It was supposed to be deluxe night. The full Saya experience. Glitter in all the right places. Smudged kohl. Perfumed thighs. I'd even buffed my damn elbows.
The Archduke—His Pallid Grace, Lord Severin the Damp or whatever—was already half undone before I even finished my little fan dance. Man was eager. Moaning and mumbling and grabbing at me like a starving poet clutching his last metaphor.
The moonlight was spilling through the silk curtains, hot and silver. Odd. It had been a crescent last night. Weird how fast these things turn when you're naked.
He pulled me down onto that ridiculous bed—lace sheets, goose feathers, gold-trimmed everything. His hands were everywhere. He was panting like a noble on his fourth staircase of the day. And me? I was giggling. Purring. Putting in the effort.
I mean, sure, he was cold. But rich people are always cold. Too much marble and no soul.
Then he started kissing my neck.
Like really kissing it.
And not in the nice nibbley way either. No, this was different. Slower. Hungrier.
And then—teeth.
Sharp ones.
"Oh no," I breathed.
He growled something against my skin.
Click.
That was not human. That was not romantic. That was fangs.
I screeched.
"OH NO YOU DON'T!"
Elbowed him in the chin—hard. He reeled back, and I saw them. The fangs. White, sharp, elegant. Leech-fucker-chic.
"You leech!" I shrieked, kicking him square in the embroidered loincloth. "You blood-sucking corpse aristocrat!"
He snarled, lunged. I grabbed the nearest gilded lamp and hurled it at his face.
He ducked, hissing.
I didn't wait to see the next act.
I bolted.
Threw open the doors, dashed out, and slammed them behind me. Latched it. Jammed the ceremonial staff of House Severin through the handles for good measure.
Then I ran.
Barefoot, tits bouncing, sprinting through palace corridors. Past stunned guards. Past eunuchs who dropped trays of fruit. Past some wife whose name I never learned.
"He has FANGS!" I shouted.
And nobody moved. Nobody flinched.
I ran harder.
Because suddenly I knew.
He wasn't the only one.
I kicked Loma's chamber door open so hard it bounced off the wall and knocked over a decorative urn full of peacock feathers and lies.
"LOMA!" I yelled, breathless, wild-eyed, still half-naked and full of adrenaline. "Get your crap together! He's a vampire!"
She was reclined on a pile of embroidered pillows like some smug little goddess of delusion, wearing a sheer nightgown and a face full of bored contempt.
She blinked at me slowly. "Saya. Seriously?"
I slammed the door behind me, bolted it, and staggered forward.
"I'm not joking," I panted. "Fangs. Neck. He tried to drink me. Like I was a goblet of slutty wine!"
Loma rolled her eyes and picked up a fig.
"Oh gods. You're jealous."
I blinked. "What—what?!"
"You are so predictable. He spends a night with someone else, and suddenly you're inventing vampire conspiracies."
"I saw the fangs!"
"Maybe he has… a kink." She bit into the fig with an audible squish. "Maybe he likes a little nibble. You're always saying you want men to be more passionate."
"He tried to puncture my artery, not my feelings!"
Loma raised an eyebrow. "And yet you ran into my room. Not the guards. Not the matrons. Not the wives. Me."
"Because you're the only one here not already undead or in heat!"
She threw the fig core at me. Missed by a mile.
"You are so dramatic."
"Oh, sorry," I snapped, pacing now. "Didn't realize screaming vampire dick attack was being over the top. Must've been the glitter. Maybe I hallucinated the teeth digging into my neck while Lord Leech tried to get off on my bloodstream."
She flopped onto her back with a groan.
"You are insane."
I stopped pacing. Looked down at her.
And whispered, "You didn't see his eyes."
That got her attention. Just a flicker. Just a twitch.
But she masked it with a sigh. "I'll talk to him in the morning."
"In the morning he'll be sleeping upside down in a crypt!"
She waved a hand dismissively. "Go take a bath. You're hysterical."
I stared at her. The silk. The smugness. The utter lack of survival instinct.
"Fine," I said. "Don't believe me."
I turned to the window, unlatched it, and threw it open.
"But when he comes for you tonight, Loma…" I glanced back. "Try not to moan too loud when he bites. Some of us are light sleepers."
And with that, I climbed onto the ledge.
Loma sat up. "Where are you going?!"
"Somewhere with garlic and less denial," I hissed, and dropped out of sight.