Chapter 2 Vivian

T here is something in the air in Saint Eldritch tonight, a feeling that I don't yet understand, and it's putting me on edge, making me feel the need to be extra cautious of my surroundings. On the surface, this town is nothing short of breathtaking. But paranormal secrets hide in plain sight…in the cute shops that tourists flock to, in the bars and restaurants that everyone loves, and in the soul of Saint Eldritch itself. There's an aura of whimsy that draws people here, a mysteriousness that they want to uncover. I've lived here for over one-hundred years and that still holds true.

I've been around long enough that not much surprises me anymore, but I think that may change tonight. I just don't know why yet. An instinct, a sixth sense, per se—that feeling deep in your gut that's so strong you have no choice but to trust and follow it.

I'm on my way to meet up with two of my friends to celebrate the upcoming Culling, as it's only a day away. Although, we are surely going to do enough celebrating tomorrow night too.

I don't know when this tradition started between Ava, Skylar, and me, but it's become a ritual to party with the humans the night before the event. It's like stepping into their world for a few hours of dancing and drinking while enjoying their company. A reminder of the importance of the Culling and why it even exists in the first place.

Every six months, I, along with the rest of the High Council, host a pairing of humans and vampires. It is always held at my hotel, the Barlowe, and always will be, at least in our district, that is. Twelve districts divide the United States, breaking the large vampire population into manageable factions, each run by a council. They are in charge of their Culling, but it is overseen by the High Council to ensure that the rules are being enforced and followed.As far as districts go, ours is typically the highest desired due to the wealth and opulence that goes into our Culling, no single expense ever spared.

Slowing down before reaching the end of the street, I come to a stop, my hair whooshing forward and wrapping around my face. Long hair isn't always the best friend of a vampire when we're running, especially at the speeds we reach.

"Slowpoke," I murmur, reaching out to my side with my thumb turned down, stopping Skylar as she slams into my hand. "Beat you."

She laughs, shoving my hand away. "Barely."

Running her fingers through her almost pitch-black hair, she tames the snarls and craziness back down as our other friend, Ava, catches up to us.

"There really is no need to go that fast," she pants, and I smirk, wondering how she's out of breath because usually it takes an insane amount of exertion to do that to us, and it doesn't typically happen from running.

"You call that fast?" I tease.

Her eyes flick up to mine as she grips the part of her thighs right above her knees with profound strength, the skin stark white between her fingers. "Shut it."

Turning to Skylar, I ask, "Are we ready?"

Lifting the thin straps of her bodysuit up, she shimmies her boobs into place before licking her lips. "Very."

Playfully glaring at her, I murmur, "No biting tonight, Skylar."

"Yes, mom , I know," she deadpans, cocking her head to the side.

An arm loops around mine as Ava begins skipping, pulling me along with her. "Let's go. We've already wasted enough time out here."

"We literally have forever," I remind her, happily skipping with her, my black platform boots slapping lightly against the pavement.

Dahlia joins my other side, snaking her arm around mine, and we finish walking the remaining few feet to the front door of tonight's destination—Nightshade.

The bouncer stops us before looking our way, blocking our path with his tree trunk of an arm. "And where do you ladies think you're going?" He faces us as he finishes his question, recognition dancing in his eyes.

He's one of us—Charlie Conway. Although I've never had a conversation more than a few words long with him, I know he's a decent guy, at least…from what I can sense from him. And he most certainly knows who I am.

The way people listen to the words others say to come to a conclusion about who they are, I use a special sense of my own, one that allows me to know exactly what they are feeling. I can sense if they are being genuine or deceitful, happy or sad, turned on or turned off, and everything in between.

Thankfully, over the years, I have learned to control it enough to tuck it away until I choose to let it come out to play. When I first turned and discovered I could do this, it was incredibly overwhelming. I wouldn't just feel my emotions; I would feel everyone else's as if they were mine too. And it wouldn't be just one person; it would be a room full all at once. It was agonizing. I couldn't shut it off, I couldn't get a break from it, and it took me nearly two years to get under control. The longest two damn years of my life.

Now, that gift reminds me of an onion. If I choose, I can open myself to anyone. I can peel back another layer and sense what they are feeling without feeling it myself.

If I want a deeper connection, I can allow the feelings in, let them run through my body and race through my heart, let them become my own. It can be intoxicating at times, like a drug where I want to chase the next burst of euphoria. But I haven't used it like a game in a very, very long time.

Besides, my emotions are often more than enough to deal with without involving someone else, so I typically keep that solid brick wall sky-high to block out everyone else's mood swings.

"Good evening, Ms. Barlowe." Charlie dips his head down ever so slightly. "A pleasure as always. You ladies have a good night."

"I'm sure we will." I smile up at him as he pulls the door open, music pouring out of the place, along with puffs of fog from the machines. "Stay out of trouble."

"Always do," he retorts as the black door seals shut behind us.

The inside of this place is packed tonight. No wonder the line outside wrapped down the street and around the sidewalk.

Music pulses through the speakers as we make our way through the crowd to the bar to get a drink. If it weren't for the fact that I have super strength, speed, and senses that make me feel fearless, I would never come in here. This place would be terrifying to me as a human.

