Hesitating only for a second, I stepped inside. The smell of mothballs filled my nostrils.

I peered through the hole.

There was Blake.

He must have just entered the room. I watched as he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it casually over a chair. He wore a black linen shirt underneath, open at the collar. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the black tattoos that coiled up his muscular forearms.

Every line of his body seemed cut with precision. I found myself holding my breath as I watched him. Why did the bad ones have to look so good?

Blake raised a hand to his face and pushed back a lock of pale blond hair, then glanced across the room.

My heart caught in my throat.

On the bed, a blightborn girl lounged against the headboard. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders. Scantily clad in a short little dress of red lace, her golden-brown skin caught the candlelight perfectly.

She was beautiful. She was also watching Blake with unconcealed admiration, her gaze roaming over him as if he were a prize.

Her lips curled into a seductive smile as he strolled towards the bed.

A shiver went down my spine. Was I really going to watch this?

Yes. Yes, I fucking was.

My heart pounded in my chest as Blake darted forward in a sudden movement and lowered his head towards the blightborn girl’s neck.

The girl’s head jerked back, her breath coming out in a gasp, as Blake’s fangs sank into her skin.

It should have been a grisly scene. This puncture of flesh, the slow trickle of blood.

And yet, it was anything but.

The blightborn girl wasn’t writhing in pain. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut, as she tilted her head back a little more to grant Blake better access. Her body arched towards him, her hands reaching out to clutch the sleeves of his shirt, as if she craved more of the sensation he was giving her.

My stomach twisted, torn between disgust and the embarrassing heat rising between my thighs.

Watching Blake feed was unsettlingly intimate. His hands gripped the girl’s waist, firm but not possessive, holding her steady as he drank.

Yet there was a coldness to his actions, as though his mind was detached from the ritual. He didn’t caress her, didn’t embrace her. He simply took what he needed.

At least, that was what I told myself as the girl’s soft erotic moans filled the room.

Blake seemed unbothered by her reactions. He must have been used to them. His only interest seemed to be in the blood he was taking.

I tracked the motion of his throat as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful from the girl’s limp body.

I could have looked away at any time. Yet I didn’t.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Blake stepped back.

His chest was heaving. His mouth was smeared with a trace of the girl’s blood.

I felt a strange anger fill up inside me as I looked at the red wetness on his lips. As if the girl had marked him in some way she had no right to.

Blake’s fangs shone briefly in the light, before retracting. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, clearing away the drops of blood.

The girl sat up on the bed, her eyes half-lidded, her skin flushed. She pouted.  “Is that really all you want from me?”

Blake didn’t answer. His face was impassive as he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a leather pouch. He placed it on the bedside table and the girl grabbed for it, spilling the contents onto the coverlet.

She huffed softly, her fingers brushing over the gold coins. “It's too much,” she muttered, sounding sulky. “You always overpay.”

She slid off the bed and moved towards him, her fingers reaching for the collar of his shirt.

I felt a knot in my stomach. She wanted him. She wanted more from him. Had he used thrallweave on her? Enchanted her somehow? I didn’t think he’d needed to. She’d clearly wanted this.

But then, she’d been raised from birth to idolize people like Blake, I reminded myself. To see them as purer than she was, better than she was. Of course, she wanted him.

Still, I hoped he’d reject her.

I needn’t have worried. With a frown, he brushed her hands away.

“Maybe the next time you come to call, I won’t be here,” she said petulantly. “Or maybe I’ll be with someone else. Some other highblood man. It would serve you right. What would you do then?”

“I'd pay the next girl,” Blake said coolly, picking up his jacket from the chair and shrugging it back on.

I choked back a laugh. He was one cold bastard. I should have pitied the girl. But I didn’t. There was something about the possessiveness she was showing towards Blake that I didn’t like.

I watched the jacket slide over his shoulders. He was leaving. I felt a flicker of smugness rise inside me.

Smug, that is, until a cold hand clapped firmly over my mouth.

I was yanked out of the wardrobe. A man’s hand wrapped around my waist.

“Well, well,” a low voice growled in my ear. “What have we here? Does someone like to watch?”

My heart raced, breath ragged against the highblood’s palm.

“A new girl,” the man muttered. “I’ve drunk my fill tonight, but I always like a new girl.”

I felt my hood being pulled down. The ribbon was wrenched from my hair. My curls cascaded down around my shoulders.

There was a sudden silence as the man took in my appearance.

Then I felt fingers move through my hair. I tried to yank my head away but he held tight.

“What have we here?” the man murmured. “Such pretty hair.” He sniffed at it. “You even smell different. Unique. I’ve never tasted one like you before.”

Panic flared inside me at the thought of this man putting his teeth into me. I twisted, jerking free of his grip, and leaned down, pulling Coregon’s dagger from my boot.

I spun around, my hand moving fast, and drove the blade deep into the closest part of him I could get to–his thigh.

The man howled in pain and staggered backward, knocking over a wooden chair.

I looked him over quickly. I’d half-expected to see the man I’d run into back in the corridor. But this was a different highblood. He wore a black domino mask over his eyes and a crimson cloak. There was blood all around his lips–blood he hadn’t bothered wiping away, as if he liked looking like that.

I glanced at his hands. They were covered in blood, too. My heart sped up. This man had done more than simply feed tonight.

And he wasn’t done with me yet. Rallying with more speed than any mortal, his face contorted in fury and in a flash, he was on me again, seizing my wrist and pulling my arm back with a painful twist.

I cried out in agony, but didn’t drop the dagger. My eyes darted around the room in desperation.

There. On the floor. The fluffin was lying motionless. The highblood must have kicked him earlier. The sight filled me with a sudden, blinding rage.

Stab him again, my mother demanded. Use the knife. Hurry. He’s not going to let you out of this room, no matter what he might claim.

But I couldn’t fight him off, no matter how I twisted. He was too strong.

I remembered something I had learned in my History of Sangratha class. That highbloods grew stronger with age. Before now, I’d only fought against highbloods my age–Visha, Blake. I might have been close to a match for them...but I wasn’t one for this man.

“I should bring you to the Sanctum,” he muttered as he fought me. “Turn you in. You’ve been hiding from them, haven’t you? Naughty, naughty. You’re special. That hair. But you smell so good. I think I’ll keep you for myself. Will you scream like my other girls? I don’t like my girls damaged. Not until I’m ready to do it myself. Drop the knife, little girl. Don’t make me break your fucking wrist now, girly.”

He was close to it. I could feel my bones coming close to the snapping point. My eyes were burning with pain.