My mouth clamped shut. Panic flared within me. I jerked my head around to peer out the window. It was so dark it was hard to make out what was outside. I saw some lights, some movement—but it was all fleeting and blurred. Where had he taken me? And what was about to happen?

My hands clung to the car’s leather seats, my heels pressing hard against the floor. I wasn’t sure what I expected to achieve from this—it wasn’t as if I thought he would just leave me in the limo if I suddenly decided I didn’t want to go. And yet my body couldn’t seem to help offering up one last fleeting show of resistance. A vain attempt to stop whatever was happening…from happening.

The door opened from the outside. The limo driver stood there, offering me a hand. For a moment, I just stared at it, my heart pounding in my chest. Then I reluctantly reached out and took it. What else could I do?

His hand was surprisingly cold. Even colder than Darla’s usually were and she had terrible circulation. I allowed him to help me out of the limo, wobbling a little as my too-high heels sank into the dirt. But Logan, who had come around from the other side, grabbed me and helped me stay upright. I tried and failed not to notice how strong his hands felt against my body as he ushered me to the paved side road.

He turned to the limo driver, whispering something too low for me to hear. The driver nodded and closed the back door, then returned to his seat. I took the opportunity to look around, trying to gauge my surroundings. If I needed to run, would there be any place safe to run to? I should have paid more attention to where we were going in the car.

“Where are we?” I asked, my heart beating furiously in my chest. It was definitely a part of town I’d never seen before. The kind that no one in their right mind would want to spend time in…especially at night.

“Come,” Logan said, not answering my question. He once again placed a firm hand at the small of my back, leading me away from the relative safety of the limo and down the darkened street. As we passed parked car after parked car, I could hear shouting from a not-so-far-off distance. Followed by something that sounded suspiciously like gunfire. Or fireworks?

No. Definitely gunfire.

“Are you afraid?” Logan asked softly, leaning down so his mouth was only inches from my ear. “Because, if so, you needn’t be.”

I shivered involuntarily as his cool breath tickled my lobe. How could this moment be so terrifying and yet so sensual, all at the same time? I tried to choke out a laugh. To break the spell. “Really? And why is that?”

“Because you’re with me,” Logan said simply. As if that explained everything.

I swallowed hard. Wanting desperately to believe him. Wanting to be a normal girl, out on a normal date with a normal guy. The kind of thing I used to do…before.

But that was ridiculous. I wasn’t a normal girl. And this wasn’t a normal date. Or a date at all, for that matter. Instead I had gone and put myself at the complete mercy of a total stranger. Something I would never, ever do.

Except, for some reason, I had.

I opened my mouth. To tell Logan I didn’t want to do this. That the joke had gone too far. That I wanted to go home. That if he didn’t take me home, I’d scream. I’d call the police. I’d—

My eyes fell upon the building in front of us. I squinted at it for a moment, wondering why it looked so weirdly familiar. It took me a moment, but then my eyes locked onto a small neon sign at the entrance. A sign that read: FANG.

“Wait, is this Club Fang?” I asked, curious despite myself. After all, I knew all about this place. My readers were always talking about it on my Facebook page. A lot of them were regulars. From what I could tell it was some kind of chain of clubs—goth clubs on steroids. Like, the kind of place someone would go if they fancied themselves a vampire or other creature of the night.

Or wanted to prove to a certain author that the aforementioned creatures existed, I supposed.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, relief coursing through my veins. I can do this, I told myself. It’s a public place. There will be plenty of people around. Maybe some will even be readers. And there will be bouncers to step in if things get weird…

“You know of Club Fang?” Logan asked, sounding surprised.

I turned to him. “I may be a recluse, but I still have Google.”

His mouth lifted. “Of course. Silly me.”

“So…” I looked around the building. “Do we just get in line?”

My eyes wandered down the line in question, which was actually absurdly long for a weird fetish club like this. Filled with goth kids dressed in black with various piercings on various appendages. Who knew we had such a large scene in our town?

I noted that a few of them were watching us curiously and at first I wondered if maybe they had recognized me from my author photo. That happened sometimes, especially in places like this. But then I realized they weren’t staring at me at all. They were staring at Logan. Especially the girls.

I was surprised at the shimmer of jealousy that rippled through me as I took in their hungry eyes. I mean, how could I blame them? After all, they had no idea how pig-headed and annoying he was. They just saw a tall, hot guy with a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. I wondered what they thought of me, standing by his side, as if I had some claim over this hotness. A gothic king, escorting a plain little mouse past the line and to the front of the club.

