Page 16 of The Vampire's Mercy

Feeding balls were created for mortals to donate their blood to vampires as a spicier alternative to voluntary extraction at a hospital. In exchange, they would be rewarded for their gift in coin, clothes, or anything really. Some mortals became lovers, or vampires, or whatever. It was all gross to me.

To become a vamp, and to give blood, you had to go through an application process. There was lots of paperwork and psychological assessments first, and approval from the king and the Global Order.

Vampires were seductive creatures, their magic potent, able to weaken the resolve of any mortal quickly. So everything had to be above board before anything went down.

Pfft. As if those rules were never broken.

I should know.

Fuck this society. Oh, wasn’t it lovely living in peace? Wouldn’t it be awesome for me to cut my losses, find a nice boyfriend, and head into the forest to live like an elf? Although I wasn’t sure how I’d run a flower shop in the middle of the woods.

Whatever. None of that mattered. And what would I want a boyfriend for? To love? No way. Love died when Pearl died. Love could go sit on a cactus.

This thinking hurt my soul. So, I fixed my silver hair, teasing it with wax, parted in the middle with decent volume, the product elevating my usual style into a more attractive version.

Add in some silver earrings for my pointy ears, a pair of tight white jeans to show off my peach, the silver band of my boxers peeking out, and sparkly white shoes—this outfit was ready to turn heads.

And bring your end, you fangy fucks.

Chuckling like a super villain, I sprayed on a fine mist of a woody, elvish perfume for extra alure and said goodbye to my plants, giving Oliver some special attention.

“I’ll be back soon, sweetie,” I told him.

He stirred, sending energy to me.

Hal was already at Majestic Moon, the club in Dawnfair, an affluent area in the west of the city where the feeding ball would take place. He was working at the bar undercover, gathering intel, properly assimilated into working life there.

He’d been so cute to me all afternoon. Reassuring me, telling me how proud he was of me for undertaking this mission, and promised me we’d get to the bottom of the nest and weird dagger stuff.

Man, I’d snogged the shit out of him when he’d left.

My belly twisted into knots. This was it. This really was it.

Get ready for me, Silvanus.

Get fucking ready.

I threw on a white leather jacket, drew luck down my chest, strapped on my breaker, and stepped out into the night.

I hatedthis area of the city. Lots of cobbled streets and red brick buildings, the streets cleaner than anywhere else in Oreflame. It was the place to spend big coin in the finest restaurants and grab the latest overpriced clothes from the fanciest of fancy boutiques.

And fake. So, so fake. Full of rich pricks and pampered idiots I couldn’t stand to be around.

Unless I had to be.

Two werewolves greeted me at the door of the club. Big guys in their humanoid form, wolfy yellow eyes boring into me. Suited and booted in black suits, they scanned me, then checked the fake paperwork Hal submitted a few weeks ago on their glass techpads. Then the one with the mohawk patted me down while the bald one took a long sniff.

“Smelling sharp, dude,” he spoke with a growl, his neck bigger than my thighs. “Good enough to eat.”

“Thanks.” I kept it cute, injecting false promise in my tone.

Sell the lie.

Sell the sex.

He took another sniff. “What you doing after?” His hand went to cop a feel of my backside, but he thought better of it.

“Recovering,” I answered, batting my lashes.