Page 4 of Make Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #1)

Penny’s eyes narrow as she tosses her blonde waves over her shoulder. “Three stories, probably over twenty thousand square feet, and surrounded by enchanted fog? I’m more curious how none of us knew this was where that fae was living this whole time.”

Her suspicious chuckle earns one from me.

She’s not wrong. Even closer up, the estate is pristine—the stone walls unblemished with darker rock and ivy climbing up the sides.

The windows are spotless and spaced with elegant symmetry, but every single one is obscure, as if the glass itself has been blacked out.

No hint of life behind them, just smooth, unbroken shadows.

That combined with everything else and the only thing this place seems to be missing is a moat and a lurking sea monster.

We walk side by side for a few more steps, both of us slowing as we approach the main door.

Penny’s eyes narrow and she lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Time to get this over with. See you in there.”

“Yeah,” I lie, “I’ll be right behind you.”

Moving out of the way for another group waiting to enter, there’s a slow warmth that seeps into my bones, subtle but unmistakable, as if I’ve crossed an invisible line into comfort.

Maybe Vaelora enchanted the grounds to feel this way. Maybe she wants everyone so at ease that they forget how to leave. Maybe she’s planning to feed off our energy like some kind of fae leech.

The thought makes me snort under my breath. Apparently, I’m adding paranoia to my growing list of charming qualities. Vaelora may be annoying and obnoxiously pretty, but she’s not evil. Hopefully.

I glance behind me, pretending to admire the fountain I hadn’t noticed before.

It stands in the center of the circular driveway with three tiers of carved obsidian and glowing runes.

Colored lights flicker just beneath the surface of the water, casting soft reflections onto the mist. Small streams arc gracefully into the air from the top tier and land with perfect precision into the lower levels, creating a rhythmic, soothing trickle.

More guests arrive, drifting past me like royalty in satin and silk. I keep out of their way but still don’t follow. The laughter and music float from inside the house, teasing and welcoming, but my feet stay rooted to the stone.

With a long exhale, I press a hand to my chest and try to center myself.

Gods, I miss me. The old me. The one who lived in the moment like Nona.

Who took risks just to feel something. Who didn’t need a reason to say yes.

Sometime over the last year, I started shrinking, and I didn’t even notice it happening until now.

How did I let this happen?

I don’t know, but it has to end before I completely lose myself.

Maybe I’ll send a message to Sin, asking her to come here. Hell, I could invite Clara and Raegan too. Get the whole gang back together for a weekend with my girls. Ones that I know are rather good at knocking sense back into people whenever they need it.

I make a mental note to do that tomorrow then straighten my shoulders. No more stalling. It’s time to walk through that door and get this night over with.

The moment I push open the massive double doors, the cool night air vanishes, replaced by a rush of warm, fragrant air laced with magic and perfume.

The foyer is stunning—high white ceilings vaulted above me like the inside of a cathedral, a crystal chandelier hanging in the center, scattering fractals of light across the polished black marble beneath my feet.

Gold-veined columns frame the hall, and the whole space hums faintly with magic.

Only a few people linger near the entrance. Most guests have already moved into the heart of the mansion.

An older gentleman in a crisp tux stands beside a pedestal, adjusting his bowtie with one hand while holding out the other toward me with a dignified smile. His aura is faint—almost undetectable—which makes me believe he’s human. That alone is enough to throw me off once more.

“Invitation, miss?”

“Right.” I dig the wrinkled parchment from my pocket and hand it over.

His smile widens. “Welcome, Miss Hav?—”

“Kasha is fine,” I interrupt.

“My apologies, Miss Kasha.” He gives a slight bow then gestures toward the wide arched halls ahead. “Please, enjoy all the festivities. We have entertainment back and to the left, food on the right, and the bar just up ahead.”

“I think I’ll start with a drink,” I mutter, already in need of some liquid courage.

He chuckles almost knowingly. “Try Moonlit Venom. Fae-crafted, lightly spiced, and glows just enough to remind you that even pretty things can be dangerous. It’s been a guest favorite.”

