As soon as my captor left the room, I resumed struggling. The coppery taste of the liquid lingered on my tongue, taunting me, but my brain shut down any attempt I made to analyze what it was. Every time I did, my stomach threatened to reject what I’d so happily consumed as waves of nausea and horror rolled through me.

What the hell is happening to me?

I pulled so hard at the straps, I feared I really would dislocate my arms. But it was no good. The bonds were unbreakable. No matter how much I thrashed or struggled, they wouldn’t budge. Whoever my captor was, he’d planned well for this.

Maybe I’m not the first person he’s done this to. Jesus. What happened to the others?

I let my head flop back to the bed, closing my eyes. My wrists were raw and bruised from my struggles, but I had nothing to show for it. Maybe a better option would be to play nice, to give this man whatever he wanted and hope that he’d eventually let me go.

Flashes of hot and cold washed over my skin, bathing my body in sweat and goose bumps. The hunger pangs had faded, but now it felt like there were insects crawling through my body—a strange prickling sensation that spread out through my limbs. As I wriggled uncomfortably on the plush mattress, I wished for the first time in months that I were back in Ohio.

I’d been so happy to leave, so proud of myself for picking up and starting my life over in the city I’d always dreamed about. But maybe I never should’ve come.

My apartment in Brooklyn was a tiny shithole, I was exhausted and stretched thin all the time from working two jobs, and I ate ramen at least four nights a week. But none of that had bothered me, because I was pursuing my dreams. The past eight months in New York, I’d felt more alive than I had for the nine years I’d been married to Kyle.

We’d married the summer after I graduated high school, and I had been so sure I loved him, so certain he was everything I needed in a man. But what the hell did I know? I was a kid.

And he wasn’t a man. He was a boy.

My parents had thrown a fit, but I hadn’t listened to them. I’d never been close to my father, even less so to my stepmom, so their disapproval had only bolstered my confidence that I was making the right choice marrying Kyle. They’d refused to come to our small wedding and had cut me out of their lives afterward.

Years later, as the depth and breadth of the mistake I’d made slowly began to sink in, I often picked up the phone and punched in my dad’s cell number, only to hang up before he answered. Too much time had passed, and too many harsh words had been exchanged between us, for me to turn to my parents for help and support.

So I’d gathered my courage on my own and finally told Kyle I couldn’t stay with him anymore. That I needed more than the half-life we were living together.

His lack of resistance to my request for a divorce was more heartbreaking than if he’d fought me on it. I still didn’t know if his apathetic response was because he truly didn’t care about me anymore, or because he was certain I’d fail in my attempt at a better life and come crawling back to him.

Sadness sat like a brick on my chest as I stared up at the ceiling in this unfamiliar room. My blood continued to prickle, as if all my limbs had fallen asleep. Heaviness weighed down my eyelids.

I’d wanted to prove Kyle wrong. To show him, and myself too, that I could make it in New York City. That I could achieve the daunting goals I set for myself.

I wished I had more to show for my attempts than being tied up on a stranger’s bed.

Thank God, Kyle can’t see me now.

Still shivering, I drifted into a restless sleep. Images of the shadow monster and the three beautiful men played in my mind over and over, taunting me.

Daring me to guess which were the angels and which were the devils.

When my eyes opened again, the itchy feeling in my muscles was gone.

The room looked the same as it had when I dozed off, and I realized I had no idea what time it was—or even what day it was. Had it been several hours since my attack on that dark street, or a few days? Was I even in New York anymore?

I’d become so accustomed to the constant ambient light and sound that seemed to exist almost everywhere in the city that it was strange not to sense them. This place was too dark, too quiet.

The key jiggled in the lock again, and I jumped. He was back.

I took a deep breath. Play nice, Willow. Stay calm and maybe you’ll get out of this in one piece.

The tall, broad-shouldered man stepped into the room, but this time he wasn’t alone. The other two men from my dream stepped in behind him. The first one had a shock of black hair, shaved on one side and longer on top, flopping down over his stunningly blue eyes. His lip and eyebrow were pierced, his features sharp as cut glass. He looked like a rock star, and the tattoos creeping up his neck only added to the effect.

The second one with the strange green eyes didn’t make eye contact, but I somehow felt like he was peering straight into my soul. His golden-brown hair was wavy, and he had a perfectly shaped mouth and a small dimple in his chin.

My jaw fell slack, all the threats and bargains I’d prepared dying on my tongue. These men were beautiful, otherworldly—and terrifying.

Before I could force words from my parched lips, the rock star stepped up to the side of the bed. He cast a reproachful glance over his shoulder at the tall, dark-haired one who’d visited me before, then leaned over to unwind the restraints on my wrists.

