“Tell me, boy. How many girls have you stalked after they rejected you? How many have you hurt?” Her voice was deceptively calm.

The human’s eyes twinkled with something akin to pride. Excitement. He loved this. He anticipated hurting her, and he relished it.

“And you.” She tilted her head to his two muscleheads. “You helped him every time, didn’t you? You can’t tell me assault is in your job description. You like this.”

The first musclehead, a pale, bald, tattooed man in his forties, leered at her. The second snorted. “Like you’re better than any of us, bloodsucker.”

She had been better, for years and years. She’d traveled the world, played music, danced in the rain, learned to dye silk and cook pelmeni. She’d socialized with both regular and sups on a superficial level, staying away from trouble. Away from anything that might trigger the predator inside her. Diana liked to live a hedonistic, pacifistic existence…most of the time. She didn’t attack without provocation, and she never did anything against innocents. But when presented with the opportunity to blow off some steam against someone who deserved it, she was something else entirely. She let the child her family had raised out of her inner cage and became a true Helsing for a moment or two.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” She smiled wickedly at them. “You aren’t.”

Diana launched herself at the trio, sliding low to administer a nasty punch to the bald one’s flank, then a high kick to the second guard’s neck. She lifted her other leg to the other side of his head and twisted her ankles—just hard enough to strangle him. She could have broken his neck, but it would have been over too fast, and now that the monster was unleashed, it wanted to play.

Stepping on his face, she stood tall on top of him, then jumped on the skinhead’s back. Her legs closed around his neck and she ducked, to roll on the ground, taking him with her—one of her favorite signature moves. She landed in an elegant feline crouch. The bodyguard fell face-first, breaking his nose on the hard pavement. Chuckling, she returned her attention to the second guard. He drew his fist back to punch her. She moved, swift as a shadow, and tapped his shoulder. “Over here.”

He blinked, confused as to why she wasn’t standing in front of him anymore.

Diana’s mouth closed on his neck and, unsheathing her fangs, she bit deep, hard, cutting into his artery, and then ripping his flesh.

Feeding could be a painless affair, if the vampire wanted it to be. It could even be sensual, under the right circumstances.

Or it could be the thing of nightmares. An excruciating wound, followed by horror as the prey froze, helpless, feeling their blood being sucked, drained.

She picked option two.

The skinhead and the rich boy moved to attack, but Diana ignored their blows, kicks, punches, and their attempt to tear her away from her prey. She relished in their screams, their fear. His blood wasn’t exceptional. It wasn’t even palatable. But his terror? That was a delight.

Feeling his heart slow dangerously, she let go, and turned back to the two regulars left.

She noticed that she’d attracted a small crowd. There were even phones aimed at her.

Precious.

Diana released the tiniest sliver of energy, aimed at the small gathering. The half-dozen humans filming her all yelped and let go of the burning-hot devices in their hands. Seven phones fell to the wet asphalt. One even caught fire.

Oops?

Diana wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, staining it red. She must have looked positively wild.

Which was exactly what she was, at the moment. Plain or not, tasting human blood for the first time in what felt like eons was bound to have an effect on her. She didn’t feel out of control—just tipsy. And a tipsy ancient Helsing wasn’t a good thing.

Her two adversaries looked between the wailing guard, on his knees, pressing his hands to his throat, and her.

She tilted her head. “Take him. And hopefully, you’ve learned a lesson or two.”

The boy glared at her.

She didn’t think he had at all.

He’d come at her again, some day.

His funeral.

A Guilded Cage

Mikar Ash couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this agitated. Or trapped.

It had been three months since the borders of Oldcrest had been attacked, and in those three months, he hadn't left their territory. Not even once.

He had duties he took seriously in Oldcrest. Namely, the protection of Chloe Eirikrson, Levi De Villier's mate. Being assigned to guard her was an honor. She was the one thing Levi valued most. That he'd asked Mikar to be her main bodyguard spoke volumes as to the extent of Levi's trust in Mikar.

If he was honest, Mikar would have expected Levi to have picked someone else—anyone else—for the job. Sylvan, for example. Syl was indubitably Levi's best slayer. Mikar wasn't an ideal protector. Sending him to spy or kill an enemy would have made a lot more sense. Mikar didn't like to sit still, wasn't fond of most people, and had, numerous times, gone directly against specific instructions Levi had given him. He'd had good reason each time, but he knew that every other slayer—even Ruby, the half-wild, entirely mad warrior haunting the hills of Oldcrest—wouldn't have done so.

