Page 13 of All Your Bloody Lies

This was the sixth night in a row we’d been club-hopping. It’s both infuriating and exciting. I find the hunt fascinating, but my eagerness to find that dainty raven-haired damsel is driving me to be slightly irrational. I’ve snapped a few times at Mathas, who is acting impatient. It’s possible that she ran or fled town, making me truly believe that she had been the victim and was scared.

That prospect intrigues me, if I’m honest. Chasing her across the continent sounds fun.

First, I need to at least get a good idea of what she looks like. Maybe confirm her scent, so I won’t be blindly scouring the fucking planet like a lost dog.

We stroll down the bustling main thoroughfare of Sidence, surrounded by towering skyscrapers flanking both sides of the street. The lanes, four on each side, are sporadically occupied by passing cars. Despite the city’s perpetual buzz, it’s nearly midnight, and the majority

of people are opting for taxis to reach their destinations. Given that it’s a Saturday night, my anticipation for chaos in this particular club is high. As we turn down the alley, my expectations are met, it’s busy as all Beyond.

World Nite House is likely the most lucrative, bustling, and lively place in Sidence.

The club itself spans three floors. Its exterior is all black with tinted windows, only the silhouettes of dancers dragging my gaze. A large sign reads ‘Your World’ in bright neon colors. One couldn’t miss this place even if they tried.

The line greets us the moment we turn down the alleyway, but we don’t pause to stand in it. The two large Dylox guarding the door stare me down. When I stop in front of one of them we are of equal height. I measure six foot ten inches tall, not short in the slightest. He doesn’t intimidate me, and as I expose the back of my hand to him, he nods.

I’m marked by duty; while Shifters can be scarred and marked by iron and fire, my kind are not. My marking is done by way of a tattoo. A skull with a flower coming from the right eye covers the entire backside of my right hand. Before claiming Sidence, Hause Farella was symbolized by the skull of a Mundane with a flower coming from its right eye. It signifies life beyond death, a recurring theme for us Vampires.

We’re allowed to pass through, and as we do, the immediate sounds of music and shouts of merriment filter into my ears.

The first floor opens up quickly to a round space that shoots up all three flights, and circling it are more spaces for dancing. Bars round the entirety of the first floor, with the largest dance floor directly in front of me.

There’s so much to smell: alcohol, sweat, semen and piss—but I can smell her. It’s a scent of sweet florals, like blooming cherry blossoms and soft peonies.

I can’t explain it, there should be no reason why I can physically taste her. Hints of fruity notes reminiscent of ripe strawberries that I haven’t tasted in over three hundred years. It’s light, playful... and I feel like my tongue is being flirted with.

“She’s here,” Mathas says, and I glare at him.

I’m not sure why, but it pisses me off that he can also smell her.

“I can’t pinpoint her, but she’s definitely here.”

I can, it’s like I’m being dragged forward.Damn. Vayl above, what is that?I’ve never smelled a Mundane, let alone a Dylox, that’s this potent. This delicious thing is something I could devour for every meal and never tire of it.

I make my way through the crowd of people grinding against one another, nearly boning in the middle of the dance floor.

And then I spot her.

Her hair is lightly curled, beach waves I think is the right term, bouncing over her shoulders as she flows with the music. Her arms are up and over her head, a male behind her gripping at her hips and thrusting what is likely a mediocre cock against her curved ass.

I’m immediately captivated, struggling to even blink. She has cherry-stained lips, and I can tell it isn’t lipstick. It complements her nearly white skin, and by the Goddess, it’s as pure as silk. I don’t see a single freckle or flaw on her.

“That’s her,” Mathas comes to my side, “damn. Gods damn!” He is likely drooling, but I refuse to remove my gaze.

She glances playfully over her shoulder at the man who’s barely keeping his wits about him. It looks like he’s ready to tear off the black silk dress that has a slit right up to her hipbone.Holy fuck, her confidence in that piece of fabric is astonishing, because she’s not even wearing panties. Every sway of her hips, I can see where her thigh meets the curve that will take me straight to my undoing.

I hate being a male at times. My cock will not be restrained behind these pants for long. The thought of my hands on those hips and grabbing that plump ass is nearly blinding me.

“Come on, let’s try to interject.”

“Don’t touch her,” I grit through my teeth, the possessiveness easily readable. “I’ll do it. Stay here, and I’ll bring her.”

I don’t wait for him to respond and slither my way through the dancers. She’s not short, smaller in frame yes, but her breasts and ass are not dainty.

When I’m a mere foot from her, she finds my gaze. Her slanted, upturned eyes are a breathtaking silvern.

She gives me the one up and brushes me away, turning back to her endeavor with her temporary dance partner. But I’m not to be ignored, unfortunately for her.

I swing an arm behind her neck and pull her from the man who shouts in protest, “Allow me to—”

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