Well, at least the old guy knows his stuff .

I make my way down the hallway behind him, passing ornate sconces glowing with cool blue light.

The doors I pass are all shut tight, their knobs a polished bronze that gleams beneath the chandeliers.

Unable to resist, I reach for one, but the moment my fingertips graze the handle, a jolt of energy zips through me like a warning shot, making my spine snap straight.

Note to self: touch as little as possible in this house.

The bar comes into view next, but it’s the open area beyond that catches my attention most. It’s not what I expect from Vaelora.

Less fancy ballroom, more high end nightclub.

The ceiling is lower here, the lights dimmer, and the music is a pulsing beat that thrums through the floor.

Twinkle lights weave amongst the rafters like constellations, bathing everything in a dusky glow.

A wide dance area commands the center of the room, packed with bodies moving together, a mix of shifters, fae, vamps, and everything in between.

Tables line the edges, draped in dark cloth and covered with half-finished drinks, crystal dishes of glowing fruit, and enchanted smoke that swirls from incense burners.

I make my way to the bar, a sleek white marble counter that curves in a half-moon shape beneath a ceiling of hanging glass bottles. A sexy vampire with platinum blond hair and a roguish grin greets me, his fang-tipped smile practically a wink.

“Hello, gorgeous,” he drawls, his red eyes gleaming as they sweep over me. He taps a finger against his sharp chin. “You want a Moonlit Venom but make it a double.”

My mouth parts slightly. “How’d you know?”

He winks. “It’s my job to know. ”

Of course it is.

While he starts mixing, I lean against the bar and take in the crowd. Everyone seems relaxed here—laughing, drinking, dancing—but the energy is charged. Like they’re all just pretending this is a regular party while something deeper stirs beneath the surface.

And then—oh no.

Bruno.

Don’t get me wrong. He’s not a bad guy. Actually, he was kind, attentive, and good in bed.

But I felt nothing. Emptiness disguised as affection.

I slept with him because I needed something, anything really, that helped me feel alive.

Then I ghosted him like a coward, slipping out after he fell asleep and ignoring every message he sent afterward.

Yep. I might be the literal worst.

His gaze locks on me from across the room, and I panic, grabbing someone walking past me to use as a living shield. Except the stranger stumbles over my foot and ends up bracing himself against the bar, his arms caging me in and his face far too close to mine.

“You,” he breathes.

His voice is low, full of gravel and something darker.

His blue eyes, rimmed in silver, darken as they trace my face.

Thick lashes frame them, and a lock of ebony hair falls over his brow.

His jaw is sharp and his slightly crooked nose tells me that he’s no stranger to trouble.

He wears a charcoal-grey dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, the fabric pulled taut across broad shoulders.

His skin is sun-kissed and rugged, like someone who prefers the open sky to the indoors .

“One double Moonlit Venom for the lovely lady,” the bartender announces, sliding the glowing drink across the counter like he’s delivering fate itself.

I blink. The stranger doesn’t move.

I take a single step to the side, but something rumbles low in my chest—something I don’t recognize. Instinct coils beneath my skin, uneasy and electric.

Then I shove him because finding a hookup isn’t what tonight’s about.

“I didn’t mean to grab you,” I mutter. “I, uh, thought you were someone else.”

I expect him to move, but his gaze doesn’t waver. It’s intense and focused right on me, making my stomach flutter in ways I’m not sure it ever has. Still, I can’t tell if he’s pissed about my interruption, or if he’s just naturally this overwhelming.

When he doesn’t budge, I turn sharply, using my shoulder to force his arm out of my way and to give me some space so that I can grab the drink without turning my back to him. You know, just in case he’s the murdery type.

The glass tingles within my palm as soon as I grab it, flickering faintly in the dim light.

“Okay,” I say, my voice a little too high. “Well, I’m going to go now.”

Maybe the entertainment room will be more promising.

Or, at the very least, have fewer sexy problems.