Because, it turned out, with Logan we did not just “get in line.”

In fact, when we finally reached the front door, the bouncer didn’t even hesitate. He opened the red velvet rope and we stepped across the barrier as if we belonged there. Okay, fine, Logan clearly did belong there. But he was the only one. That said, I had to admit it was pretty cool to waltz into the club as if I was someone important. I mean, I was never a club kid, but I had seen this kind of thing many times on TV. The celebrities rolling up in their limos. The velvet ropes parting as the crowd in line seethed with jealousy. And now, for the first time in my life they were seething with jealousy over little, old me!

But all thoughts of celebrity and jealousy vanished as we stepped into the club itself. Into a treasure trove of sights and sounds that defied my craziest imagination. It was huge inside—way larger than it looked from the outside. And the dinginess of the neighborhood fell away, replaced by an opulent Victorian chic décor. Almost everything here was the color of crimson. From the ornate velvet upholstered couches to the shiny metallic floor. Even the lights that bounced off the ceilings and walls were mostly red.

And then there was the music. Loud, dark, haunting. Goth music, I assumed, thinking back to when one of my fans had put together an unofficial soundtrack for Maisie and Jonathan. Which, at the time, I had found pretty amusing; after all, Maisie and Jonathan may have been vampires, but they were definitely not goths. In fact, Maisie had a thing for Taylor Swift. And Jonathan? Well, he liked old school. Like really old school. Bach, Beethoven…

“So,” I said, trying to raise my voice to be heard over the music. “This is a vampire club?”

Logan shrugged. “Partially,” he said. “They allow humans to come here, too.”

“What, as hors d’oeuvres?” I couldn’t help but quip.

He frowned, looking a little insulted. “As customers,” he corrected, stiffly. “There aren’t enough vampires to keep the place open on its own. Not to mention vampires hardly ever pay a cover.”

“Of course they don’t.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

I looked around the club, trying to take it all in. The place was packed with goth kids (and vampires posing as goth kids?) dancing to the beat. The dance they were doing looked something akin to having one’s foot stuck in a mud puddle. They’d carefully remove the foot, lifting it up into the air, then setting it back down again, only to repeat the movement with the other foot. Meanwhile their arms were going wild, waving in the air, as if they were some weird brand of sorcerers casting a spell.

“So…who are the vampires?” I asked. “They all look alike to me.”

Logan scanned the room for a moment before answering. “I think everyone out here is mortal,” he said. “Vampires don’t always come out to the main floor. They usually prefer…the back rooms.”

I tried to suppress a shiver running down my spine. The way he said “back rooms” sounded menacing, though I wasn’t sure why. Most clubs, after all, had a VIP room, right? Well, maybe this was a VIV room—for very important vampires who didn’t wish to mingle with mortals.

“So what’s in the back room?” I asked, against my better judgement.

He smiled. “Come,” he said. “And I will show you.”

And so I followed him through the crowd, trying my best to dodge all the dancers and those carrying drinks. I had to admit, it looked like a pretty fun club—if you were into this sort of scene. I would have to tell my readers next time I went online that I had come here to check it out. They would be so excited. After all, they wanted nothing more than for me to be one of them. For once I wouldn’t disappoint.

Finally, we reached a back door, guarded by another bouncer. This guy was even bigger and burlier than the one outside—who had been pretty intimidating in and of himself. But he only smiled when he saw Logan and I, reaching out and opening the door.

“It’s good to see you again, Sir,” he said, addressing Logan with a stiff bow. “It has been far too long.”

Logan gave him a respectful nod of his head in return. “Good to see you, too, Francis,” he said. “My duties for the Blood Coven have kept me quite occupied.” He smiled. “No time for getting my groove on.”

“Blood Coven? What the heck is a Blood Coven?” I asked as we stepped through the door. Logan waited for it to close behind us before turning back to me.

“A coven is a vampire’s family,” he explained. “They are also a political entity that resides under the jurisdiction of a larger vampire consortium, made up of coven representatives that decide the laws of the land.”

“You guys have an actual government?” I asked. “That’s pretty hardcore.”

“Pretty necessary,” he corrected. “If we are to survive as a species and live amongst humans, we need to retain law and order amongst our kind.”

“Sure,” I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes again. It was crazy how serious these people took this game. I mean I’ve seen some pretty intense fandoms, but this was on another level entirely.

