The moment the sun set, Nikolai bolted upright in bed.

He’d barely even woken, but already The Thirst had taken hold. The back of his throat was like someone had been stabbing him with glass, and he could barely swallow. A rage bubbled up inside him, and he knew if he didn’t get blood into him immediately, he’d rip his apartment to shreds and then go in hunt of the first human he could find. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself either. He’d drink from them, and he wouldn’t be able to stop, he’d just swallow, and swallow, and swallow until he’d drained them dry. The thought only made him want it more, so he barged his way out of his bedroom door and into the living area of his penthouse.

He drew up short. To his surprise, Ivan was sitting on his couch.

“I ...” he started, his voice like rusted metal against metal. He cleared his throat, but it did nothing to dislodge the desire to consume. “I thought you’d left last night.”

Ivan got to his feet and handed something over to him. A blood bag. Unable to think, he snatched it from Ivan’s hands and tore off the top before gulping it down. He didn’t care if he spilled any, or what he looked like, only that he needed the blood down his throat immediately.

Ivan just stood there, watching him until he’d finished. When he had, he took the empty bag and handed him a new one. Nikolai was able to consume this one with a little less desperation, but he could still feel The Thirst pecking away at his mind, urging him to seek out more.

“I couldn’t leave you like this,” Ivan said eventually. “You are my creation, after all.”

“It’s not like you to care so much.”

Ivan gave a small laugh. “You’re still my responsibility. If you go on a rampage across the city, people will look to me first.”

“I need to go back to the wolf’s club,” Nikolai said. “I need to find whoever that scent belonged to.” It had been the only moment his mind had been calm since The Thirst had struck.

His maker nodded. “As much as it pains me to say, I agree with you. Finding your Bloodmate is the only way we’re going to make this stop.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Ivan pointed to something on Nikolai’s shirt. “You may want to change first.”

He glanced down to see spatters of red across the material from when he’d been in such a rush to devour that he hadn’t cared that he’d spilled some. “Dammit.”

Using his vampire’s speed, he whisked back into his bedroom, changed his blue shirt for a black one, figuring at least the black wouldn’t show up any more blood—because he was certain there would be more blood—and then rejoined Ivan at the front door.

Within minutes, they were back in the car, with Nikolai driving. His fingers were tight around the steering wheel, his knuckles even whiter than normal. London traffic wasn’t great, but at least it wasn’t rush hour. The club was located in Mile End, so not too far from the Docklands, but even the twenty minute drive was going frustratingly slowly. He was tempted to dump the vehicle and run the rest, but he didn’t know if he’d need the transport on the other end when he found whoever the scent belonged to. Plus, they tried to look and act as human as possible, and after the show he’d put on at the club last night, he didn’t think arriving at his vampire’s speed would earn him any favours.

His nostrils flared, his olfactory senses igniting. The scent already caught him before he’d even pulled the car over. He barely bothered to park, just pulled up against the curb and climbed out.

“Nikolai!”

Ivan called after him, but Nikolai didn’t as much as pause. He was in its grasp again, that glorious scent of vanilla, and cut grass, and clean skin. He’d been terrified the owner of the scent would have left while he’d been sleeping through the day, but she hadn’t. She was still here, he was sure of it, and he would find her even if it meant tearing this entire place to pieces.

Because it was still early, the club wasn’t fully open yet. There weren’t the lines of people waiting outside to get in, and though he could hear music, it wasn’t the ear-bashing thump thump thump of the previous night.

“She’s this way,” he called to Ivan. “I can scent her on the air.”

It drew him in, pulling him like an invisible cord, pulling him tighter and tighter. I’m coming for you. He tried to send his thoughts out to her, even though he knew such a thing was ridiculous. In fact, he hadn’t given any thought to how this woman was going to react when a half-century old vampire appeared in front of her and informed her he was her Bloodmate, and she was his.

The two vampires whisked through the club, with Nikolai leading the way. He was literally following his nose. The staff preparing the club for opening looked up at them in surprise as they passed through. Someone called out, “hey,”, but they both ignored the shout. There was no sign of Deacon Thorn or any of the other wolves who’d been present the previous night.

Nikolai left the main part of the club and entered the rear corridor. The scent of his Bloodmate grew stronger, and he picked up his pace, knowing he was getting closer. His pulse raced in anticipation.

He reached a door which opened out onto a set of concrete steps leading down. Nikolai didn’t even pause to glance back and see if Ivan was following. He was caught up in the euphoria of finding her, the feeling drowning out the taint of The Thirst that had been eating him away since the previous night. The nearer he got to her, the less he was aware of The Thirst and the more he was swept up in his need to be near her.

