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The number of photos we were about to take was excessive, but if Vi liked the little vintage film strips as much as she said she did, it’d be worth it.

“What would you want to do—if you weren’t running the club, I mean?” she asked, leaning in close for the first photo, the flash half-blinding.

I slid my arm around her waist, tucking her firmly against my side as I talked through my teeth, bared in more of a grimace than a smile.

Flash.

“I’ve never really thought about it,” I admitted. “When Cherie found me, I was way too much of a monster to have a normal job. I like security, though… and managing the bar, taking care of my coven, that’s a good enough career.”

Her nose scrunched, our reflections staring back at us on the little screen as the machine flashed again.

“Hey, Dana… Can I ask you something?”

“I’m fairly certain you will regardless of permission,” I said with a shrug, pulling my hand up for a peace sign. “Shoot.”

“When was the last time that you did something because you wanted to? Because it felt good?”

I looked at Vi in the bluish-white light, carefully masking my surprise. With her round eyes and pale skin, the overexposure of the too-bright enclosed space made her look a bit like a doll, and the stubborn set of her pink lips drew me in with every second that went by.

When was the last time that you did something becauseyouwanted to?

The reality was… disappointing, if not a little bit sad.

Before Cherie had gotten sick.

Everything from then on had been coloured by my need to take care of her, to take care of my family. To help them cope with the grief that threatened to swallow us up like a sinkhole.

To handle Garrett’s greed, because as long as we were profitable, as long as we held up our end of the bargain, he’d leave us alone. But how long could we survive like that? And how long until he asked for something more?

Something I couldn’t give him?

I carried that immense pressure, heavy as an anchor, everywhere I went.

The weight I could manage, but the rest of my family taking for granted my efforts as I stepped into the hole Cherie had left in our family, doing my best to fill the gaps not only at O but at home too—that was a little tougher.

“Dana?” Vi asked, her hand hesitantly moving to touch my cheek, barely a graze of her fingers along my skin, but still enough to draw a line of fire in my belly.

How long had I ignored my own wants and wishes—my grief—for the benefit of my family?

How long would I continue to deny myself the pleasures I watched them so easily enjoy?

And why? So that I could focus on work? On keeping it together? Making sure the cracks in my surface were spackled tightly shut and painted over, like the pain had never existed to begin with?

And what did I have to show for my efforts?

Some cunt with no claim to my club extorting me for thousands of dollars?

My wife buried and gone.

A chasm of sadness I didn’t know how to talk about, much less begin to sift through.

Vi’s thumb was still stroking my cheek as the machine flashed again and again. Her dark eyes searched mine, waiting for an answer to a question I was too embarrassed to answer. Too furious to think the whole way through.

When will it be my turn to chase my happiness? When will it be enough?

Something inside me boiled over, months of loneliness and careful deprivation culminating in a feral clash of my mouth against hers.Hardly a kiss, more a claiming as my fangs pressed against her lips clumsily in my hunger.

The answer to her question is… now.