Chapter 1
Simon
Simon’s stomach aches behind cold ribs. Hopefully centuries of experience hide his nervous yearning. Blood is easy these days. Everything else is harder.
Leaning against the bar, he surveys the eager crowd. Most are human, dressed up in unsubtle black and red. Their warm bodies gyrate beneath ragged death metal shirts, studded leather jackets, or dark Victorian cosplay. Some lace their collars up to their chins. Others leave their throats vulnerable and bare.
“The game has changed,” Kimiko says from behind the bar. She must be thinking about the passage of time, too. A common affliction of their kind. “No more lurking in forests or stalking down alleyways. Sometimes I miss a good, romantic alleyway.”
Rude of her to interrupt his brooding. Simon fixes her with a withering glare. “An alleyway? Some of us have always had standards.”
Kimiko smirks, un-withered. “Some of us have always had fun.”
“How exhausting.” Simon twirls a finger in his light brown hair. “I’d rather just stand around looking pretty and let the prey approach me first.”
“Spoken like a tired old man,” Kimiko says, and Simon laughs, his melancholy lifting slightly. Maybe he should get out more often.
A stranger might think Simon was half Kimiko’s age. The perils of being gifted at twenty and dressing with the times. Slim and youthful, clad in black jeans and a ghost-gray t-shirt, Simon mostly looks like a college student who doesn’t get enough sun.
In reality, Kimiko is less than halfhisage. She’s an imposing figure in pastel goth, molded into voluptuous curves by her structured gown. Jet-black hair piles nearly high enough to brush the chandeliers.
Her dress is hardly practical for bartending, but her reflexes are perfect. Besides, two human employees are taking most of the orders. Kimiko is just dabbling—her true role here is as the owner of the Broken Cross. A nightclub, strict on the night part, for thirsty vampires and humans willing to slake that thirst.
Bottled blood is easy to acquire in the modern era, but it only staves off the thirst for so long. Eventually, the craving for living blood grows too powerful. Simon can survive on bottled blood, but he and his unique magic can’t thrive on it.
Not that Simon intends to light any fires tonight. His magic tends to make other vampires nervous.
Places like the Broken Cross have turned predation into recreation. Humans can’t walk through the door without a background check, because the wider human population still doesn’t know paranormals exist. No photos allowed.
Kimiko is one of the few fellow vampires Simon considers a friend. Sometimes, that friendship is inconvenient. “Speaking of old men, have you heard from—”
“No,” Simon snaps, and the tide of melancholy rises again.
Kimiko wisely changes the subject. “Are you drinking tonight?”
Simon shrugs, t-shirt slipping off his shoulder. It’s baggy enough to conceal anything underneath. “Do any of them fit my criteria?”
Kimiko knows every name that enters her club. “He’s looking at you right now.”
Plenty of people are looking at Simon, but spotting the human Kimiko means is easy. He stands alone across the room, and his gaze is steady. Almost friendly. Heavy shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard, probably early thirties. A leather jacket that doesn’t diminish the aura of affable accountant.
The human holds a glass of clear liquid, and his green wristband indicates his blood is clean. No drugs, no alcohol.
Simon’s criteria are simple. No first-timers—he refuses to be someone’s first bite. No repeats—he won’t feed from the same person twice, because familiarity breeds attachment. And no werewolves, because he isn’t fucking stupid.
Werewolves can bite back.
“His name is Lawrence Baird,” Kimiko says. “I drank from him three months ago. He’s very boring.”
“Perfect,” Simon says, and holds eye contact with Lawrence. One. Two. Three.
Lawrence sets aside his water glass and circles around the dance floor. Keeping a respectful distance, he asks, “Can I offeryou a drink?”
Simple. Direct. Exactly what Simon wants tonight. He should still set expectations. “I’ll take a drink. But if you expect anything more, you should find someone else.”
Lawrence glances behind Simon’s bare shoulder. “That’s all I want tonight.”
Kimiko gives a theatrical giggle. “Did I wear you out last time, dear human?”
