Chapter 1

Chapter One

Gianna

Time to escape!

Excitement flushed through me, as electric and alive as the pulsing energy of New Orleans' French Quarter at night. With hands shaking in excitement, I flung open my bedroom window, letting a cool breeze blow in, carrying the fragrant, salty air and the distant sounds of jazz and revelry from Bourbon Street. The nighttime breeze danced through my hair, and I stretched my arms wide, ready to embrace sweet freedom. I inhaled deeply, savoring the scents of the city I'd called home for centuries, my heightened vampire senses picking up even the faintest traces of spices, perfume, and blood that saturated these old, old streets.

Outside my door, I could hear the rhythmic heartbeat of my bodyguard Jacques, who was keeping watch as he did every night. My brother, Angelo, head of the powerful Santi vampire mafia family, insisted on this suffocating security, keeping me locked away like a bird in a gilded cage, silhouetted against the pale Creole moon. Ever since he'd turned me nearly four hundred years ago, Angelo had ruled every aspect of my existence with an iron fist.

Well, tonight this little bat was finally going to spread her wings and escape the confines of the prison that had been her entire world for far too long. Insisting that I not be disturbed under any circumstances, I feigned a migraine and retired to my room early, my heart pounding as the moment of my escape approached.

I hated lying to Jacques, but tonight was my only chance to get out, since Angelo was off at a meeting with his men at St. John's Tavern—in which he was a silent partner—across the street from Crimson Stakes, the Santi family casino. Those meetings usually lasted for hours.

I checked over my reflection one last time in the ornate Victorian vanity, wanting every detail to be perfect. The bodice of my black-sequined dress hugged my curves like a second skin, the backless design leaving my pale shoulders bare and the shimmer of the fabric catching the moonlight like thousands of tiny stars. Sitting on the edge of the window, gazing at the night sky, I felt the thrill of impending freedom coursing through my veins, equally as intoxicating as the rush of fresh blood.

The moon shone down like a spotlight, illuminating the path to my freedom beyond these suffocating walls. I glanced back at the antique four-poster bed and its delicate lace curtains fluttering in the breeze, a symbol of the sheltered existence I was leaving behind. All the trappings of my fancy dungeon faded away as I focused on the bayou night beckoning ahead.

With a deep breath, I gathered up my skirts, the sequins sparkling like black diamonds in the moonlight. Then, in a billowing swirl of fabric, I leaped from the window ledge, unfurling my leathery wings and soaring into the warm embrace of the New Orleans night. The shimmering dress caught the wind briefly before it was caught in the change with me, and I was transformed into a creature of the night, a bat finally freed from its cave.

My friends and I were meeting at the Voodoo Velvet Lounge, not too far from Crescent Manor. It was a fancy restaurant with a dance floor and a great patio. I had suggested meeting there because of its proximity to Crescent Manor—if I unexpectedly needed to make a quick getaway, I could return home without Angelo ever knowing I had left.

I landed in the shadows of an alley next to Voodoo Velvet Lounge, my heart racing as I morphed back into my human form. The transformation was seamless, an advantage to being a vampire. Unlike shifters, our clothes remained intact, a testament to our supernatural power. Although I could only change into a bat, a limitation I sometimes felt keenly when I enviously watched my older brother effortlessly transform into either a bat or a wolf as he preferred, a gift bestowed upon him by Dracula himself.

The alley was narrow and dank, and the stench of urine and decay assaulted my heightened senses. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, the odor momentarily dampening the thrill of my newfound freedom. Glancing down, I carefully brushed off a few stray leaves that clung to my sequined dress.

With a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and stepped out of the alley, ready to embrace the vibrant chaos that was the French Quarter. The streets were alive with music and laughter, the revelry of Bourbon Street a siren song calling me to adventure. I wove through the throng of people, the pulsing heartbeats and heady scents of the crowd making my own blood sing with anticipation.

As I approached the front entrance of the Voodoo Velvet Lounge, I couldn't help but grin. The neon sign cast a sultry red glow across the skin of the people standing outside. This was it! I was finally going to dance the night away, going to let loose and indulge in the freedom I'd craved for so long.

With a surge of excitement coursing through my veins, I sashayed through the door. The thrill of rebellion fueled my every step as I prepared to paint the town red in every sense of the word. My skin tingled with the promise of the night ahead, and I could barely contain my wide smile.

