Page 12 of Cruelly Fated (Princes of Avari #1)

Eleven

ALLIE

L arry twirled a finger in the air, and I turned slowly, giving him the full view.

My audition outfit—a red-and-black-checkered schoolgirl skirt barely long enough to qualify as clothing and a mid-rise white blouse knotted just beneath my bra—left little to the imagination.

Shimmering red heels adorned my feet. The whole look broke every school dress code ever written… and that was the po int.

I kept my expression blank, ignoring the way Larry’s eyes gleamed, how his tongue swiped across his lips like a predator savoring the scent of blood. He was my only shot at landing this job at the new club—a job I desperately needed if I had any hope of hiring a lawyer for Grandpa.

He hopped onto a barstool he’d dragged away from the counter, striking a pose like some sleazy director on a low-budget film set, then motioned for me to get on the main stage.

It was early, just past lunch. The club wouldn’t open for hours, and the place sat empty, with no clients and no staff.

Larry had sounded almost too eager to schedule my audition during this quiet slot when I called him this morning.

I hadn’t expected him to record it so soon, but that suited me just fine.

According to him, I could start as early as next week.

The new club, The Red Ember, was throwing its grand opening bash this weekend, and they wanted fresh faces.

“Did you bring your music?” he asked, already fiddling with his laptop.

I jogged up to my handbag at the corner of the stage and pulled out the thumb drive.

With how little advance notice Larry had given me, I didn’t have time to choreograph anything new.

So I chose the routine I knew best—my mom’s signature number.

I’d memorized it when I was just a kid, spinning circles in our old living room while she rehearsed.

Larry plugged the drive into his laptop, and soon the song blared through the club’s speakers .

“I remember this piece. Good choice,” he muttered, nodding to himself.

I tested the dance pole anchored at center stage with a few tentative spins.

Mom had once tried to convince Grandpa to install one at the house so she could rehearse without commuting, but he’d flat-out refused.

Turns out, watching her glide around it like a goddess and actually doing it myself were two very different things.

My first grip was too high. Second, too loose.

After a few awkward attempts and some quiet cursing under my breath, I figured out the proper hand placement. I bit my lip and nodded at Larry.

“I think I’m ready,” I said, my chest rising with effort and nerves.

“Excellent. Your pole work’s still a little wonky, so keep most of the routine on the floor. The Red Ember’s a new-age club, more fluid dancing, less acrobatics. They want heat, not circus tricks.”

Oh. That could work in my favor. Maybe I’d been too quick to judge the place. This could be something I didn’t just tolerate, but enjoyed.

Larry adjusted the camera tripod, phone already mounted, then counted down silently from five with his fingers. The speakers clicked and blared to life again.

As the upbeat pop music kicked in, my body instinctively found the rhythm, each sway and step coming naturally to me.

The spotlight warmed my skin, pulsing in time with the bass as I let the beat pull me under.

I wasn’t in a club. I wasn’t being filmed.

I was back in our living room at midnight, barefoot, spinning in Mom’s shadow.

But this time…I was the one dancing.

The music built to a climax. I reached toward the empty audience with one hand, curled a leg around the pole, and bent backward just as the final note struck. I held the pose a few seconds longer—just enough for Larry to get a clean cut for the audition tape.

He began clapping, and I exhaled, sliding to a crouch.

“Should I go again?” I asked, though the thought of enduring another round under Larry’s leering gaze made my skin crawl.

“Are you kidding? That was perfection.” He kissed the tips of his fingers. “Fix your hair. I want to submit a photo with the reel.”

Photos? I hesitated but shrugged. I supposed that wouldn’t hurt. I ran my fingers through the long waves I’d let loose for the routine, smoothed down my skirt, and reapplied the red lipstick from Mom’s old tube.

“Stand in front of the bar,” Larry said, already snapping pictures. “Tilt your head back—good. Rest your heel here. Chin up, now look away.”

He rattled off a dozen more poses, some veering toward risqué, but thankfully, none required fewer clothes.

“Nice, nice…” he murmured, swiping through the images with a grin stretched too wide. A cold knot settled low in my stomach. I turned away, pretending to tidy my skirt while pressing a palm to my middle .

“I’m gonna get ready for the shift,” I called over my shoulder, vanishing into the back room.

I changed quickly as if I could strip away the memory along with the outfit.

Hair braided, lips bare, I stared at my reflection.

Maybe this new club gig was a bad idea after all.

I could pawn Mom’s necklace and scrape together enough for a lawyer that way.

My mind firming around the decision, I slipped out of the bathroom and pushed through the swinging door—then froze.

A lone customer sat at the bar, Larry nowhere in sight.

The man’s glacial blue eyes pinned me in place, not just looking at me, but through me—like he saw too much. I hovered just inside the entrance behind the bar.

He wore a crisp charcoal suit, tailored within an inch of its life, and a gleaming silver watch peeked out from beneath the cuff. He didn’t belong here. Definitely not some casual patron. He had to be here for Larry…but then why sit out here instead of in the manager’s office?

A slow, predatory smile curved his lips. The tips of his fangs glinted under the low light.

Vampire. We didn’t get their type here, unless they came out for a rogue hunt.

I pressed myself back against the liquor shelf, every muscle coiled tight.

“Where’s Larry?” I asked, my pulse hammering in my ears.

The vampire’s gaze slid to the throbbing vein in my neck.

Fae gods… Had he drained Larry? Was I next ?

His brow furrowed as his eyes lifted to meet mine—and that was all I needed. Panic flooded my veins, and my mind threw an illusion like a net. While his attention locked on the projection, I bolted into the back room, feet flying toward the exit.

