The moment Claire and Liam walked into Riley's Café holding hands, Scarlett felt like the ground beneath her had disappeared. The world seemed to slow down, each second stretching into an eternity. Claire's eyes immediately locked with hers, a smug satisfaction dancing in their depths - this was exactly what she'd planned. Liam looked nervous, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the café menu. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool air conditioning. "So," he started awkwardly, his voice cracking slightly, "how's your day been?" The attempt at small talk was painfully artificial, like he was trying too hard to sound normal. Claire leaned in close to him, her hand resting possessively on his arm. "Isn't this a lovely café?" she chirped, her sweetness dripping with a poison so thick Scarlett could almost taste it. Her eyes never left Scarlett, watching her reaction like a predator observing its prey.They both sat down opposite her, each a contrast to the other. Claire postur
That night, Scarlett slipped into lucid dreaming with a heart heavy as lead but burning with fierce determination. Her pain and humiliation from earlier had crystallized into something harder, something dangerous. As she traveled down the familiar path to lucid dreaming, she felt different - more focused, more intent. Suddenly, a familiar presence tugged at her consciousness. Before she could even orient herself, she felt herself being pulled through the dream space, like being swept away by an invisible current. The white-haired vampire - she realized with a start that she still didn't even know his name. When her vision cleared, she found herself in a place unlike anything she'd seen before. Gone were the familiar school hallways of her usual dreams. Instead, she stood in what looked like an ancient library, but one that defied physics. Bookshelves stretched endlessly upward, some floating in mid-air. Staircases twisted impossibly, leading to platforms that shouldn't exist. The ai
Scarlett woke up with her head throbbing, feeling like someone had taken a hammer to her temples. Her entire body ached, muscles protesting as if she'd spent the night running instead of sleeping. The dream training with Lucien felt impossibly vivid, more memory than dream.As she stretched, working out the strange exhaustion that seemed to have settled into her bones, the unexpected sound of humming drifted up from downstairs, accompanied by the smell of pancakes and coffee.Humming? Her mom never hummed anymore. Not since...Scarlett glanced around instinctively as she made her way down the stairs, checking for the usual signs of her father's presence - empty bottles, scattered papers, the lingering smell of cheap whiskey. Nothing. The knot in her chest loosened slightly.Her mom stood at the stove, still humming as she flipped pancakes with practiced ease. There was something different about her this morning - a lightness in her movements that Scarlett hadn't seen in months, maybe
"You can take the seat next to..." Mr. Peterson began scanning the room, but Lucien was already moving, his steps eerily graceful as he made his way through the maze of desks. Straight toward Scarlett. Her eyes widened in horror as she realized his destination. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. She caught his eye, subtly but frantically shaking her head, trying to gesture toward at least five other empty seats scattered around the room. But Lucien just smiled that infuriating, knowing smile and slid into the chair next to her like he'd always belonged there. "Oh. My. God." Claire's voice carried across the room, each word dripping with false sympathy. "Of all the seats he could pick... Someone should really warn him about sitting next to the class stalker. She might get... attached. We all know how that ends up." Her friends dissolved into practiced giggles. Ava leaned forward, making sure to flutter her eyelashes as she twirled a strand of perfectly styled hair. "There's a
Claire stood frozen, her perfectly manicured nails digging into Liam's arm as she stared at Lucien. The contrast was stark - painfully so. Next to Lucien's sophisticated presence, Liam suddenly seemed... childish. His East Haven uniform, which she'd thought looked so mature and prestigious moments ago, now appeared rumpled and boyish. Where Liam had the awkward energy of a typical teenager, Lucien carried himself with an almost predatory grace, every movement fluid and controlled. She caught herself making these comparisons and quickly tightened her hold on Liam, though her eyes kept drifting back to Lucien's tall figure. Even the way he wore their regular school uniform made it look like designer clothing. Liam noticed her wandering attention, his jaw tightening slightly. He shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. Around them, the crowd of students buzzed with shocked whispers. "Did he just say he's with Scarlett?" "No way. Look at him and look at her..." "Maybe he's her co
In a dimly lit throne room, shadows danced across ancient stone walls. Thick velvet curtains in deep crimson hung from towering windows, blocking out most of the daylight. Medieval tapestries depicting scenes of battle and conquest adorned the walls, their colors still vivid despite their age. Ornate chandeliers cast flickering light across the polished marble floor, their flames reflecting off golden accents that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly glow. Upon an intricately carved throne of black wood and gold, a man sat lost in thought. Though he appeared no older than twenty-seven, there was an ancient quality to his perfectly sculpted features. His skin was pale as moonlight, his gray eyes holding centuries of secrets. Long fingers drummed against the armrest as he contemplated. "What game are you playing, Lucien?" he murmured to the empty room. "After all this time in self exile, why reveal yourself now? And for a human girl..." He leaned forward, gray eyes narrowing. "Cou
