Priscilla assumed she was being seductive. Maybe if I could see her the way others did -beyond the shifting pattern of her essence, beyond the pulsing energy that made up her form- it might have worked. Maybe if I could see her as flesh and blood instead of the hypnotic interplay of red and black threads that made up her being, I’d have been caught up in whatever spell she wove around those who followed her.

But I wasn’t.

And it wasn’t because I was blind.

Her pattern was brighter than those around her, the sickly red veins pulsing through her aura like a living thing, threaded with something darker -something corrupt. Power clung to her like perfume, intoxicating and heavy, and the sycophants around her basked in it, their own energies dimming in her presence. Whatever mesmeric pull she had on me was something she had applied generously to those who surrounded her. They practically worshiped her. I wondered if any of them were her friends… or just thralls playing their roles.

“So this is the grand Vampire House?” I mused, tilting my head as if inspecting the unseen. “Quaint.”

A few hisses rose from the gathered crowd. What, was I in a room full of feral cats? Apparently, vampires weren’t big on humor.

Priscilla merely smiled, unbothered. “The restrictions of the university are… limiting at times,” she admitted, stepping closer. “But we manage. Still, my hope, dear Declan, is that I might persuade you to stay. To show you that we are not such a terrible house to belong to.”

I shrugged, barely suppressing the shudder her voice sent down my spine. It wasn’t nerves -it was instinct. Predator recognizing predator.

“Yeah, no thanks,” I said easily, letting the words roll off my tongue. “I mean, I don’t want to shut you down before you’ve had your chance to put on the sales pitch, so… sure. Show me what makes you guys so special.”

Her smile widened -sharp, knowing, satisfied.

“Gladly.”

She led me through the foyer, her arm still lightly draped through mine like we were old friends. The air thickened as we moved deeper into the house, and my senses flared in protest.

I could smell it.

Sex. Blood. Power.

It clung to the walls, soaked into the furniture, filled every breath like something alive. It was a constant, pulsing energy, something dark and indulgent and hungry. Even without sight, I could feel the way the space pulsed with excess, an endless orgy of sensation where nothing was denied, no desire left unfulfilled.

And yet, nothing in this house glowed with magic.

No ancient sigils burning with power. No enchantments whispering in the air. Nothing as inherently mystical as I had expected. The vampires here -despite their grandeur, despite their power- were mundane in the worst way. Human in their vices. Monsters in their indulgences.

And Priscilla was at the center of it all.

Her aura, slick with greed and self-interest, pulsed in the darkness like a beacon. She had called herself queen, and she was right. Whether it was queen bitch or queen bee, there was no mistaking it.

She ruled here.

And she was very, very dangerous.

I needed to get out of here. Fast.

The air was suffocating, thick with something I could only describe as wrong. It wasn’t just the scent of blood -though that was ever-present, coppery and cloying- it was the weight of hunger pressing against my skin. It clung to the walls, to the furniture, to the people lounging in various states of intoxication.

Lust. Power. Hunger. Bloodlust.

It was more than just a physical space. It was an atmosphere, a current that pulsed beneath my feet, drawing me in, whispering promises of indulgence and pleasure. And yet, instead of being tempted, I felt... trapped.

I wasn’t into it.

For all the jokes people made about wild fantasies, about orgies and forbidden pleasures, this wasn’t sexy. This was depravity. This was people using each other, feeding off one another in ways that went beyond just sex and blood. It was consumption. A place where pleasure wasn’t about connection -it was about power.

And I wanted out.

Priscilla, of course, noticed.

Her laugh was like silk, smooth and decadent. “Oh, dear. You don’t like what you see?”

I exhaled sharply, shaking my head. “You do realize I can’t see, right?”

She tsked, stepping closer, a predator sizing up her prey. “But you can smell it, can’t you? Feel it?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

I could. And it made my skin crawl.

Then, before I could step back, she touched me.

A single finger tracing the curve of my neck, lingering at my collarbone before sliding down my chest, slow and deliberate. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty. Priscilla knew exactly what she was doing. She radiated confidence, a woman who had never been denied.

Her hand ghosted lower, teasing, fingers trailing ever closer-

I moved before I could think, stepping back and deflecting her hand with a firm grip on her wrist.

“Honestly, lady, I’m not interested.”

Her golden laughter curled around me, sultry and knowing. “Persistent, aren’t you? Stubborn. I like that. It makes the hunt so much more... satisfying.”

She leaned in, her breath warm against my jaw. “It makes the conquering that much sweeter.”

I exhaled through my nose, forcing my body to stay relaxed, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You like the chase. Super original.” I rolled my shoulders, forcing a casual tone. “Now, where’s my room?”

Her smirk widened. “Oh, that depends, dear fledgling.”

I crossed my arms, waiting.

“Since you’re... undecided,” she purred, letting the word roll off her tongue like a slow drizzle of honey, “you get to pick. Any house, any wing, any roommate. We don’t discriminate.” She stepped even closer, the scent of her intoxicating, threaded with something I knew was unnatural. “Boy, girl... other. It doesn’t matter. Whatever pleases you.”

