Page 1 of Viktor's Temptation
Prologue
The pain was a ravenous beast, clawing and biting at every inch of her body. Gracie Andrews clung to the cold granite wall, her trembling frame pressed against its unyielding surface. She wasn’t aware of much beyond the agony consuming her—muscle and bone singing in a cacophony of torment that felt endless. Every nerve screamed, each one a live wire sending jolts of unbearable suffering through her.
She had never imagined anything could hurt like this. Not even when her fiancé had struck her days ago—no, weeks, perhaps? Time was a blurred smear in her mind, lost amidst the haze of unrelenting pain. The only marker she had now was the darkness around her. Night had fallen again. She was certain because the punishing light of the sun no longer burned her eyes.
Though even now, her eyes throbbed, the deep ache seated somewhere behind them. Her entire body felt invaded, as if sharp, molten needles were being driven under her skin, over and over again, with no reprieve. The heat came next—searing, unbearable. It wasn’t like the fever she’d had last winter, the one that left her sweating and weak but alive. This heat was all-consuming, scorching her from the inside out, leaving no place untouched by its fury.
Desperate for relief, she pressed her palm against the rough granite, hoping the chill of the stone might soothe her burning flesh. But the touch brought no comfort. Instead, it was like pressing her hand into shards of broken glass, each jagged edge slicing deeper until she pulled away, gasping. Even the air moving across her skin stung like acid. There was no escape.Every movement, every breath, every heartbeat was a fresh wave of anguish crashing over her.
Tears, hot and unchecked, streaked her cheeks, though she scarcely noticed. Her throat was raw as she whispered into the silence, her voice hoarse and broken.
“Make it stop. Please… make it stop…”
Her plea fell into the still night, unheard and unanswered. She was utterly alone, ensnared in this unending nightmare with no one to pull her from its grip.
Chapter 1
The moon was bold tonight, spilling its silvery glow over the city like it had something to prove. Lord Viktor Rastan, head of the Eastern Clan of vampires, leaned back in his limousine, gazing at the luminous orb with a bemused half-smile. The idea that the moon brought out “monsters” still amused him even after all these centuries.
Humans. Sweet, naive humans. They had no idea. If they truly understood how many monsters roamed among them daily—forget the moon—they’d barricade themselves in their homes, armed with garlic, crucifixes, and all manner of ridiculous trinkets. Honestly, the myths were more amusing than offensive. Vampires repelled by garlic? Please. If Viktor had a dollar for every poorly-seasoned meal he’d suffered through while politely smiling at humans, he’d own the entire city, not just half of it.
He tore his gaze from the moon and surveyed the passing streets through the tinted window. Other monsters prowled tonight, he was certain, though he had little interest in crossing paths with them. Tonight, his focus was on far more civilized pursuits—namely, a perfectly aged Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon waiting for him at home. A good glass of wine might help dull the persistent itch of unease that had been clawing at him lately.
With a faint sigh of contentment, Viktor reached for the investor reports stacked neatly beside him. Numbers. Glorious, endless numbers. If ruling a clan had its challenges, managing its finances was a joy Viktor wouldn’t dream of delegating. Each spreadsheet, each projection, was like a puzzle waiting to besolved—a dance of probabilities, risks, and rewards that set his mind alight.
While others might balk at the tedium, Viktor found solace in the precision of it all. Numbers didn’t lie. They didn’t scheme or hide motives behind charming smiles. They were honest, reliable, and, most importantly, lucrative when wielded correctly. And Viktor wielded them like a master.
Just as he was about to dive into the intricacies of his latest acquisition, his focus diverted to…!
An aroma—rich, tantalizing, and maddeningly ambiguous—slipped into the car like a whispered promise. Viktor froze, his hand hovering over the reports. His entire body tensed as he inhaled again, sorting through the layers of the scent. Floral… but with an edge. Sweet, but also metallic. Human? No, that wasn’t right. It wasalmosthuman.
His muscles coiled, predator instincts flaring to life. A vampire’s senses were sharp by nature, but Viktor’s were exceptional, honed over centuries. Yet this scent defied his understanding. It was both alluring and unsettling, like the soft brush of silk concealing a dagger.
What in the nine hells was this?
His jaw tightened as unease gave way to irritation. The Eastern Clan was his domain. He ruled it with precision and care, ensuring its members thrived under his protection. Nothing—not so much as a stray cat—entered his territory without his knowledge. So how had this…this beautiful scentslipped through?
His mind flicked to the bodies. The human corpses discovered recently had baffled the police with their peculiar, unexplainable injuries. Viktor had dismissed the reports initially, figuring it was some rogue shifter getting sloppy. Jace, the local pack leader, had been too wrapped up in his own dramas to investigate. And Sorcia, the High Priestess of her coven, had simply rolled her eyes and muttered something about “amateurs.”
But now… now Viktor wasn’t so sure.
Was this the work of a new vampire? One foolish enough to ignore the most basic tenets of discretion? If so, they’d made two grave mistakes: killing recklessly and enteringhisterritory without permission. The scent, maddening as it was, told him one thing with certainty—this was no ordinary situation.
“Dammit,” Viktor muttered under his breath, sniffing the air again, trying to pin down its source. His driver maneuvered the limousine through the sluggish traffic, oblivious to the tension radiating from his employer.
Then he saw it—a flicker of movement on the sidewalk. Something quick, somethingoff.
“Stop,” Viktor barked, his voice sharp as a blade.
The car eased to a halt at the intersection, the hum of the engine fading into the background. Viktor leaned forward, his gaze locked on the spot where he’d caught the movement. At first, nothing. His grip on the armrest relaxed slightly. Perhaps it was just his imagination—centuries of survival instinct misfiring.
And then it happened again. A shadow, barely perceptible, shifting unnaturally. His sharp eyes followed it, narrowing as the outline clarified. No, it wasn’t human. It had the shape of one, but the energy was… wrong. Too sharp, too deliberate.
Not human. Not anymore.
The light changed and his driver started to move forward. “No! Stay here,” Viktor ordered, his voice low but commanding.
The limousine stilled completely, but Viktor was already moving, his hand on the door handle. Whatever this was—whatever had dared to creep intohisdomain—he would find it. And he would ensure it learned the cost of trespassing.