"Please," Scarlett whispered, her fingers trembling as they wrapped around Lucien's wrist. His skin felt like ice beneath her touch, and she could feel the inhuman strength in his arm as he held her father aloft. "He's my dad." Lucien's head snapped toward her, his gray eyes nearly black with rage. "Your father?" His voice was a dangerous whisper. "This drunk who reeks of cheap perfume and cheaper alcohol? Who was about to strike his own daughter?" Her father's face was turning an alarming shade of purple, his legs kicking weakly in the air. Scarlett's heart hammered against her ribs. "Please," she begged. "I know he's terrible, but... please don't kill him." Something in her voice seemed to reach him. With a sound of disgust, Lucien released his grip. Her father crumpled to the ground in an unconscious heap, his breathing ragged but steady. Lucien turned to her, the murderous rage in his eyes softening as he took in her shaken state. "Let me walk you home." Scarlett wrapped
Lucian pressed his back against the cool wall outside the bathroom, his enhanced senses picking up every little sound Scarlett made as she hesitated inside. A smirk played across his lips as he remembered their conversation from moments ago. Now, standing outside, he could hear every rustle of fabric as she finally gave in to the inevitable. The soft thud of her hoodie hitting the floor. The whisper of her shirt being pulled over her head. His vampire senses betrayed him, bringing her scent to him in waves – a delicate mixture of rain, earth, and something uniquely Scarlett that made his throat tighten. When the last pieces of clothing – her bra and underwear – hit the tile floor, Lucian had to physically shake his head to clear it. *What are you doing?* he chided himself. *Acting like some green boy who's never seen a woman before.* But that was the problem, wasn't it? He hadn't been with anyone since her. Since the betrayal that had torn his world apart. His thoughts darkened
Morning light streamed through the kitchen window, painfully bright to Scarlett's exhausted eyes. She hadn't slept a wink after the incident with the blood message and Lucien's cryptic words. Instead, she'd spent the remaining hours of darkness huddled in her bedroom with every light switched on, jumping at every creak and groan of the house settling. The distant sound of a key turning in the front door lock made Scarlett's heart skip a beat before she remembered—it was just her mother returning from her night shift. With a deep breath, she pushed herself up from the kitchen table where she'd been nursing a cup of cold coffee and went to greet her. "Mom?" Scarlett called softly, making her way to the entryway. Her mother looked up as she hung her coat on the hook by the door, seeming startled by Scarlett's presence. "Sweetheart! You're up early." She tilted her head, studying Scarlett's face. "Goodness, you look exhausted. Trouble sleeping?" Scarlett managed a weak nod, her eyes d
Night had fallen by the time Scarlett made it home, the house dark and empty. Her mother's night shift had already begun, leaving Scarlett alone with her thoughts and fears. She checked every lock twice, drew every curtain, and still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. After a meager dinner of cold cereal—the only thing her churning stomach could handle—she retreated to her bedroom, pulling out her notebook of lucid dreaming research. The pages blurred before her eyes as exhaustion tugged at her consciousness. No matter how much she tried to focus, her mind kept drifting back to the day's events: her mother's strange behavior that morning, Claire's fear, Liam's memories, and Lucien's absence. Where was he when she needed him most? Her phone remained stubbornly silent, her texts unanswered. The clock on her desk ticked past midnight as she flipped through her notes, desperate for something—anything—that might explain what was happening. "I should just go to sleep," s
The hallways of Crestwood Academy seemed normal enough on the surface—students rushing to class, lockers slamming, the usual sense of teenage life—but to Scarlett, everything felt off-way off. Like the world had shifted slightly on its axis when she wasn't looking. Lucien's absence was the first thing she'd noticed. He didn't approach her on her way home as usual, his desk empty with Mr Peterson marking him absent without comment. No text explaining why. No warning he wouldn't be there. Just... gone. But it was Claire's behavior that truly unsettled her. Claire—who had made it her personal mission to torment Scarlett since she started this school—was acting like a cornered animal. Jumpy. Paranoid. Her usual confidence replaced by something that looked suspiciously like fear. During lunch, Scarlett watched as Claire's eyes darted nervously around the cafeteria, flinching at every loud noise. When their gazes accidentally met across the room, Claire's face drained of color, and
Morning light filtered through the kitchen curtains, casting long golden rectangles across the worn wooden table. Scarlett sat with her bowl of cereal untouched before her, the flakes slowly turning to mush as she stared absently at them. Dark circles shadowed her eyes—evidence of her sleepless night after the nightmare that had felt too real to dismiss. Across the table, her mother nursed a cup of coffee, her third since waking. Usually, the morning routine was filled with her mother's chatter about hospital gossip or gentle reminders about Scarlett's schedule. Today, there was only silence, broken occasionally by the soft ticking of the wall clock and the distant sound of birds outside. Scarlett watched her mother with growing concern. She seemed... off. Present physically but mentally elsewhere, staring into her coffee mug as if it contained mysteries she couldn't quite decipher. Every few minutes, she would lift the mug to her lips, then pause, looking momentarily confused abou
Cold air swirled around her skin, not like a natural breeze but like ghostly fingers trailing across her arms, her neck, her face. Each touch sent violent shivers through her body. "Hello?" she called out, her voice sounding muffled and distant, as if the void itself was absorbing the sound. "Is anyone here?" Silence answered her, pressing against her eardrums with its weight. Scarlett turned slowly, searching for any landmark, any point of reference in the featureless expanse. There was nothing but darkness and more darkness. Then, a voice—low, rich, and filled with amusement—whispered from somewhere both impossibly far away and terrifyingly close. "You're finally listening." The words seemed to caress her skin, each syllable leaving a trail of ice in its wake. Scarlett spun around, trying to locate the source, but the voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. "Who's there?" she demanded, forcing steel into her voice despite the fear bubbling in her chest. "Show yourself!"