We walked down a hallway, painted (predictably) all in red. The further we got, the more nervous I started to feel and my hands began to tremble. Back in the club I felt relatively safe, surrounded by people. Now I was once again alone with a guy who seemed to truly believe he was part of some vampire cult. What was I going to find at the end of this hallway? And would I ever be allowed to leave?

Finally, the hallway ended, opening up into a large waiting room. At least it looked like a waiting room, complete with couches and coffee tables and magazines. There was even a receptionist, sitting behind a desk, reading a novel. And each wall had multiple doors. Like little booths or something.

I frowned. “What is this?” I asked.

Logan gave me a wicked smile. “The dining room,” he replied.

“The what?”

“Where vampires feed?”

Ew. I wrinkled my nose, realizing what he was implying. I had tried to tell myself that maybe these vampire wannabes didn’t actually go so far as to drink actual blood. But who was I kidding? Of course they drank it.

“So, what? You drag humans back here and suck them dry?” I asked, my stomach starting to feel quite queasy. I really hoped I wouldn’t suddenly be told I was on tonight’s menu.

He snorted. “It’s a bit more regulated than that,” he said.

“Regulated blood sucking? Now that’s a first.”

“Actually it’s been practiced for years,” he corrected. “I mean, think about it. You can’t just grab someone off the street and drain them dry. Who knows what kind of blood diseases they may be carrying?”

“Also, you know, there’s the whole first degree murder thing,” I added.

He laughed. “Yes. Also it’s murder,” he agreed. “And if the cops started finding a bunch of dead bodies in alleyways, drained of blood, they might start getting suspicious.”

“So…where do you get your blood then?” I asked, praying he was going to say steak bought from the local butcher. But in my heart I knew I wasn’t going to be that lucky.

“From donors,” he explained instead. “People who we contract to give regular blood donations. After a strict vetting process, of course. Lots of testing.”

“Uh, why would anyone sign up for that?”

He shrugged. “We pay very well. It’s actually quite a good part time job. Great for single moms, for example. They can set their own hours, don’t have to deal with day care.”

I let out a low whistle. They really had an answer for everything, didn’t they? “Good to know if I ever need some extra cash,” I joked. “Just open a vein and start printing money.”

To my surprise, Logan’s face fell. He gave me a disappointed look. “You still don’t believe,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Believe people are sucking other people’s blood in here?” I asked. “No. I definitely believe that. I even believe you pay them for the privilege.” I added. “Hell, I know plenty of my more…serious…fans do the whole bloodletting thing. And, honestly, it’s great to know you screen people first because I always thought it seemed like a really risky thing to do.

“But,” I continued, “Do I think these people here are actual vampires? Immortal, all-powerful creatures who need blood to survive?” I shook my head. “Sorry, but no.”

He nodded, still looking disappointed, but at the same time, not surprised. As if he expected this answer. It made me wonder, suddenly, if this was part of his overall plan. He had to know, deep down, that real vampires didn’t exist, right? And therefore he had to know he’d never actually convince me. Which meant he had to have some other motive for bringing me here. Like, maybe this was some convoluted pretense to get me out on a date. After all, he had to know there was no way I’d agree to any of this otherwise.

It was pretty brazen, if it were true. And pretty complicated, too. But then the alternative—that he actually believed in vampires? That was even more ridiculous.

I frowned, the new theory annoying me more than I wanted to admit. I mean, here I was, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. Surrounded by a bunch of freaks who got their rocks off drinking people’s blood. Was this my penance for writing the books I did? After all, my novels celebrated this kind of behavior. Made it seem cool—romantic even. But now, as I watched a couple of junkie looking teens, pale and malnourished, limp from the bloodletting rooms and collapse on the couch, I felt a little nauseated. Was I the cause of any of this?

Maybe I needed to switch to detective novels for my next book…

Logan’s gaze bore down on me. “A little too real for you?”

I winced. “Can we just…go back to the main room? I think I’ve seen enough.”

He nodded and led me out of the room, down the hall, and through the door, back into the club. By this point the music had changed. From the moody goth to a more electronic beat. Fast, driving. In other situations, I might have thought it kind of cool. Now I was too frazzled. And I found myself glancing longingly at the bar.

Logan caught my gaze. “Need a drink, huh?” he asked.

“Is it that obvious?”

He grabbed my hand, leading me over to the bar. We sat down on the stools and I ordered a Moscow Mule. He got a glass of Cabernet. I eyed his drink suspiciously as the bartender set it down in front of him.

