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I hand her the rest of what’s in my wallet—another few hundred. Money means nothing to me. I’ve accumulated wealth over the millennia, and she clearly needs it more than I do. We both got what we wanted tonight.

She leaves without looking back, her heels clicking against the floor as she exits my bedroom. I watch her go, feeling nothing but a vague sense of relief that this particular encounter is over.

I pick up the rumpled sheets and toss them onto the bed. My little friend doesn’t even flinch, already settling into his resting position. I head to the bathroom, needing to wash the scent of meaningless sex from my skin.

Under the hot spray of the shower, I let my mind wander.

My little friend believes he has family on Wintermoon.

The images he’s shared—always vague, always tinged with hope—suggest his siblings might be there.

But I’m not relocating there myself. While Amir and Damon have created a safe haven for supernaturals, it’s still a cage.

A golden cage, perhaps, but confinement, nonetheless.

After my shower, I step out, wrapping a towel around my waist. The scent hits me immediately—old, ancient, Roman. The distinct smell of my sire.

“Damon.”

I step out of the bathroom to find him standing in the doorway, his eyes focused on my little friend. But he doesn’t seem irritated like he usually is when he encounters my companion. It’s been over a hundred years since they’ve seen each other, and his reaction is... different.

“He’s grown,” Damon says, stepping into the room.

My friend immediately goes into defensive mode.

His body crouches low, legs spread wide for stability, fangs extending slightly as he prepares to strike if necessary.

His bristly hair stands on end, making him appear even larger than he is.

It’s a position I’ve seen him take when facing real threats.

I hold up my hand. “No, little friend. This is my sire. He’s always welcome.”

He relaxes immediately, settling back onto the pillow, but his eight eyes remain fixed on Damon. The tension in his legs eases, though he stays alert.

“Yes, he tends to grow whenever—” I start, then stop myself. No need to share our personal details.

I approach Damon, and despite no longer being part of his coven, I still respect the blood-bond between us. I bow my head in recognition, and he places a hand on my damp shoulder.

“You don’t have to be formal with me anymore, Amari,” he says. “I see you’ve built quite a coven of your own. Impressive—not many nomad vampires manage that feat.”

I smile, walking to my dresser to get clothes. My coven, the Medina Shadow Coven, is something I’m genuinely proud of. We operate differently than traditional covens—more like a military unit with a corporate structure.

“What brings you to me?” I ask, pulling out boxers and pajama pants.

His eyes keep drifting back to my little friend, and I catch a scent of... familiarity? Recognition? I don’t mention it, but it’s interesting.

“Wintermoon needs your help,” he says.

I grin, sliding into the boxers and letting the towel drop. “I’ve been meaning to pay a visit to the King and Queen. I’m familiar with King Amir, but not his new queen.”

“And when was that going to be?” Damon asks, disappointment clear in his voice. “You’ve been in town for three months and said nothing.”

“My apologies, Damon,” I say, pulling on the pajama pants. “But I’m taking a different approach to taking down Brookstone and Blackburn Enterprises.”

He pulls his coin from his pocket, that damned Roman denarius he’s been flipping for two millennia. The gesture tells me he’s settling in for a longer conversation than I want.

“And what is that?”

I approach him, my mind already racing through corporate strategies.

“I’m going to make Michigan hate them. When they try to move operations elsewhere, the damage will already be done.

I’m going to show this state how employees should actually be treated.

You have to play corporations at their own game if you truly want to take them down—not just destroy board members and think that ends it.

Brookstone and Blackburn is an entity that?—”

“The loss of the board was not Wintermoon’s doing,” Damon cuts me off. “That was their own creation.”

I flash my fangs in a grin. “Maybe so, but Wintermoon was involved somehow.”

Damon sighs, irritation heavy on his face. He stuffs his free hand in his pocket while continuing to flip the coin.

“How can I help Wintermoon?” I ask. “I’ve heard the place has become a fortress with the Ash Clan. I don’t see how I’d be necessary.”

His green eyes brighten with something like excitement. “You’re an innovator, Amari. You always have been. With this tech firm you’ve built over the centuries, you have something in your arsenal that can help us.”

“Having more problems with radical humans?”

