The noise of the bar overwhelmed Marcus at first. His sensitive ears took a moment to adjust to the loud voices all around him.

The voice on the other end of the phone call had told him an address and time to meet but offered up no more information. All thoughts of spending a nice night alone with Gena had been tossed out the window.

He was already pissed enough at these rebels for fucking with his life, and now that they were potentially cock blocking him, he was going to find it hard to hide his disdain.

He was unsure how to play his role. He had a reputation of being a savvy politician who was out for himself first and foremost, which was why he was an ideal target for the rebels to convert to their side. Because of Marcus’s selfish side, he was also known as a bit of an asshole.

If he was too nice to the men he was meeting with tonight, they could get suspicious and kill him. If he was too much of a bastard, they could get angry and kill him.

Neither of those were exactly ideal. Marcus grimaced.

In addition to the loud voices and music, the dimly lit bar was also filled with smoke. Whoever these men were, they knew what they were doing. He was already having a hard time hearing, and the smoke impaired his vision and his sense of smell.

However, the smoke did give him one piece of valuable information. New York City had a smoking ban in public places. Although it was common enough for one or two customers in the seedier bars to ignore the ban and light up whenever, this amount of smoke wasn’t caused by one or two people. Almost everyone in the bar had smoked one or two cigarettes to get this amount of smoke to fill the rooms.

It was possible that everyone in the bar decided to say “fuck you” to the ban and have a smoke, but Marcus thought it was much more likely they were “convinced” to smoke by one of the rebels. Meaning at least one of the men he was meeting here tonight was a pure born.

He frowned at the idea. Someone who had to do as much boozing and schmoozing as he did knew a lot of people and vampires, and he prided himself on knowing, or at least knowing of, every pure born.

He knew there were trusted vampires working with the rebels, but he was uneasy at the idea of there being even more traitors right under his nose.

He looked around through the smoke-filled room. The voice commanding him to meet here had neglected to give any direction about what to do or who to look for once he got there.

He saw a lot of big, tall, and gruff-looking men, but none were vampires. Apparently he was supposed to play a waiting game. Fine with him. He could use a drink. He would prefer type O, but whiskey could do in a pinch.

He nursed his drink slowly. He knew someone was watching him. Someone had been at the bar earlier in the night to control all the patrons to talk loudly and smoke. It would make no sense for them to leave and come back later. They were scouting him out.

A few whiskeys later and almost to the point of pulling out his phone and playing Sudoku, the men he was meeting finally made themselves known.

The first man was a familiar face, but not the one Marcus was expecting. It was one of the men he’d met last night in the alley. The one who had tossed him the phone.

“You look lonely,” the man said with a raspy voice. “Come join our table.”

Marcus gave a slight nod of agreement and followed the man. He was tall, a little taller than Marcus, so probably almost six and a half feet of vampire. Dark tattoos covered most of the man’s exposed face and neck.

That in itself was puzzling. Because vampires didn’t age, they avoided identifying marks like tattoos. It was worrisome that this one seemed to not care whether people noticed him.

The table he was led to sat two other men. One looked very similar to the man he was following and the other was different.

He had no tattoos covering his face, but he seemed more menacing than the other two men. Where the other two had unkempt hair and messy clothes, this man was put together with purpose. He had dark hair, like the other two, but his was neatly slicked back and his face was clean shaven.

Although the other two men looked as though they had found their large jackets in the trash, this man’s jacket looked as though it had cost at least two grand—or he’d taken it from a man who had paid that much.

Marcus would know. He had one just like it.

Marcus took his seat and let it sink in that he didn’t recognize any of the three vampires in front of him. “You like to make a guy sweat, don’t you?” he asked the three.

The two messy ones looked to the vampire in the middle and said nothing. It was obvious who was in charge. “I like to know who I’m dealing with,” said the leader.

“I guess you have me at an advantage then, seeing that I know jack shit about you.”

The leader simply smiled at the comment. It was the eerie calm of a man who knew if he gave the slightest hint of discomfort, Marcus would be dead by the hands of those two goons.

“I am Rok,” he said. “These are my men, Kilk and Goff.”

Even though Marcus had names, they did nothing to help him figure out who these men were. They didn’t ring any bells, and considering how unique they were, he should’ve recognized them. Even more puzzling was the accent of the two men he’d heard speak so far. It had a hint of Eastern European, but Marcus could not recall hearing it before.

“I assume you want something from me,” said Marcus.

Rok casually took a sip of his drink. Through the clear glass, Marcus saw a dark red liquid. “I believe you hold enough power with your peers that your insights and abilities could prove useful to me.”

