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Most vampires hated the taste of blood at first, but not Sylvia. She reveled in it. She wanted it. She craved it. She had accepted her fate willingly. Still, there was one thing she didn’t have, one thing she sought above all else—immortality. While no longer mortal,her reign as queen of her empire could be usurped and short-lived. She suffered from the same vulnerability as all other vampires.

Her mind was focused on one thing and one thing only—acquiringThe Lovers’ Kiss—the spell she sought for lifetimes. So close, yet still so far. Too much time had passed—a week—since she had turned her new pet in the restaurant. They should have acted by now, attacked in some manner as retribution for her actions on the fateful night their negotiations escalated.

She swirled her glass and took another sip. The nectar of her life tickled her senses. Her fingers danced on the railing, playing an invisible piano as she followed along to the music being played behind her. She finished her glass and turned around, leaning against the rail.

Sebastian sat at the player piano, playing his favorite song “Moonlight Sonata.” The keys flourished as he entered the third movement. The song picked up tempo, each key struck with purpose and passion. The song built to its thrilling finish, and with a few dynamic chord strikes, it was over. He turned and smiled at Sylvia.

“I never grow tired of hearing you play, my love,” Sylvia said.

“I only play it for you. You’re the light of my night and should be serenaded with song,” he replied.

Sebastian grabbed the lid and gracefully closed it over the keys. The lid landed without a sound. He locked eyes with Sylvia.

There was a pause. Their game began again.

Sylvia stood and broke eye contact with Sebastian. “I can’t play tonight.”

“Something troubling you, my queen?”

She set the glass down on an end table and took her seat in the crimson, high-back chair. She nestled into the corner of the chair so she could look at Sebastian. She crossed her leg and continued to play her invisible keyboard on her knee. “Do you think it’s odd nothing has happened?”

“I’m sure they’re waiting for us to make the next move.”

“It’s been a week. They haven’t done anything. Surely, they would have slipped up by now.”

“Maybe their move is to not make a move. Maybe they’re waiting for us to mess up.”

“Still . . . I don’t like it.”

Sebastian stood and sauntered toward Sylvia. He straightened his vest and tugged a few times on his necktie. He towered over her, glaring down. She loved him looming over her. For all her drive and ambition—her dominance and control—she loved to surrender herself to him. It was her release. Her ecstasy. Her pleasure.

Her heart fluttered at the sharp inhale of breath in the still moments of silence.

Loud crashing noises broke the silence below. Sylvia snarled, ready to spring up to yell at those toiling away below. Sylvia hated noise. She couldn’t stand it. After her vampiric transformation, loud noises bombarded her senses, crushing her head by a cacophony of sound.

Sebastian placed a hand on her shoulder, inviting her to sit back down. “I’ve got this,” he said before moving to the railing. He placed both hands on it and leaned over. “If there is one more sound—one more noise—I’ll come down there and rip off your heads. Is that understood?”

Sylvia shifted in her chair, never taking her eyes off Sebastian. She wanted him. She craved him. She needed him. She loved silence, but she loved Sebastian more.

He returned. “I’m sorry, my love. It won’t happen again.”

She smiled and gazed up into his dark brown eyes. Even on the dimly lit balcony, she could always lose herself deep in his eyes. Sylvia bit a portion of her lip, leaving a fang exposed. She wanted him to see her fang—the same fang that transformed him into a vampire many years ago.

His chiseled, stoic face glared back. A small corner of his lips betrayed him and arched up into a smile. Maybe she did want to play their game after all.

“What’s our next move?” Sebastian said.

“I should use his blood to enthrall him to bring the spell to us,” Sylvia suggested.

“Do you think it’s wise? We have enough for what—one, maybe two attempts at best. What if she stops him? Then we lose our leverage.”

“We should force them out,” Sylvia responded. “But how?”

Sebastian paused. He drew his hand to his chin and lips.

After a moment, he asked, “What if we only have to force her out? We could draw her to the Raskins’ home, leaving him inside.”

Sylvia glanced away, lost in thought as the idea sparked new ones in her mind. “Yes. It could work. You could draw her out. Then I only need to use a small amount of his blood to enthrall him.”