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Slipping my phone into my pocket and grabbing my sketchbook, I leave my room and hope I'll be able to find my way back. I keep track of where I'm going by drawing a map as I go. Most of the rooms I try are just guest suites or bedrooms, and I worry I will come across someone's lived in quarters but I always knock first, and so far they've all been empty.

The place is huge, and I use more and more pages of my sketchbook to map it, making notes when I find bedrooms, bathrooms, random meeting rooms, storage rooms. I'm sticking to upstairs at the moment, but I know there will be so much more to explore downstairs. The dark, windowless halls are lit by torches on the walls, though they are not flames but rather some kind of strange bulb. At least, I assume it's a bulb. There's no actual evidence of one. Just a ball of pale blue light that is cool rather than warm.

There's a flurry of activity happening near one suite. It sounds like several people are working, but when I glance in, I see only Matilda. "Is someone else coming?" I ask, since she is clearly preparing this suite for someone who doesn't already live here.

"He arrives tomorrow. We must prepare." She is distracted and looks around as if trying to find help.

"Who's he?"

"No time to explain. We'll talk later, dear." She rushes off, so I keep exploring, turning corners, studying portraits and paintings that line the walls, until I find myself in a hall that has no doors or windows, though it's very long. At the very end is one red door, intricately carved. I reach to turn the knob, forgetting my own rule about knocking, when a voice barks at me.

"Do not open that door! This wing isn't meant for you." I turn to face Liam, and his eyes are alight with simmering rage. Dude has issues.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to get my bearings here. What's in the room?" I ask.

"None of your business."

"Is it like your sex dungeon or something? The red room of pain?" I laugh, but he doesn't. Again. Tough crowd.

"That would be a different red door," another voice chimes in. Derek arrives, with Sebastian and Elijah following. "It seems our meeting has started without us."

"She has no business being here," Liam says harshly. "This is a mistake. She could ruin everything. She's a mundane."

"I've heard that twice. Mundane. What does that mean?"

Derek sighs. "We have to tell her sometime. It's not like we can keep this a secret for long. Not with him coming tomorrow."

Sebastian crosses his arms over his chest but says nothing.

Elijah nods. "The decision is made, now we must make the best of it."

Liam looks furious, but says nothing as Derek pulls a key out of his pocket and opens the door. "There's something you should know about us, and this company, Eve." He steps into the room, and I can't help but stare.

"Do you also run a funeral parlor?" I ask, because there are four beautiful coffins side by side in the darkened and windowless room. "Or this really is your sex room and y'all are super kinky? I mean, I'm not judging, to each their own, but I don't really think I need to know about this part of your life. We can have some secrets, don't you think?"

Sebastian laughs, but it's more of a disappointed sound as he shakes his head. "You don't get it, Eve. This isn't a funeral parlor. We weren't drinking wine at your job interview, and there's a reason we only work at night."

"Are you… ?" I swallow, thinking through the ramifications of it all. Realization finally sets in, but it's a hard pill to swallow. "Okay, I get it. You're really deep into the lifestyle. I mean clearly, solidly committed. Structuring your law firm around it is pretty intense, but it's cool. I've met some people with vampire and bite kinks. None who took it quite this far, but enough that I know it's pretty serious for some. Is this why you need me? Because you want to stick to your role? No going out in daylight and all that? I'm down with going along, to an extent. I don't want to, like, participate though. If you catch my drift." I show my teeth. "No bitey bitey on me and we're all good."

Sebastian throws his hands in the air and turns away, sighing. Elijah presses his lips together, and Derek frowns.

But not Liam. He clenches his fist, and what happens next is too fast for me to do anything to prevent.

Before I realize what's happening, my body slams into the wall, knocking the breath out of my lungs, and Liam is pressed against me, his rock-hard form crushing my breasts, his hands gripping my wrists tightly, pushing them over my head. A guttural growl, inhumane in its sound, emanates from him, and I see his teeth are elongated far beyond what's normal or natural. Then his mouth is at my neck.

I feel pain, fire burning in me, through me, as his teeth sink into my flesh, then a kind of strange bliss washes over me, even as fear leeches into me, trying to find purchase in all the confusion.

There's no time for panic to take me. My heart slows as my blood is drained, my head spins, and my body feels disconnected from my mind, unable to support itself. Liam is holding me up at this point. If he pulls away, I will crumple to the ground, a pale, bloodless ghost.

My thoughts flicker to random moments in my life. My last fight with Jerry. My last hug from my father. My last long talk with my brother. So many lasts. We seldom know what moment will be the last of something. We celebrate the firsts, but we don't think of the lasts. They are the memories that stick when all else is gone. Those final footprints in the snow, covering all others. The last words, last laughs, last tears. It's only in hindsight that we see how precious those moments were.

I close my eyes and give into this moment. Savoring it. Savoring my life, what little is left. Will I see my brother soon? My parents? That won't be so bad. Death is the ultimate last and first, all at once. It encompasses it all.

Someone shouts, and Liam is pulled away amidst argument and fights. My body crumples to the ground, but strong arms catch me and lift me. My head rests against a muscular chest. His breathing is heavy, his anger solid and intense.

Sebastian.

"Why?" I ask, with the airy breathlessness reserved for those whose life is leaking out of them. "Why are you always angry at me?"