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Ophelia - Seven Years Ago

I never should have come to this club.

Music pounds and bodies sway on the tightly packed dance floor. Dim red sconces on silk-draped walls cast shifting shadows on cocktail dresses and suits that cost more than my rent.

From where I sit at the bar, I’ve spent the last hour being jostled and nudged aside as patrons three-deep attempt to flag down the bartenders for a drink, either of the alcoholic or sanguinary variety.

I could be home right now.

I could be tucked into bed nursing a glass of wine and my bruised pride instead of sitting here watching vampires and humans and paranormals of a dozen different varieties size each other up and pair off in shadowed corners.

On any other night, I’d be participating rather than watching. I’d be in the midst of all those swaying bodies, or tucked away in an alcove speaking softly to some tall, handsome vampire with his bespoke suit and gleaming fangs, more than eager to…

I stop the thoughts right there.

I have no business being here. Not tonight.

I wouldn’t have bothered coming if Cleo didn’t invite me, and even though she’s my reason for being here, my sister is nowhere to be found. She wandered off half an hour ago to talk to a tall, beautiful redhead, and I haven’t seen her since.

Friday night at the Raven has become a routine for my half-vamp sister and me. A ritual, to crowd into the tiny bathroom of the apartment we share and get ready for the night, music blaring and makeup scattered across the counter. A jumble of curling irons and bobby pins and two glasses of sparkling rosé kept topped-off as the promise of the evening glimmers before us.

But lately, Cleo’s been distracted. I have a sneaking suspicion it’s got something to do with the redhead, and an even stronger inkling I’ve seen the last of her for the evening.

Which… fine.

Good for Cleo.

I’m happy she’s found someone, but that doesn’t mean I want to sit alone at the bar and wait for her to remember I’m here.

I especially don’t want to be here when I can’t help but look over my shoulder every other minute, nerves on edge, hoping I don’t spot a huge, hulking, handsome vampire in the crowd. Marcus is also a regular at the Raven, and the very last thing I want is to run into him after everything that…

Nope.

Not thinking about that.

Not tonight.

Again making myself stop my spiral of self-pity, I down the last of my drink and pull my phone from my tiny beaded clutch. I’ll send Cleo a text and let her know I’m out of here so she doesn’t worry whenever she remembers to look for me.

If I’m calculating it right, I can be home in less than thirty minutes, makeup off and shower done in forty-five, pajamas on and—

“So we meet again, sweet Ophelia.”

A shiver races down my spine at the sound of a warm, softly accented voice behind me.

I turn on my barstool to face the vampire it belongs to, and that shiver turns into a full-body flush.

“Casimir.”

Not the world’s greatest opening line, but it’s all I can manage as I’m pinned in place by a teasing crimson gaze. It’s as cool as I can be as he leans in close so I can hear him over the din, as I try to mask the hitch in my breath and hope like hell my cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.

“Don’t tell me,” Casimir murmurs.

“Tell you what?”

“That you’re here alone. There are very few unforgivable sins in this world, but if some unfortunate creature decided to stand you up, that would certainly be one.”