“Careful. She kicks.” The first man’s gravelly voice was dry.

“Yeah? Funny, she’s not kicking me. Maybe it’s just something about your charming personality that makes people want to kick your ass,” the rock star shot back.

A grumbling sound was the only response, but I hardly heard it. The rock star’s face was only inches from mine as he removed the restraints, giving my aching wrists some relief. His blue eyes danced with humor at my stunned expression, one corner of his mouth lifting as he stared down at me.

My breath hitched. The bright blue of his irises were so close to mine, and the smoke and clove scent of him seemed to envelop me. I blinked, trying to stop the sensation of falling into him as though gravity had somehow been reversed. I kept my eyes squeezed shut until I felt him pull away, his low chuckle lingering in my ear.

As I sat up slowly, the first man stepped forward and offered me another bag. Even though the smell made my mouth water, I shook my head. I couldn’t deny what it was any longer, and now that the pain in my body and the cramping in my stomach had eased, the rational part of my mind was taking over again.

And it wanted nothing to do with any of this.

“Suit yourself, wildcat.” He shook the bag gently. “But you’ll need to feed again before too long. Your body has been through a lot, it needs nourishment. And I’ve seen what you’re like when you’re hangry.”

My gaze whipped up to his face, startled.

Did he just… make a joke?

For a heartbeat, a ghost of a smile whispered across his face, then his dark brows pulled together again, his dour expression returning.

“No, thanks. I’ll—I’ll be fine. What happened? Why did you bring me here?” I licked my lips. “What do you want with me?”

“Nothing. Apparently.” Rock star glared at the tall, dark one, who ran a hand through his hair in irritation.

The green-eyed man tilted his head, gazing down at me. Or through me? His irises were pure white instead of black, and I wondered if he was blind. But if that were true, why did he seem to perceive so much?

“You were attacked,” he said gently.

I clenched my hands, fear sliding through me like poison. “By you?”

“No. By a shade. A dangerous supernatural creature, undead and powerful. We found you and saved you.”

The biggest man grunted, turning away from the bed. The muscles of his back bunched with tension.

Dangerous supernatural? Undead?

I forced my brain to try to process those words instead of dissolving into a gibbering mess.

“You… saved me?” I repeated dumbly.

I strained to remember anything helpful, but all I could access were flashes of the shadow monster and the three men’s faces.

Then something new sparked in my memory. A taste. Like the liquid in the bag, but hotter, more satisfying. I had drunk it and felt high for the first time in my life. I’d never done drugs, not even in high school, but I was sure the feeling I’d experienced had been better than any drug could produce. It’d been intoxicating. Addictive.

“Yeah, we did,” said the rock star. He brushed the dark lock of hair out of his eyes, but it fell back into the exact same spot. “You were in bad shape, sweetheart.”

“How did you kill that thing?” I asked.

Goose bumps ran up my arms as I recalled the hulking, shadowy creature. It had been ephemeral and yet solid, and so dark that no amount of light could illuminate it clearly.

The first man sighed, turning back to face us. “We didn’t kill it. That was our aim, but it escaped. We had to let it go to save your life. You were bleeding out on the pavement.” The line between his brows deepened. “You had minutes left.”

“How did you save me?” I asked.

A memory of claws raking down the front of my body assaulted me, and my breath hitched. I looked down at myself, searching for bandages or wounds. I was stiff and sore, but I could find no obvious signs of any attack. Except…

I narrowed my eyes, staring at my arms.

A network of fine white scars crisscrossed my skin, so faint I hadn’t noticed them earlier. They seemed to form some kind of pattern, but I had no idea what it was. Had each of these scars been a wound from the creature? How had they healed already?

The blond man sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting a hand on my ankle. I could’ve lashed my foot out and kicked him in the face, but I was feeling less and less like attacking these men. Whatever the hell was going on here, they were the only lifeline I had at the moment.

“You were too far gone for medical intervention. You’d lost so much blood. We had to turn you.” His smooth voice was almost apologetic.

The words took a moment to sink in, and when they finally did, they drilled into my brain like a hot poker.

Oh God.

This wasn’t a joke.

It wasn’t a misunderstanding.

It wasn’t a bad dream.

That opaque plastic bag I’d sucked so greedily from had been full of blood. I had drained the entire thing and liked it. I’d needed it.

I stared up into the man’s kind, sightless eyes, my heart stuttering in my chest. Helpless tears burned in my throat as every truth I thought I’d known about the world crumbled around me.

“Turn me?” I whispered. “You mean I’m a… a…”

My throat closed. The word wouldn’t come.