When he saw a better way to do something, he did it, no matter Levi’s directives.

Yet here he was. Stuck in Oldcrest. Playing chess with Chloe, his protégée. Well, more accurately, losing at chess against Chloe. The girl was a fast learner.

"When do you think Levi will chill?" she asked, moving her tower to ruthlessly attack his king. "It's been ages since I’ve been out in the real world. I need to stock up on body lotion."

At least he wasn't the only one in danger of being bored to tears here.

He moved a bishop into the path of the rook, sacrificing the piece to protect his king.

Without so much as a second of hesitation, Chloe placed her other tower on his side of the board. "Check."

Having no other choice, he moved his king. "I don't know. I thought the paranoia would ease up at the start of the semester," Mikar admitted.

He understood why Levi had been protective through the summer, when most of the students were gone.

The students of the Institute of Supernatural Studies represented both a threat and a layer of protection. Should they stand with their enemies, they could weaken Oldcrest from within, but the bulk of the student body had proven that their loyalties were to Oldcrest. To Levi. And most of all, to Chloe. They'd fought alongside them last year.

Levi should have relaxed when the students came back to Oldcrest. He hadn't.

"You realize I'm here?" Levi pointed out, not lifting his gaze from the computer he was staring at.

They were on the top floor of the tower that Levi and other vampires used to further their own course of studies. He had a laboratory that doubled as a dungeon underground, but he used the elegantly furnished, lavishly decorated study, because it was the one room in the entire edifice reinforced with specific spells that allowed them to speak freely. No one could spy on them in this room—magically or otherwise. Well, that, and they could actually get some cell reception here.

The privacy was the principal reason. Levi's research was paramount to the vampire race, and many would have liked to hinder it. Until recently, he'd been embroiled in research to attempt to create a cure against the bite of a feral vampire. They’d infected healthy vampires and turned them into mindless killing machines that fed on vampire blood. Months ago, they'd found out such a cure already existed—it was in Chloe’s—and in all of the Eirikrsons’—blood. At the moment that included her, her brother, her ancestor Eirikr himself…and perhaps Eirikr’s psychotic daughter.

Chloe had been kind enough to provide a vial every time someone had asked for her blood in order to save ferals, but they hadn't yet managed to synthesize it. That was Levi's next mission.

Some would have loved nothing more than to stop him. There were sups who hated vampires, for one. Vampires were the ultimate apex predators, second only to actual gods. As most of the major gods had long left their world, they were at the top of the food chain. Many didn't like that. They wouldn't have minded if their entire kind was affected by the feral curse. Ferals, while possessing all the natural raw strength and speed of a vampire, were considerably easier to kill than healthy immortals in possession of all their mental capacities. And of course, some vampires simply hated Levi enough to stand against him, no matter what that entailed.

"I haven't lifted the protection measures because every day the number of enemies we have increases as they recruit Eirikrson haters, and we don’t know from what front they’ll come at us next time. If you need body lotion, order it online and have it sent to the postal box. Ruby and Sylvan will pick it up on their regular run into town."

Those two were the only slayers could head out. Although there was a valid reason for that, Mikar still resented them both.

The self-appointed queen who'd been moving against Chloe and the rest of them from the shadows for months would try to attack again. It was just a matter of when. To ensure that Oldcrest remained impregnable, Levi had had the magic shields at the borders reinforced with a spell that only allowed in those who'd been invited by one of the residents of Night Hill. He’d personally extended that invitation to every student, teacher, and member of staff, but they couldn't invite anyone in turn. Greer, the witch who'd performed the spell, theorized that if a resident was holding hands with an intruder, they could technically enter together, but the security risk was minimal. However, if their adversaries could get their hands on a resident of Night Hill, that would be another story. Levi probably didn't believe that any amount of torture would get Mikar to break, but there were other ways their enemy could manage to get what she wanted. Spells, hexes, manipulation. They couldn't afford to risk it.

Ruby technically didn't live on Night Hill: she'd taken residence in one of the caves at the base of Cosnoc, the forbidden eastern hill where Chloe's ancestor, Eirikr, was trapped. As for Sylvan, he was just visiting. Levi hadn't ordered Mikar to stay put—he didn't ever attempt to order him around. He asked, and Mikar complied. He knew his utter boredom wasn't reason enough to risk his friends' lives.