The stairs led to a network of low-ceilinged corridors. Nikolai raced through them, ignoring doors and turnings he knew wouldn’t lead to her.

Finally, he reached the end of a corridor and came to a halt. An iron gate divided him from what appeared to be a store cellar. Behind the bars, a beautiful woman stared back at him with wide, dark eyes. She was dressed as though she was going to a ball—a fairytale princess in a Grimm situation.

“You’re the vampire,” she said, as though she had been expecting him.

He nodded. “Yes, I am.”

Confusion flitted across her face. “But ... but ... I heard your voice in my head.”

It was his turn to be confused. “You did? How?”

“I was hoping you might be able to answer that.”

From beside him, Ivan called out a warning. “You might want to hurry things along, Nikolai. The wolves are coming.”

Nikolai nodded and turned back to the bars. A chain linked them together, and he took hold of it and, using his vampire strength, tore the chain links apart. The door swung open.

He put out his arms to her. “Come on.”

But she took a step back. “No, I won’t go with you.”

“You’d prefer to stay here, locked up with the werewolves?”

She looked left and right, as though unsure what she was supposed to be doing.

“The wolves are coming,” Ivan called.

“Don’t they know you’re here?” she asked. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

Nikolai shook his head. “No, it’s better that they don’t. I have a feeling they wouldn’t much like it.”

“Did you rip them off?”

He looked to her, confused. “What? No.”

Ivan hissed back at them. “Now isn’t the time for questions. We have to go.”

“What are you doing locked up here?” he asked her.

“The wolves kidnapped me. They threw a bag over my head, and taped my wrists together, and brought me here. But this part... this wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I mean... it wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“No, me either.”

Already he could feel her presence soothing the fire that had been raging through his veins.

“But it’s okay now. You’re safe. I’ll make sure you stay safe with every fibre of my being.”

“This is crazy,” she whispered.

He grinned at her. “Yeah, it really is.”

Nikolai grabbed her by the hand. Touching her sent his nerve endings firing, directing both to his heart and his cock. He’d only been in this exquisite creature’s presence for mere moments, and yet already he felt joined to her. She was far smaller than he was, yet perfectly proportioned, and in that dress she looked like she should be the doll in a music box, or positioned on the top of a cake. But he also saw the spark in her dark eyes and instinctively understood that no matter how perfect she looked, she’d never be a woman who’d allow herself to be displayed in such a way.

He tugged her back down the corridor. Footsteps came pounding towards them. He knew he was putting Ivan in an incredibly difficult position if they came face to face and were forced to fight. His maker was still tied to the wolves, and fighting with them directly would surely put an end to his romance with Deacon’s daughter.

“Go that way,” he told Ivan, pushing him out in the direction of the club. “Pretend you’re here to talk to Deacon. Distract them.”

Ivan shot him a glance, but nodded. It might not work, but it would be better than going into this with only bloodshed planned.

“Come on,” he told the young woman, pulling her in the opposite direction. This place was a rabbit warren of corridors and exits. If they moved swiftly, they might be lucky enough to avoid everyone. Though he believed he’d be able to take down the wolves if it came to a one-on-one fight, he preferred to be more civilised about the matter.

He yanked her back against the wall, pressing their bodies flat as someone else ran past, obviously hurrying to see what all the fuss was about. As soon as they’d gone, he pulled her back out again, and they continued to run.

They reached a fire exit, and he pressed the metal bar across the middle to open the door. Thankfully, no alarms sounded, though he’d been tensed for the wail, half-expecting it.

“My car is this way.”

He wished he’d thought to park the vehicle in a better position, not liking that he was going to have to pull her out onto the main street to reach the car. He also felt bad that he was leaving Ivan, though the other vampire was far older and stronger than he was. Besides, Ivan had been the one to get them involved with the wolves in the first place. If it hadn’t been for him, none of this might be happening.

And he’d have never met his Bloodmate ...

He didn’t know if he should be thanking Ivan, or killing him.

It was impossible for them to not draw attention, with him in his black shirt and suit trousers, and her in her deep red dress, running through the streets. Her heels clicked on the pavement, and the layers of her dress flowed out behind her, together with her dark hair. She kept glancing over her shoulder, and he guessed she was expecting the wolves to chase after them.

Thankfully, he’d pocketed the keys when he’d parked. You couldn’t leave your car with the keys in the ignition in this part of London—hell, any part of London—and expect it to still be there when you returned. He hit the button on the key fob to unlock the doors, and opened the passenger door for her, before darting around to the driver’s side and climbing behind the wheel.

They both pulled the doors shut with a slam.