He nods. “We had someone maintaining security over our borders—better than any security we’ve ever had—but radicals have found a way to overpower our current system.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb my resting friend. “Let’s start by discussing the security you have in place. Maybe I can improve what you already have.”

“We’ve pulled that security for good reason. I need a new system entirely, and I know you can help with that.”

I lean back slightly, studying my sire. There’s something he’s not telling me, some piece of information he’s holding back. It’s there in the way his eyes keep drifting to my little friend, in the subtle shift of his scent.

“I suppose my visit to Wintermoon will happen sooner than anticipated.”

“I’ll arrange something on King Amir’s Island,” Damon offers.

I hold up a hand. “That won’t be necessary. I own property throughout Michigan. I’ll stay close by, but outside the border.”

Damon’s eyes narrow. “Still have an aversion to the Master Vampire Coven?”

I laugh. “Old habit. Help me refresh my memory—didn’t King Amir have to execute the leaders of his coven for corruption? Something that keeps happening?”

“We’re working on that,” Damon says through gritted teeth.

“I’m sure you are.”

The Master Coven is a cesspool, and we both know it. I’ll never understand why King Amir refuses to clean house completely. They have no ambition beyond blood and sex, no purpose beyond their own pleasure.

“At least stay on the Community Lands,” Damon presses.

“It would offend King Amir if you declined his hospitality. It’ll be unusual having a vampire of your status not on the royal island, but there are other vampires who live on the community lands and aren’t part of the King’s coven. We don’t force membership.”

“Oh, I’m sure they have their reasons.”

My sarcasm isn’t lost on him. He rolls his eyes.

“I’ll give you a week,” I concede. “Just to assess your borders and see how I can help. But I’m not staying in that cage. I’m not interested in being a zoo exhibit for humans to gawk at.”

“Wintermoon isn’t a zoo, Amari. I wish you wouldn’t see it that way.”

My little friend sends me images suddenly—Damon leaving, the door closing, blessed silence returning. He’s tired of company.

“I’ll be there in a couple of days,” I tell Damon.

He flips his coin again, opening his palm to let it land. Heads, as always. He closes his fist around it, the gesture as familiar as his breathing.

“Good. Make sure you announce yourself to the King first. And...” He pauses, looking between me and my little friend with an expression I can’t quite read. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. I really think you’ll like her.”

I don’t respond. Whatever cryptic bullshit that was supposed to be.

He knows I’m tired of meaningless flings, but tell that to my dick.

It doesn’t give a shit about my emotional exhaustion or my search for something real.

If he’s offering good pussy and something nice to feed on, fine.

But I’m not expecting anything more than another empty encounter.

“You really need to give your little friend a name,” he says.

I shrug. I’ve tried countless names over the centuries. He responds to nothing but “little friend.” I think he adopted it from my constant greeting years ago.

Damon bows his head to me, and I do the same. “I must be on my way. The sun is rising. See you soon, brother.”

With that, he flashes away, disappearing with vampire speed, leaving only the faint scent of Rome behind.

I lie down beside my friend, staring at the ceiling. I caught something during Damon’s visit—his heartbeat.

I press a hand to the space where a heartbeat once resided, finding only hollow silence.

I’ve been dead so long I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel that rhythmic pulse, to have proof of life coursing through my veins.

Maybe that’s why I chase these meaningless encounters—desperately searching for something, anything, to remind me I’m more than just a walking corpse.

The sun rises somewhere beyond the heavy curtains, painting the room in muted gold. My little friend appears to be sleeping, though I can never tell for certain. His eyes don’t close like mammals’, and he enters a state somewhere between sleep and meditation.

I close my eyes, keeping my hand on my chest, thinking of the moment when my woman makes me feel alive again. She’s out there—I know it now. The pull is stronger in Detroit, stronger than it’s ever been. Soon, I’ll find her.

And when I do, she’s going to have her hands full with me.

I drift toward sleep with images of Wintermoon in my mind, wondering what—or who—Damon wants me to meet. With my luck, it’ll be another political alliance or some ancient vampire looking for entertainment.

But as I sink deeper into rest, my little friend shifts slightly beside me, and I catch the faintest trace of something familiar in the air. Something that makes my dead heart almost skip in a way it hasn’t for centuries.

Maybe this trip to Wintermoon will be more interesting than I thought.