I let that hang between us for a moment before casually tilting my head. “Cool. So, which part of the house is yours?”

Priscilla chuckled, low and throaty, like I had just told a particularly amusing joke. “This way.” She took my hand, her grip cool and firm, and started leading me toward the west wing.

“Great,” I said, smoothly slipping my fingers free. “Then I’ll take the exact opposite side.”

I turned to walk away.

I barely made it a step.

Before I could even process movement, she was there -already standing in front of me, blocking my path, her body pressed flush against mine.

I jerked back on instinct. How the hell-?

Priscilla’s smirk was wicked, her fangs glinting as she traced a nail down the center of my chest. “Oh, dear boy,” she murmured. “Did you really think you could slip away so easily?”

My breath hitched. Not because of attraction. Not because I wanted her.

Because her voice.

Every syllable dripped with something insidious, every word laced with an undercurrent of something dark and carnal. It wasn’t just lust -it was power.

It coiled around me, threading through my veins, something primal and intoxicating, awakening a hunger I wasn’t sure was mine.

“I have tricks, my dear,” she whispered, her lips barely brushing my ear. “So many delicious things I could teach you.”

The hunger inside me stirred. Not just for blood. Not just for pleasure.

It was something deeper. Darker.

“I want you,” Priscilla continued, her nails digging ever so lightly into my skin. “To have whatever you desire. All you have to do...”

Her breath curled against my lips.

“...is take it.”

Something inside me twisted.

I have to get out of here. Now.

“No, thank you,” the words barely made it out of my mouth, strained, raw -like I had to force them past clenched teeth. Every fiber of my being rebelled against them, against walking away from what she was offering. Against rejecting her.

I had to physically steel myself, locking my muscles in place before I did something reckless. Something dangerous. Something stupid.

I moved carefully, reaching out, grasping her shoulders with just enough pressure to be firm but not aggressive. Her skin was cool beneath my fingers, unnaturally smooth, and there was something about the way her pulse -I was surprised she even had one- seemed to sync with mine that sent a fresh wave of temptation crashing through me.

Just one taste. One sip.

Just one moment of giving in to the pull.

I could already feel the power beneath the surface, lying in wait like a beast ready to pounce. It would be so easy.

Priscilla felt it too. I could see it in the flicker of her aura, the way her pattern pulsed in rhythm with the darker hunger inside me. She knew. And worse -she wanted me to give in.

This is what being around other vampires was like? I was adrift in a dark sea with no land in sight. Well, shit. I was so out of my depth it wasn’t funny. Being exposed to my ‘kind’ like this for the second time -including the pit- helped me to realize just how not ready I was to face off against my maker.

I exhaled sharply, forcing the temptation down, stuffing it into the deepest, darkest part of myself where I could pretend it didn’t exist. Then, as smoothly as I could manage, I shifted her aside and took a step back, putting as much space between us as possible.

“I wish to take my leave.”

The words were stiff, awkward, but I followed them up with a quick bow, flicking my fingers in a flourish -something I hoped looked more composed than I felt.

“I’m tired,” I continued, stretching the excuse as far as it would go. “I’ve been walking all day. I’d like to rest. Alone. By myself. Alone. Without you. Alone.”

Priscilla huffed, crossing her arms, and for the briefest second, I thought I’d actually insulted her. But no -she wasn’t angry. She was amused.

A slow, indulgent smirk curled across her lips. “Fine. Have it your way, darling.”

As if on cue, her entourage slithered to her side, eager to bask in whatever twisted affection she had to give. She pet them like they were prized lapdogs, nails trailing lazily through their hair, over their shoulders, fingers curling under their chins like they were some kind of… pets.

Their auras flared as they drew closer to her, rippling like smoke laced with embers, shifting and curling with an unnatural hunger. Each one burned in varying shades of red and black, but unlike Priscilla’s calculated, controlled pattern, theirs were chaotic, frantic, pulsing with something almost desperate. The dimmest among them were cracked and faded at the edges, like something had been siphoning them for too long, leaving them hollowed out, tethered to her presence more than their own essence. Their devotion wasn’t admiration -it was need.

One of them, a wiry male with a form that hinted at elongated fingers and sharp, jagged teeth, had an aura that flickered erratically -like a flame about to snuff itself out. When Priscilla touched him, the flame brightened -not much, but just enough that he shuddered, a ripple of something almost like relief washing through him. An addict getting his fix.

Another, a striking woman with sinewy athletic limbs and an aura spiked with slashes of silver and deep crimson, leaned into Priscilla’s touch like a flower toward the sun. Her presence oozed something sharp, something venomous, but there was no mistaking the dependency beneath it, the way her essence recoiled whenever Priscilla pulled her hand away.

They weren’t just following her. They were bound to her.

Even without sight, I could feel how they pulsed when she moved, like lesser bodies orbiting a dying star. Whether she fed on them, manipulated them, or simply held something over them, it was clear -they were more than underlings. They were thralls.