She sat in the passenger seat, gasping for breath. He couldn’t help noticing the way the swell of her breasts rose and fell with each ragged inhale and exhale. Her skin was a golden hue, so unlike his pale complexion, and his fingers itched to trace the curve of each swell that peeped from the top of her dress.

But there was no time for that. He slammed the car into reverse and stamped down on the accelerator. He enjoyed speed, and reversing in high speed into on-coming traffic didn’t faze him. Other cars honked their horns in annoyance, but he was able to manoeuvre down a side alley, then he shoved the gear back into first and took off, back in the direction of his penthouse.

Leaving the club behind him, he was finally able to relax a fraction. He hoped Ivan was all right. The other vampire normally knew how to look after himself, and he was a smooth enough talker. If he couldn’t talk his way out of it, he’d use some of his vampire strength to fight his way out, but Nikolai knew that would be a last resort. Ivan still had ties to Deacon Thorn, and he wouldn’t want to burn those bridges completely.

Nikolai glanced over at the young woman sitting beside him.

“I don’t know your name.”

At the sound of his voice, she looked in his direction. Her expression looked strained, the cords on her throat standing out, her full lips tight, her jaw rigid.

“Lauren,” she said. “My name’s Lauren.”

“I’m Nikolai Petrov. I’m sorry we had to meet in such a way.”

Her small, blunt teeth dug into her full lower lip. “I have to admit, it wasn’t quite how I expected things to play out.”

That was the second thing she’d said that confused him. “You weren’t?”

“No. I was expecting it to be a little more ... formal.” She shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve ever done this sort of thing before. But I wasn’t expecting you to be the one whose voice I’d been hearing inn my head.”

He frowned over at her. “You heard my voice? When?”

“Yesterday. I heard it first then. But then I heard it again before you arrived just now.”

“You’re sure it was mine?”

The briefest hint of a smile touched her lips before it vanished again. “Yeah, I’m sure. Your accent is kind of distinctive.”

“I don’t have an accent.” After all these years living in England, he’d truly thought he’d managed to teach himself to speak without one.

She laughed this time. “Yes, you do.”

If thinking he didn’t have an accent was something that coaxed a laugh out of her, then he didn’t give a damn about the accent. Her laugh was the best thing he’d ever heard.

“We’re almost there,” he told her.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to my home.”

The tall towers of Canary Wharf loomed into the sky up ahead. He took a couple of turnings, navigating his way back to his place. Automatic gates on the car park opened to let them through. He pulled into his reserved space, and they climbed out. Nikolai took her hand again and led her towards the front door of the building. He wanted to get her up to his penthouse as quickly as possible. There was a good chance Deacon would send someone after her. He still didn’t know why the werewolf had Lauren locked up in the cellar beneath his club, but he was pretty sure it would be for no good reason. If she meant something to him, he wouldn’t just let this rest. There might have been security cameras in the place which would have caught him pulling Lauren out of there, and that would be plenty proof enough for him to work out who had taken her. There wasn’t much chance of a wolf being able to get up here without a key to work the private lift, but Nikolai knew Deacon would come after her. He didn’t want to feel like they would be prisoners in this place until Deacon was taken care of, but he had the feeling that was how it was going to go.

In the foyer, he pulled Lauren—her hand still in his, as though he couldn’t stand the thought of them not touching for even the briefest of seconds—towards his private lift. He used his key to unlock the panel, and then called down the car. Within seconds, the door slid open with a ping, and Nikolai pulled her inside.

The walls were glass, so her beauty was reflected back at him from every angle. She was far shorter than he was, but the way she held herself told him that she wasn’t someone to be messed with.

He couldn’t help himself, however. He slipped his hand to her face, his thumb tracing the lines of her jaw.

She gazed up at him with those dark eyes. “I don’t understand why I’m not screaming and running from you right now.”

He didn’t want to launch into the whole Bloodmate thing just yet, frightened the intensity of it would send her running. Instead, he used the thing she’d told him. “I think it has something to do with you being able to hear my thoughts.”

She nodded. “Yes, and ... I feel like I know you from somewhere already. Like maybe we were children together who grew up and lost touch.”

He chuckled. “Only if you also happened to be a child over seventy years ago.”

She stared up at him. “Is that how old you are?”

“Yes, comparatively young for a vampire, but old for a human.”

“It’s kind of weird to think of you as being that old.”

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty.”

A slow smile spread across his lips. “Then it’s kind of weird you being so young.”

She gave a small laugh. “Yes, I guess it must be. Like a May-to-December thing.”

He frowned, not understanding. “A what?”

“That’s what they call an older man and a younger woman. A May-to-December relationship.”

Something warmed inside him at the idea that she’d already thought of them as having a relationship.

The lift door slid open and they stepped out and into his penthouse.