“Is that blood?”

He laughed. “Blood of the gods,” he teased. Then he pushed his glass in my direction. “It’s wine,” he told me. “Taste it if you like.”

I leaned over to sniff his drink. Sure enough it smelled like wine. I let out a breath of relief.

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just…well, this has been a weird night.”

“I should be the one to apologize,” he said. “Dragging you out here like this.”

I waved my hand. “Honestly, it’s more interesting than that stuffy charity event. No offense.”

He laughed. A rich, deep, throaty laugh. “Fair enough.”

I bit my lower lip. “Did you…really just plan that whole thing to get my attention?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“So does email. And it doesn’t cost thirty thousand dollars.”

“I don’t do email.”

“Oh right. Cause you’re a thousand-year-old vampire. I forgot.”

He sighed. “I haven’t convinced you of anything, have I?”

I gave him a rueful look. ‘Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he said, reaching out and taking my hand in his, stroking it gently. I swallowed hard. I knew I should pull away, but at the same time it felt kind of nice. Which was crazy, but there you go.

“You don’t really think you’re a vampire, do you?” I asked. “I mean, all this was just a ruse, right? To get me to go out with you?”

He looked up, surprised. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” I paused, then added. “It makes more sense than the alternative.”

“It does,” he agreed, squeezing my hand lightly. I tried not to squirm as chills ran up and down my arms. “There’s just…something about you, Hannah. I saw it the moment you walked into that bookstore. It was the oddest feeling. Like I had to meet you.” He shrugged. “It was a very unfamiliar feeling and it irritated me greatly at first.”

“Was that why you were such an asshole?”

His mouth curled. “You thought I was an asshole?”

“Dude. You accused me of not knowing anything about vampires…or men for that matter!”

“Right.” Logan groaned. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hannah,” he said, meeting my eyes with his own. “And I’m sorry I said I didn’t like your book. Truth is, well, I actually did like it.”

My eyes widened. This, I was not expecting. “What?”

Even under the club’s dim lighting I could see his face darken to a rosy blush. “Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to hate it,” he confessed. “I really did. But it was…compelling. I don’t know how else to explain. I literally couldn’t put it down.”

A thrill of triumph spun down my spine, even though I knew it was totally petty. “You should put that in your GoodReads review,” I teased.

He laughed. “Alongside my reviews of Proust and Dostoyevsky?”

“You are such a snob.”

“And you are a good writer. Don’t let any vampire tell you differently.”

“Can I put that on the cover of my next book?”

“I insist on it.”

I grinned. “I guess you’re not such an asshole after all.”

“And yet you’re still beautiful.” Logan stood up, not letting go of my hand. “Dance with me, Hannah.”

Before I could respond, he pulled at my hand, dragging me out onto the dance floor. I stumbled after him, my mind still stuck on his last comment. Did he just call me beautiful?

“Wait!” I cried. “You never said anything about dancing,”

He stopped in his tracks. Turned to face me. His eyes were flashing with mischief. “You ran out on our last dance,” he reminded me. “You owe me.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing in my chest. I opened my mouth—to say something, anything to protest. Instead I found myself letting him take me into his arms. His strong hands gripping my waist. His eye remaining locked on me, their hold seemingly as powerful as his grip. I tried to squirm away, to put some distance between us, but somehow my body refused to obey and instead I found myself pressed up against him. My soft curves melting into his hard planes.

I placed my head on his shoulder, breathing in his warm, rich scent. He smelled like mixture of juniper and fir with a hint of something at first I couldn’t identify, but was oddly reminiscent of an ancient library. That comforting smell of books with yellowed pages. I had always loved the smell of old books. A soothing scent that reminded me of home.

What are you doing? my frenzied brain demanded. But I pushed it away. I knew it was wrong. Stupid, even. But it had been so long since I’d allowed myself to be touched. For a moment I just wanted to be like everyone else. A normal girl who didn’t shrink away from a hot guy. In that moment I didn’t want to think about vampires and what was real. I just wanted to lose myself in the moment. In the music’s driving beat. In Logan’s rich, delicious smell.

And so we danced. As if we were the only people in the room. As if this were completely normal. Completely natural. And when the song ended, we didn’t break apart. Instead, Logan reached up, brushing a lock of hair out of my eyes and it was all I could do not to collapse as the chills spun down my spine. I tried to catalog the sensations pouring through me. Stow them away to use in a book later.