Marcus nodded. “What exactly makes you think I’d want to be ‘useful’ to you? We might have a common enemy in Aleksander, but I don’t need your help to kill him.”

Rok met Marcus’s eyes across the table. “I know you. I am you. I know exactly what it’s like to give all of your time, energy, and devotion to your king. And what do you get in return? Kicked out of the kingdom for imagined crimes. You might be able to kill Aleksander whenever you want, but it will not be a secret who the culprit is. Your own people thought you wanted him dead even before your latest altercation. What will they think if he ends up dead now?”

It was an interesting angle they were working. They were depending on his sense of betrayal to sway him to their cause—whatever the hell that cause was. “The Council will think I killed Aleksander. Even if you find some other flunky to help you assassinate the king, everyone will still think I did it.”

“You’re right about what they’ll think, but you are mistaken about a few other things. We’re not looking for a flunky in you. We are looking for a partner. And while we do intend to kill Aleksander, that’s not our endgame. Our intent is to replace him.”

“Who are you going to replace him with?” asked Marcus.

Rok leaned back in his chair and regarded Marcus. “I have to have some secrets.”

You won’t have any left by the time I’m done with you, thought Marcus. “So please clarify; why do you expect me to help you?”

“I can promise you one thing. I can promise that in the very near future, Aleksander will be dead. I can also promise you that in the near future, you will still be ostracized from your own people you have served for centuries. Join me and we can give you the one thing you crave. Power.”

Power? Marcus didn’t crave power. It came naturally to him. He knew how to play people and read them like no other. He didn’t need Rok or anyone else giving him anything. Instead of pointing that out, Marcus asked, “Aleksander always travels with armed guards. He is even more paranoid after he found out you turned one of his most trusted men against him. What makes you so sure you can get to him without me?”

Rok waved his hand in front of him in a dismissive gesture. “He has a few guards. That’s nothing. I have an entire army at my command. Aleksander doesn’t stand a chance.”

An army of vampires? How the hell could anyone amass an army of vampires without any of the monarchy or Council knowing about it? “If you don’t need me to help you take out Aleksander, what do you need me for?”

“Need is a very strong word,” stressed Rok. “You are, or at least were, a trusted member of this Council. Once chaos comes down, the remaining people will need guidance from a trusted face. Your high rank with your people and your current state of disgrace make you a prime candidate. I assure you that in return for your assistance, you will be rewarded far beyond your wildest dreams.”

“You don’t know my dreams,” pointed out Marcus.

Rok shrugged. “All you need to do is ask. Kilk told me you had a pretty young mortal you were protecting last night. Is she part of your dreams?”

Marcus felt his muscles tense up at the mention of Gena but tried to show no outward signs of his distress.

“We can get you twenty more like her. Your own harem.”

Marcus didn’t want a harem of women. He could already have anyone he wanted. He just wanted Gena. He must’ve taken too long to respond because Rok continued, “Do you have feelings for the human? Is that why you kept her from Kilk and Goff?”

Marcus planted the coldest expression he could muster on his face. “I don’t fucking care about the girl. She tastes amazing, does things in bed even I have never heard of, and I don’t share with two fuckwads I met in an alley. I’ll let you have her when I’m done, but I haven’t used her up yet.” Satisfied he sounded heartless enough, Marcus switched topics. “What kind of power can you offer?”

His harsh works must’ve made Rok happy because a smile lit his face. “I do love inventive women. Maybe I’ll have to have a go at her.”

Marcus took a deep breath to keep his barely contained temper in check. “If you’re so keen to have my leftovers, go for it.”

Marcus’s and Rok’s eyes met over the table in a silent power play. Marcus could tell Rok was trying to gauge his attachment to Gena, and Marcus was waiting to see whether Rok was about to kill him.

Marcus must’ve passed the test because Rok broke eye contact first and took another long drink. He slammed his empty glass on the table. “That’s some really good stuff,” he said to Marcus. “It’s a shame I don’t have more. Those blood banks are just so hard to get a contact with if you are a stranger.”

Marcus wasn’t sure where this was going, but he had a bad feeling.

“I need you to get us some more blood, Marcus.”

“From a blood bank?” asked Marcus.

Rok shook his head. “No. I want you to get us some more blood right now. In this bar.”

Bad feeling confirmed. Marcus looked over his shoulder at all of the unsuspecting people around him. “Any preference?”

Rok looked pensive as his gaze wandered over the possible victims. One hand reached out and pointed a long finger to a man sitting at the table behind them. “That one.”

Marcus’s eyes turned death black as he turned to face his prey.