I sauntered toward him, bracing my palms on the counter and leaning in close enough for him to wrap his fingers around my throat if he wanted to. A coy smile touched my lips. “Would you like a taste?”

He swiped at my illusion and BAM!

I blinked, disoriented, sprawled on the floor in front of the back door I’d just run into. Stars burst behind my eyes. I’d never tried holding an illusion and moving my physical body before.

A pair of polished dress shoes approached. He stuffed his hands casually in his pockets, his glacial stare drilling into me. I shrieked and scrambled back on all fours, pressing myself against the wall.

“Get away from me!” I shouted.

The swinging door burst open behind the vampire. Larry waddled into the back room, not a single hair out of place in his over-gelled helmet of a hairstyle. His brows shot up, eyes sweeping over the scene.

“Allie, what are you doing?” he asked, voice pitched somewhere between scold and scoff.

“This gentleman asked about you. Is that how you greet our visitors?” He gave a too-wide smile to the vampire, then flicked a pinched expression back to me.

His pudgy fingers fluttered in a silent command for me to stand up, his eyes narrowing in warning .

“I think there’s been a small misunderstanding,” the vampire said, his voice smooth, dangerous but enchanting. I slid upright along the wall, my spine scraping against brick. My legs locked beneath me, bracing in case I’d knocked myself hard enough to wobble.

“Valor, Kyon’s acquaintance.” He extended a hand, palm open and casual.

Kyon’s partner? Why would the dragon prince send his terrifying vampire companion to find me?

“Allie,” I whispered, hesitantly placing my hand in his.

Larry let out a dry chuckle, clearly back in his comfort zone.

“Marvelous. I’ll leave you two to chat, then, yeah?” He turned and waddled off without waiting for my answer.

Valor lifted both hands in mock surrender. “I’m not here to harm you.”

I nodded numbly, then bent over, hands braced on my knees. My brain throbbed like a caged animal slamming against the bars of my skull.

An upturned crate appeared in front of me.

“Would you like to sit?” Valor asked.

I dropped onto it without replying, pressing my palms into my temples. “Why did he send you?” I managed. At least my thoughts were still functional, even if the rest of me was a trembling wreck.

Something warm splattered against my thigh. I blinked my eyes open. Blood? Panic jolted me upright. I swiped beneath my nose and pulled back a crimson smear. Wonderful. A nosebleed in front of a vampire.

Valor produced a black square of velvet and held it out. I frowned—a handkerchief? I took it automatically, staring at the embroidered red “V” in the corner, then thrust it towards him.

“I can’t use this. I’ll get blood on it—”

The vampire gently pushed my hand back, a small smile on his lips. “That’s the point. A gentlemanly gesture and an apology for causing you distress. Your manager assured me… Well, never mind.”

I dabbed the blood beneath my nose and leaned my head back against the wall, hoping gravity would stop the bleeding. Now I was stuck staring up at the mysterious stranger who looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of Fae Fortune or some high-powered Wall Street mag.

I groaned. “Larry is…Larry.” The cold-blooded sleazeball chased every dollar. One glance at Valor in his sleek suit and polished shoes, and Larry would roll out the crimson carpet, even if the vampire were a serial killer.

Valor flashed a row of perfectly straight white teeth, the telltale fangs now retracted.

“You want a free tip?” he said. “Next time you use an illusion, don’t run.”

“Ha ha,” I deadpanned.

His brows lifted slightly, curious now, maybe even impressed.

“I was skeptical when Kyon told me about your gift. But whatever you did felt real . Have you ever tried developing it? ”

I frowned. “No. It’s a useless task.” I blinked, my head finally clearing. “Why are you here again?”

Valor’s expression darkened with something unreadable.

“Kyon requested to see you. We need your help.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “I can’t speak here.”

I studied him. Kyon and I had a deal, and yesterday he was content waiting until next Wednesday. What changed?

“I can’t leave. My shift is about to start,” I said, rising to my feet and offering the bloodstained handkerchief back to him.

“Keep it,” he said, not missing a beat.

“And besides,” I added, “aren’t visitations limited to once a week? I’m sure he’d rather spend his time with his family than waste it on me.”

“His family would rather forget he exists,” Valor said quietly. “And they nearly succeeded.”

My stomach twisted. I thought… Marley said Kyon was the dragon king’s son—a literal prince. What did he do, for his own blood to cut him off like that? What did I do by drawing his attention to my family?

“Lucky for you, VIP visitors can come and go as they please, and you’re looking at one,” Valor said.

“So you’re one of them ? A prince.” I did a double take. He fit the profile perfectly. What were the odds of me meeting two princes in a span of two weeks?

He chuckled, amused. “That’s what they call us. Yes.”

“Why does he want to see me? We had a deal. ”

“Your grandfather’s safe,” he said. “Kyon simply wants to ask you a favor. Would you accompany me?”

The way he spoke, so polite and confident, made the outright refusal difficult.

“What about my job?” I asked. “I can’t afford to lose a shift.”

“I’ve got this,” he said smoothly. “Meet you at the front?”

And before I could agree or argue, he vanished, the back-room door swinging shut in his wake. A shiver passed through me.

I crept toward the entrance, peeking out just in time to catch Valor speaking to Larry, my boss’s big-fish air oozing out of him. Valor handed Larry a business card and a thick wad of bills.

My bag had somehow landed near the bar. I grabbed it, slinging it over my shoulder, and meandered toward the main entrance. Valor waited there already, flashing in place as if he’d never left and holding the door open.

I risked a glance over my shoulder. Larry stood behind the bar, grinning like a fae-cat in cream and counting money with greedy fat fingers.