Once inside Voodoo Velvet, I was immediately enveloped by the upscale jazz bar's rich, smoky atmosphere. The interior was a stunning blend of classic New Orleans elegance and mysterious, voodoo-inspired decor. The walls were adorned with colorful hand-painted murals depicting scenes from the city's rich history and legend, while ornate chandeliers cast a warm, flickering glow across the room.

The centerpiece of the lounge was a massive, intricately carved mahogany bar that stretched along one entire side of the room. The polished wood gleamed in the soft lighting, and the shelves behind it were lined with an impressive array of top-shelf liquors and rare, exotic spirits. A line of plush, velvet-upholstered stools ran along the bar, inviting patrons to sit and savor their drinks while soaking up the ambiance.

In the far corner, a small stage played host to a live jazz band, their smooth, soulful music weaving through the air and mingling with the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses. The musicians were clearly lost in their craft, their eyes closed and fingers moving deftly over their instruments as they poured their hearts and souls into every note.

Amid the crowd of elegant, well-dressed patrons, I easily spotted Nancee Cruise, my vivacious vampire friend, leaning against the carved mahogany bar. She looked stunning as always, her curvy figure wrapped in a form-fitting crimson dress that perfectly complemented her dark, glossy hair and pale, luminous skin. I grinned when I saw that she already had a hurricane glass filled with the iconic New Orleans cocktail in her hand. The potent blend of rum, fruit juices, and grenadine might have been loaded with enough alcohol to knock a human off their feet, but for vampires like us, it was merely a tasty indulgence.

I threaded my way through the crowd, the twin heady scents of blood and booze mingling in the air as I approached Nancee. She turned to face me, her crimson lips curving up into a delighted smile as she raised her glass in a playful salute. "Well, well, look what the bat dragged in," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I was starting to think you'd never break out of that luxurious cell of yours."

I laughed, the sound mingling with the jazzy notes that filled the room. "You know me, Nancee. I was determined to find a way to spread my wings."

Nancee cast her gaze over me. "I'm glad to see your little plan worked. You look beautiful, princess."

I took a deep breath, trying not to get annoyed with my friend. "You know I hate being called that. Tonight, I'm just one of the girls. Please?"

Nancee laughed as she elbowed me playfully in the ribs. "As if you could ever be just one of the girls . Every guy here has his eyes glued to you."

I rolled my eyes but smiled. "You've got plenty of admirers yourself, girl." I signaled the bartender and ordered a Sazerac, the slightly herbal aroma of rye whiskey and absinthe beckoning me like an old friend. Unlike Nancee's fruity concoction, I preferred the timeless elegance of one of America's oldest whiskey cocktails with its complex blend of flavors.

"Come on, we've got a table. I want you to meet my friend Stella. She's a waitress at Lunar Majesty."

I stiffened. Lunar Majesty was owned by Trystan Hunter, the head of the wolf mafia. Angelo had a strict rule about not associating with wolves. "Is she a wolf?"

Nancee shrugged nonchalantly. "Yes, but she's not like her pack. Come on, don't tell me you're turning into Angelo." She lowered her voice. "Is he still at the meeting?"

I sighed. "He'll probably be there all night. Just forget about him, Nancee." I wrapped a friendly arm around her slender shoulders. "You've got your pick of the bar tonight." I knew Nancee still had a thing for my brother, even though he'd only slept with her once and discarded her like he had done to so many women. Nancee was a blackjack dealer at Crimson Stakes and he'd brought her home one night. That was how I met her. We'd been friends ever since.

She gave me a small, sad smile. "It's kinda hard to move on once you've been with the vampire king."

Nancee had snagged us a table close to the balcony so we'd get the cool breeze. A tall woman with blonde hair and blue eyes sat the table. She had on a white dress that shimmered when she moved.

Nancee gestured toward the woman. "Gianna, meet Stella McClain. Stella, this is Gianna?—"

"Santi," Stella smiled. "Yes, I know who you are." Her eyes turned gold for a minute. Yep, she was definitely a wolf.

"Nice to meet you." I returned her smile.

Shit, Angelo would be furious if he knew I was partying with her. It was one of his stupid rules—no "fraternizing" with wolves or the Unseelie. He always insisted on keeping our groups separate, perpetuating those ancient, stupid prejudices.

Well, too bad. Tonight belonged to me, and I refused to be bound by my brother's narrow-minded rules. I would hang out with whoever I pleased. This was my chance to break free from Angelo's suffocating expectations and forge my own path…even if it meant defying the vampire mafia king.