wooden hanger by the door, before exiting our modest abode. The swanky cabaret where we work is one of the major attractions of Annerough. Every night, we dance our hearts away in front of all sorts of males that would throw themselves on their Godsdamned knees in front of us, begging for a chance to worship the ground we walk upon. It’s a powerful, intoxicating feeling.
The pay is not at all spectacular, hence our living conditions, but it gives me purpose and it gives me freedom.
“That we are indeed!” I say, as we lose ourselves in the hustle and bustle of Annerough.
CHAPTER 2
Aimee
SummerinAnneroughisbrisk at best, freezing at worst. Walking the cobbled streets of the border town towards The Twinkling Meadow, I pull the ends of my woolen shawl together, cursing myself for not getting something warmer instead. I should know better after almost five years of living here. The pastel-painted houses and gilded storefronts of the town’s center resemble the enchanted Fae capital, but we couldn’t be further from it. That’s why I chose this exact spot on the map to hide away from my family.
As a border town with the Kingdom of Wrahta, Annerough stands at the northernmost point of the Fae lands, borrowing the cold weather of the vampire territory. We still have the four seasons. They are just more frigid-prone than I would like.
I was born in Ibrok, from a wealthy noble Fae family, the Vaureghain’s, and spent all my younger years in Vroni, the quaint town just outside of the capital, where all the well-established families of the court would spend their summers, and where they would send their children to be raised by handmaidens, governesses and fancy tutors. Vroni was, by all accounts, the playground of the future rich Fae snobs surrounding the Royal Family. The Fae said it was an idyllic town for the wealthy and privileged, with sweet-scented springs and ripe, careless summers. A place for the young Fae elite to blossom and grow into the delicate ladies and brave men of tomorrow, a place filled with childish love and promises.
I enjoyed the balmy weather there. The rest, however, was my own fucking hell.
“Imiryion to Aimee… You’re doing that thing again,” Sariah says, bumping my hip while we walk side by side. She’s wearing a sky blue woolen cape, matching the same shade of her dress, and I curse her foresight for dressing according to the weather outside.
“What thing?” I pretend to frown at her, as if I don’t know what she’s talking about. But I do. She always complains I get too lost in my head. Honestly, with a past like mine, who wouldn’t?
“Oh, you know very well what I’m on about, girl. Youreallyneed to get out of your head and into some hunk’s bed tonight.”
It’s always the same tune with her. The rambunctious female proclaims that intercourse is the undisputed cure for all ailments, especially mine. I wish it were that simple. I’d love to find a handsome male to sweep me off my feet, muting all the errant thoughts away once and for all. Pleasure is just a temporary fix. I enjoy it occasionally to take the edge off. Nothing else.
“For you, Sariah, I will do my best.”
Her bubbly personality is infectious, and that is my main reason for befriending her. Having someone so carefree and joyful by my side helps a little with keeping the anxiety at bay.Sometimes, I wish I could confide in her for real, sharing what plagues my conscious and subconscious mind. The guilt and shame are rooted deep inside my chest, though, and shedding light on my traumatic past feels like a death sentence. I don’t want her compassion, just her easygoing banter.
A stone-hard shoulder bumps into me out of nowhere, and I recoil just a little too fast.
“Watch where you’re going,” a gruff voice comes from the stranger.
“So sorry, sir!” I say, glimpsing his blood-red eyes and long brown braids falling past his shoulders, before he gets lost in the crowd. A vampire. I shudder before turning back to Sariah, who watches his retreating form with a glint in her eyes.
“Now that was a fine-ass specimen!” Sariah whispers.
“You know I’m not into vamps. They make my skin crawl. They are just ruthless killing machines, devoid of any sentiment or ethical principles. A bloody blight on this realm.” We’ve had this conversation a million times by now, but while I’m weary of the fanged creatures, she finds them thrilling.
In Annerough, it’s a common sight to see vampires walking around. While they might not venture into the heart of our kingdom, the border town welcomes them with open arms, thriving from the trading and pleasure they seek here.
The peace treaty signed between the Fae and the vampires over three hundred years ago ensures there is supposedly no bad blood between our nations. They don’t kill Faes anymore, and in return, we don’t hunt them either.
There are Fae folk willing to be bitten and fed on, for the right price. Others are willing to mingle in the sheets with these dark creatures. The humans, on the other hand, are fair game. That’s why so many of them have fled to Reweroth. Plenty of humans remain in the Fae lands, getting dragged back to Wrahta and slaughtered by vampires.
“Ruthless or not, they are a fucking sight for sore eyes. And you can’t even begin to imagine what their particular skill sets can do in the bedroom. The lightning fast speed…the way they can smell your arousal and always know what buttons to push to get you off…Sweet Reythia, I would kill to have such a striking vampire, like the one that just passed by us, at my beck and call.” She cranes her neck to search for the cursed creature among the throngs of people. “The wicked fun we could have.”
I frown at the mention of the Goddess of love and lust. “Don’t invoke the fucking Gods when it comes to a meaningless tryst with a vampire, Sariah. Spiteful as they are, they might just grant your wish, only for you to end up dead in a back alley, like a discarded blood bag.”