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Gena was beginning to feel claustrophobic. Sure, Marcus had a huge place, but knowing she was unable to leave just amplified the trapped feeling she’d been fighting off since he dropped her off and left for his meeting with the rebels.

She understood his reasoning, but that didn’t help her either. With this possible vampire rebellion on the horizon, it was best if as few people saw her out and about as possible.

It addition, Ryan could still be out there, looking for her. In a crazy sort of reasoning, she understood where Ryan was coming from. He had no reason to murder her in the first place, but he did see her new body right next to her dead one.

When he shot her down the night before, he’d called her a demon and accused her of killing the “old” Gena. Although she was still pissed at him for killing her twice, she might think she was a demon too if she were in his position. It was the original murder she could never forgive.

She shuddered at the harsh memories. Though her murder was just days ago, the whole experience seemed as though it was in the distant past. Everything was so different now; everything from her old life seemed as if it had happened years ago.

A part of her heart mourned the loss of her old life. The scary part was that she was so much calmer about the situation now than she’d been when first talking to Hope. She had what could almost be called friends to help her find her answers. She had a (really nice) roof over her head and a way to make temporary income.

What might be scaring her more than anything was that the further she got pulled into the strange world, the less she missed her old one. Sure, she’d rather be in the comfort of her own home, but how could she ever go into her kitchen again after what had happened there? She liked being a nurse and helping people at the hospital, but with her new resources and abilities, surely she could find better ways to help.

Her parents and Joy were the biggest holes in her life that she didn’t know what to do without, but who said she could never see them again? Her parents surely loved her enough to get past whatever was happening to her and, with Hope’s help, she was sure Joy would take Gena’s transformation in stride.

Hope had called earlier in the evening, while Gena and Marcus were still out. The funeral for Gena was the next day. She couldn’t bear the thought of her friends and family hurting over her supposed death.

Hope had assured her that everyone was doing as well as possible under the circumstances. Police picked up Ryan’s prints at her home but hadn’t found him yet.

Restlessness drove Gena to stand up and do another lap around the penthouse. She was used to being on her feet all day and then going for a walk with Lady. The few hours walking around the city earlier with Marcus were not enough to release her pent-up energy. She’d tried reading a book to distract herself but couldn’t get into the story with so much on her mind, and the television couldn’t hold her attention either.

Lady had loyally followed her around the apartment the first ten or twenty laps, but now the dog just stared at her every time she’d randomly hop off the sofa and start to walk.

And why would the dog understand her frustration? Lady was at least allowed to leave. The doorman came up once every two hours to take Lady for a walk around the block. Gena only guessed what kind of tips Marcus left to get that kind of service at four in the morning.

Halfway through her latest lap around the penthouse, she heard a key turn in the door. She looked up expectantly and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Marcus come in. Completely of their own accord, her lips formed a huge smile at seeing him returning safe.

“I was going crazy here alone,” she said. “How did everything go?”

Marcus didn’t return the smile. His eyes briefly met hers before he averted his gaze. He rushed past her. “It could’ve been better.”

Gena’s face fell as she followed him. “What went wrong?”

With his back still facing her, he said, “I will discuss it with you next evening.”

She was taken aback. She was here to help him. He couldn’t just brush her off like that. She followed him upstairs. As he walked into the master bathroom and started to shut the door in her face, she stuck her arm in to stop the door from shutting.

“Gena!” he screamed as he turned to face her.

He grabbed her arm and pushed her backward. Her free hand struggled to get his grip off her wrist. As she struggled, she yelled back, “You left me alone all night and now you’re going to ignore—”

Her words were cut off as she noticed the large splotch of red marring his white shirt. “Are you okay?” she breathed. “Where are you hurt?”

As she calmed down, he loosened his grip on her. Her nurse’s instinct took over she reached up to spread the collar of his shirt and look for the wound.

His reaction was so fast, it was all a blur. She heard a muttered curse and then he was grabbing her again. This time, instead of pushing her away, he pulled her into the bathroom. “What are you doing?” he shot at her.

Wordless from being moved so fast, she said nothing as he flooded the sink with hot water. He grasped her hands and thrust them under the flowing water.

“What are you doing?” she asked in confusion.

She glanced up and caught his eyes in the mirror. He usually looked so calm and collected. Now his eyes had a wild glint to them. Her gaze traveled lower, to the skin she’d bared at the base of his neck and top of his chest. Though the red stain was still staring at her, she saw no marks on his skin.

“Whose blood is that?” She’d worked in a hospital long enough to know what blood looked like. She met his eyes again and saw guilt staring back at her. “What did you do?”