We take turns ordering our drinks, and I turn around and lean back against the counter as we wait, scanning the crowd for any familiar faces, at least the ones I can see from here.

Alcohol alone doesn't really do anything to us, and the only time it does is if we consume enough to kill an elephant. However, if we take a little Deadly Nightshade, also known as Belladonna, not enough to do any real damage but enough to weaken our systems a hair, then the alcohol hits us a hell of a lot faster. Which is why before we left my place tonight, we each took a low dose of Nightshade flowers.

Ava hands me my drink, and I take a sip of the vodka soda, trying not to show the disgust on my face, but I fail miserably. Ugh. The entire mouthful was basically just vodka, which I suppose serves the purpose of the drink, but it tastes like shit.

Ava and Skylar fall into a conversation, speaking in a normal tone that is completely drowned out by the noise, but not to us if we listen intently enough. But I don't care to eavesdrop on their hot-or-not listing of the guys in the club.

The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and that same eerie sensation from earlier trickles down my spine like a slithering snake. What the hell is that? Annoyance.

It's like I'm feeling someone else's emotion, like it's breaking through my barriers without my consent. Which should be impossible.

I hate feeling any ounce out of control, and this is making me feel like a puppet in someone else's game. Curiosity kills the cat, right? Well, it also kills cute vampires named Vivian because I can't ever seem to help myself.

"Look, man, I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it."

Who the hell said that?

Perking up and standing up taller, I open myself to the group, searching for the source of concern. As I bounce between each person I tap into their emotions, the majority are feeling horny and/or annoyed, not what I'm looking for.

"We don't want any trouble." Where did that come from?

I hear the same voice again, the tone clear as day, as if he's standing right beside me. But no one is.

Latching onto the voice, I close my eyes and focus on where it came from. I don't know how to explain it other than it's like a string connecting me to whoever I'm tuned in to, and I have to mentally tug on it until I find its origin.

His breathing fills my ears, each inhale and exhale speeding up, and I swear I can feel his breath fluttering through my hair and warming the side of my cheek.

A tree plants itself across the room where he stands. Long, intertwining roots snake beneath the floor, bursting through the ground under my feet, and I feel him as if we are connected.

The moment I latch onto him, I know exactly where he is, and I'm striding forward, swimming through the sea of people to the source.

In seconds, I reach my destination, and all the air dissipates from my lungs.

I've never felt this pull to someone's emotions before or had the desire to let them in like I do right now. I want to feel what he's feeling like an itch I desperately need to scratch.

He's hot in a sexy nerd type of way. The sharp curve of his jaw ticks as he locks eyes with a guy across from him, but I can't seem to tear my gaze away from his tousled blonde hair and summer pool blue eyes, perfectly framed behind his glasses. He's quite mesmerizing to look at. Beautiful. Like he stepped out of a piece of art. I haven't been entranced by someone like this since…well, since ever.

Taking a deep breath, I let my guard down for him and attempt to carefully let in whatever emotion is coursing through him.

Nervousness. Confusion. Hesitation. A little fear and anger…lots of anger. The kind that is rooted deep in the soul, kept away in the darkest parts of a person, and always begging to be let out.

I wonder if his anger wants to have a playdate with mine.

The other guy gets in his face and blocks my perfect view, and the only things I sense from him are the desire for chaos and the guilt for causing it, which is rather contradictory.

I do not have time for this, though, because I'm dying to know more about the hot six-foot-four blond guy that demanded to be noticed by me.

Closing the few feet remaining between us, I slide my hand across the other guy's chest, drawing his attention to me. His fury quickly morphs into arousal, and I try not to throw up. If only he could physically feel my rejection.

Locking eyes with him, I smile. "Hi," I whisper before standing on my tiptoes, mentally visualizing my next words in his mind and planting them as if they were his own. "Apologize for causing a scene and leave for the rest of the night."

Rocking back on my heels, I watch his shoulders relax before he turns to my hot mystery guy.

"Oh, man. I'm so sorry about all of this. Have a good night," he says calmly before speeding off, beelining it for the exit.

This is another skill I've acquired over a long time and lots and lots of practice. I was a very empathetic human, and that manifested into the ability to sway others' decisions as a vampire.

It began very sporadically, but once I realized that in order to have successful recipients, I had to tap into their emotions like I do when I want to sense and feel them, I caught on quickly. It gets me past their walls, and I place my words in their consciousness as if they thought of them themselves. And they never know the difference.

The music dies out between songs, and thankfully, the next one isn't as bass heavy, and I can actually hear without using my vampire hearing.

"That was incredible," the sexy reason I'm over here murmurs to me.

Shrugging, I smile. "What can I say? I have a way with words. I'm Vivian, by the way."

He smiles kindly, and I feel his genuineness like sunshine on my skin. "I'm Greyson. It's nice to meet you."

"Greyson, would you like to dance with me?" I ask him softly, not using any specially enhanced encouraging words to sway his decision. I want to know the truth.

His sweet smile stretches across his face as his heart races with excitement, the blood pounding in my ears, and attraction exudes from his every pore. He likes me. Good .

The smooth tone of his words drips with sweetness as he says, "I would love to," and I want to see if the lips speaking them are just as delicious.