Scarlett locked the front door after Lucien left, sliding the deadbolt into place with a solid click that echoed in the quiet foyer. She stood there for a moment, her palm flat against the cool wood, remembering the intensity in Lucien's eyes when he'd told her to secure everything. "Lock your doors tonight, Scarlett. All of them. And your windows." His words replayed in her mind as she moved through the house, methodically checking each window and ensuring each latch was firmly secured. The house was silent except for the steady tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hallway, its pendulum swinging with hypnotic regularity. Her mother had already retired upstairs, exhaustion finally claiming her after her hospital shift and the unexpected dinner guest. In the living room, Scarlett's fingers hovered over the light switch. The darkness beyond the windows seemed to press against the glass, watching, waiting. She hesitated, glancing toward the window that faced the old oak tree—the
Scarlett walked closer to the shadow, her heart hammering against her ribs. As she approached, she realized it was merely a trick of the light—shadows cast by the curtains dancing in the afternoon breeze. She exhaled shakily, trying to calm her racing pulse. "Mom?" she called out again, louder this time. "Are you home?" A sudden movement from the kitchen doorway made Scarlett jump and let out a piercing scream. Her mother stood there, looking startled by her daughter's reaction. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" her mom asked, concern etched across her tired features. She wiped her hands on a dishcloth, dark circles prominent beneath her usually bright eyes. Scarlett pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heartbeat to slow. "Nothing. Just... my nerves, I guess. You scared me." She studied her mother carefully. "What were you doing? I called out when I came in." Her mother's brow furrowed slightly, a distant look clouding her eyes. "I honestly can't remember," she admitted, rubbing he
Lucien had noticed something strange about Claire, but when Scarlett mentioned it earlier, he had brushed it off. After all, what did Claire's odd behavior have to do with him? His focus was on protecting Scarlett from the original vampires, his mind constantly working through potential plans.But when he'd brushed past Claire in the cafeteria on his way to join Scarlett and her friends, something caught his attention. A scent. Faint but unmistakable—evidence of lingering dream powers mingled with the distinct scent of a vampire. And the only vampire with dream powers besides himself was his elder brother, Ezra.The vampire scent was so faint it was almost nonexistent, but Lucien's senses were too sharp to miss it. That's why he had told Scarlett to go home without him. He needed to investigate without putting her at risk.Was Ezra here? The thought seemed impossible. Ezra would never leave his post to venture into the human world. The vampire council—King Arthur himself—had given the
Scarlett sighed. "It's Lucien, isn't it?" she asked without turning around. They nodded, smirking knowingly. Before she could turn to face him, she felt a soft pressure against her cheek—Lucien's lips, brushing lightly against her skin in a brief but unmistakable kiss. "Why are you denying me, Scarlett?" he asked, his voice pitched low and teasing. He placed a hand over his heart in mock pain. "You're breaking my heart. Are you saying our kisses meant nothing to you?" The girls erupted into poorly suppressed giggles as Scarlett turned to face him, her cheeks burning. She gave him a pointed look, silently cursing him and begging him to stop in equal measure. Lucien, of course, ignored her silent plea entirely. His gray eyes twinkled with mischief as he slid into the seat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. "I'm wounded," he continued, draping an arm casually around her shoulders. "Truly wounded." "I hate you," Scarlett muttered under her breath, but ther