For, indeed, this moment felt like a book. Though Logan was nothing like Jonathan. Sure, he resembled him physically, but at the same time he exuded a far different power, a raw masculinity that Jonathan could never hope to achieve. Jonathan was a gentleman. Logan was more of a predator. Taking what he wanted without bothering to ask permission first.

Speaking of… His eyes bore down on me, flashing with inner fire. I could have sworn they had been blue, but now they looked more like purple in the dim club lights. Cupping my face in his hands, he tilted my head up so I was forced to meet his eyes with my own. I gasped at the look of raw power I saw on his face. The lust in his gaze. He smiled greedily, then leaned in for the kill.

Or in this case, kiss.

I nearly fainted as his mouth brushed against mine. His tongue darting out, licking the seam of my lips. Chills ransacked my body, rendering me helpless in his arms.

I had written a billion kisses in my novels. I knew all the creative ways to describe tongues and mouths and lips. But this—this was something I couldn’t put into words if I tried. It was like it took over, stealing away my ability to think. And as Logan groaned against my mouth, I realized suddenly that this wasn’t a one-way street either. I was having as much an effect on him as he was on me. The thought filled me with a raw, surging sense of power. A power I hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.

“Hannah,” he moaned against my mouth. “Oh Hannah…”

It was then that I felt it. A tiny prick against my tongue. A sudden heat.

What the hell?

I jerked away, lifting my hand to my mouth as pain radiated through me, sharp and pulsing. When I pulled my hand away, I found blood pooling in my palm.

“What…?” I whispered. I looked up at Logan, confused as hell. “Did you just…bite me?” Horror coursed through me as I waited for an answer. An answer I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear.

He gave me a distraught look. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You just felt so good. I didn’t mean…”

“Oh my God. You sick fuck!” I cried, stumbling backward, putting distance between us. My mouth was stinging now, as if I’d just swallowed a gob of wasabi.

“I didn’t bite you,” Logan said, taking a cautious step toward me. “You just nicked your tongue on my fang.”

“You don’t have fangs,” I spit out. After all, I’d seen him smile half a dozen times tonight. I would have noticed if he had vampire teeth.

He gave me an apologetic look. Then he opened his mouth, baring his teeth. My eyes widened in horror as I saw two glittering fangs.

“But…but…” I stammered. “Those weren’t there! When did you put them in?” My mind raced for a moment when he could have turned away from me. Slipped them in his mouth when I wasn’t looking. But I came up blank.

Logan sighed. “They’re not always visible,” he explained. “They only come out when…” He looked sheepish. “When I…get excited.”

My face burned at his insinuation. He might have just told me I’d given him an erection. A tooth erection. My stomach wrenched and my knees practically gave out from under me. My eyes darted around the club, at all the other patrons, dressed in black, pretending to be in some kind of vampire den. This was so sick. This was truly sick. I needed to get out of here. Now.

“Hannah…”

“I have to pee!” I blurted out. The only thing I could think of at the moment—the only place he couldn’t follow. Not waiting for his reply I turned and bolted across the dance floor, as fast as my legs could carry me toward the sign that read bathroom. But when I reached it, I didn’t go inside.

I didn’t have to go. I had to get out.

The front door was in the other direction, but my eyes spotted an exit near the back of the club. For smokers, I guessed. Or for those who needed a breath of fresh air. I dove for the door, as if my life depended on it, pissing off a few patrons as I pushed past them in the process.

What had I been thinking? Agreeing to any of this? Going off to a strange place with a guy who thought he was a vampire? Agreeing to dance with him. Allowing him to kiss me. This was exactly the reason I avoided these types of establishments in the first place. So I couldn’t get myself in these situations.

If you just let me escape this, I begged silently to any higher power who might be listening. I’ll never go out again.

I pushed through the door, out into a back alley. It slammed shut behind me and I realized it was one of those doors you could leave out of, but you couldn’t get back through. Which was more than fine by me. I had no interest in returning. In running into Logan and his weird dental work again.

I leaned against the brick wall, sucking in a much needed breath. My mouth had stopped stinging, thank God, but my heart was going a mile a minute. What had happened in there? Had Logan really sprouted fangs? That was impossible, of course. But I saw no other explanation.

I will not only show you. I will convince you vampires are real.

His words echoed through my head sending a shiver down my spine. I had to admit, I was almost convinced. And yet, at the same, more confused than ever.

There was only one thing left to do. I reached into my bag and pulled out my blade.