He said nothing as he reached for the soap and vigorously scrubbed her hands clean. She realized he was trying to wash any blood she’d touched off her hands. She ripped away from his grip. “Answer me! Whose blood is on your shirt?” she demanded.

His jaw clenched and the look of guilt was replaced with steel resolve. “I had to prove myself,” was all he said.

Her head spun. “Isn’t that why I’m here? I can’t die!”

He shook his head. “Even if we could guarantee you would come back again, this was going to go the way they planned. If these men aren’t stopped, thousands will die. If one has to die in order for that to stop, so be it.”

Gena backed away from him. “What is the point of me being here, if I can’t help you? If I can’t save people?

“How can you just murder someone?” she yelled. She regretted the question instantly.

If it was even possible, his jaw clenched tighter. He left her in the bathroom and walked wordlessly into the bedroom and stripped off his shirt.

“I didn’t mean ‘murder.’” She moved to the doorway of the bathroom to watch him.

“What do you think is a better word for it?” asked a bitter Marcus.

“They would’ve killed you, right? They probably killed someone last night. And the night before that. They do need to be stopped.”

“Are you trying to reason this away until you make it right?” he asked with a sardonic tone.

“It might not be right, but it’s not wrong either.”

Marcus threw the shirt he was fumbling with on the floor in frustration and turned to her with a growl. Gena had the urge to back away but stood her ground as he approached her. When he was mere inches away, she had to crane her neck back to look up at him. She could feel the heat of his body through her clothes but still refused to give up any ground.

“Listen carefully,” he said softly. “I don’t need your acceptance or your forgiveness. I don’t need jack shit from you right now. This wasn’t the first human I’ve killed and he won’t be the last. I am a vampire.” He moved another inch closer to her and leaned his face close to her ear. “Now get out of my face.” His warm breath brushed across her cheek as he whispered the words.

Gena refused to let herself be intimidated by him. “I don’t know what you’ve done in the past, but I know I can help you with this—”

His mouth crashed down on hers. The force of it caused her to lose her balance, and she wrapped her arms around his big shoulders. He must’ve taken it as an invitation, as he cupped her face with his hands and tilted for better access.

She opened for him and his tongue swiftly plunged into her mouth. A moan escaped her throat as she gave in and kissed him back. She wrapped her arms tighter around him and pulled his body as close as she could while her own tongue met his.

His hands moved from her face to run down the curve of her waist. They slipped under the hem of her shirt and rested on the bare skin at the small of her back. The feel of his warm hands on her skin just set her off even more. She rubbed herself against him and was rewarded with the feel of his hard erection against her stomach.

The hands on her waist held her tight as he lifted her off her feet. Without ever breaking the kiss, he turned her around and they fell on the bed together. He landed on top of her, and  she parted her legs for him automatically.

He ground himself into her, and she broke the kiss as her back arched and a moan emerged from her lips. He reached for her top and lifted it over her head.

She was shamelessly helping him undress her when a loud beeping interrupted them from across the room.

They both froze in place as the noise continued. Gena’s chest rose and fell with her deep breaths, and even Marcus seemed to be breathing heavily. He stared down at her with his black eyes; his fangs poked out of his bottom lip. When had that happened?

Finally he gave a grunt of aggravation as he pushed off her and grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jacket he’d left on the sofa in the room. “What?” he bit out.

Gena couldn’t focus on the words of his conversation. She was too shocked by what had happened, or almost happened. She pulled her shirt down and stood from the bed as quickly as possible. What had she done? Just hours before, she’d told him she wouldn’t be doing this, and there she was sprawled on his bed and tearing at his clothes...

While he was still talking, she crossed to leave the room. When she was almost home free, his arm reached out and he tapped her on the shoulder. “Wait,” he mouthed.

Unable to think of a good reason not to, she turned back to pace in front of the sitting area. After another minute, he hung up and turned back to her.

To her amazement, he never even addressed what just happened between them. Instead, he said, “Good news. Vlad located a psychic for you. She should be here tomorrow night. Well, tonight if you consider that it’s four in the morning.”

Gena felt a mix of emotions. She was happy that as soon as tomorrow she might be finding out what was happening to her, but she didn’t know whether she wanted to know.

“That’s great,” she said.

Marcus nodded. “I’m going to take a shower. When I’m done, we can watch a movie or something, okay?”

Gena stared at him, dumbfounded. That was it? A movie? “Okay,” was all she said. Sure, she didn’t want to talk about it, but pretending it never happened almost seemed worse. So if she had to watch a movie with him to avoid that awkwardness, then that was what she’d do.