June 5th, 2025. The Mayor's Mansion, Canterbury.

The moment had arrived.

The night unfolded like a scene from a decadent dream, the mayor's mansion gleaming under golden light, its marble pillars and endless glass windows reflecting the glow of a high-class world Celeste had learned to navigate with ease. The air thrummed with soft jazz, the clinking of champagne flutes, and the low murmur of idle gossip.

From her vantage point atop the grand staircase, she watched the scene below with quiet amusement as he leaned on the thick wooden railing.

In entered the man of the hour, Alex.

His tall, lean frame cut through the crowd with an effortless grace. The tailored black suit he wore was impeccable, hugging his broad shoulders and trim waist in a way that made him look like he had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. The fabric shimmered faintly under the soft lights, accentuating his athletic build without being overbearing. His dark hair was neatly styled, adding a touch of sophistication to his already striking appearance.

Her heart fluttered as her gaze lingered on him longer than it should have.

Hellen, the ever-determined matchmaker, was glowing as she greeted Alex. Her plans to approach him to make him seduce me won't work, Hellen. Poor girl, so earnest in her attempts to mould fate with nothing but sheer will. She's a good friend, but this obsession with romance? Her hormones are in overdrive. If she knew who Alex really is—and who I am—she'd run for the hills. So no, there's no point playing matchmaker with us.

Her smile faded from her face. Besides, I'm broken anyway.

When Hellen saw Roger coming in right behind Alex, she grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him away from his best friend, leaving Alex alone in the entrance hall.

Celeste chuckled as a mischievous smirk appeared on Hellen's lips.

Her gaze then drifted to him—Alex, all alone and visibly awkward on his own as other guests passed by, paying no attention to him. This impeccably tailored dark suit that drapes over your lean, powerful frame might look amazing, almost like a second skin, but it's not going to impress anyone here. Everybody else wears a famous brand of clothing, watch, and jewellery. You're the one who's underdressed here, honey.

As if prompted by fate, he raised his face up the staircase. His dark-red sunglasses shielded his unreadable eyes, but she didn't need to see them to feel their weight. He was looking straight at her, as if the surrounding people suddenly didn't exist anymore.

He had always been intense, but tonight, with the sharp cut of his jaw and the quiet way he held himself, he was something else. Something dangerous. Something tempting. She bit down on the inside of her cheek.

She saw the way his breath hitched, how his shoulders tensed just slightly, as though bracing for impact.

Interesting reaction. Is he afraid of me? Celeste allowed herself a slow, knowing smile before descending, each step measured, deliberate, as if she were gliding rather than walking. Her hand caressed the thick wooden railing.

The gold fabric of her short, tight Versace dress clung to her every curve, shimmering with each movement. With those long sleeves, wide neckline, and a short skirt, the dress exposed her graceful neck and her long, slender legs. She had just ironed her long, dark hair, which was hanging gracefully over her shoulders and back.

She wasn't oblivious to the way Alex's hands flexed at his sides or the way his jaw locked as she approached. He was affected by the sight before him. His chest rose and fell in a steady, deliberately controlled rhythm, each breath drawing attention to the solid expanse of his torso.

He's anxious, but he can tame himself. Good.

"I'm glad you could make it," Celeste murmured once she reached him, her voice a purr laced with irony. A playful smirk curled at her lips as she tilted her head, watching him with unveiled amusement.

His stance was rigid, as if he were a tightly coiled spring waiting to snap. "Miss Torres," he greeted her evenly, but his voice was strained.

Celeste's smirk deepened.

"Now the neighbours can go on gossiping about us," she mused, feigning concern. "Poor things. What would they do without your poor social skills?"

"I'm sure they've got plenty to talk about," he replied, his tone formal.

"You've given them such an entertaining distraction." Her eyes flickered over him, unapologetic in their perusal. "I'm certain they enjoy your brooding presence much more than my smiles."

"No, I'm quite sure they'll enjoy your smiles more than me, Miss Torres," he returned smoothly.

Celeste leaned in ever so slightly, just enough for him to catch the faintest trace of her perfume—something warm, exotic, like spiced jasmine on a summer night. She could tell he had caught it by the way his nostrils flared. She saw the way his throat worked, how his fingers curled into a fist before relaxing again. It was fascinating, watching him unravel by degrees.

"And I'm sure they couldn't possibly pick on any other social weakling like you, Mr... hm... Alex," she answered back. He had actually not bothered to tell her his surname, so she didn't have a choice.

"Walker," he replied. "Alex Walker."

She arched a brow, feigning surprise. "Well, well. You finally bothered to tell me your surname. Progress."

"Progress?" he echoed, suspicious.

"From a git to a gentleman, Mr Walker." She made reference to the way she had insulted him in the high-tech store the other day.

Her smile was teasing, her words a pointed blade wrapped in silk. She enjoyed this—pushing him, testing him, watching him react. He was different. Unlike any other man she had ever met. Most men flatter me and never defy me in any way. Boring. But Alex likes to fight; he distrusts me—and he should. His instincts are correct, so instead of flirting, he keeps the distance.

Celeste didn't wait for Alex to respond. The moment he hesitated, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward, dragging him through the side hallway and into the kitchen. The room was empty, abandoned by staff for the moment, and the only sound was a distant hum of voices from the party beyond.

She shoved him inside. Hard.

Alex barely caught himself before stumbling into the marble counter. His chest rose and fell in sharp breaths. "What the hell—"

A flash of silver. Celeste twirled a meat knife between her fingers with dangerous grace, the overhead lights winking off the blade's edge. Her smile was slow, languid, playful.

Alex's entire body locked up. A muscle feathered in his jaw. "Are you insane?"

Mental note: he's sane. A regular vampire would tease me and smirk.

"Probably." She lunged at him.

He dodged just in time, twisting away as the knife sliced the empty air where his ribs had been a second ago. The hem of her dress flicked against his thigh as she moved, her body so close he caught the scent of something dark and intoxicating—like night-blooming jasmine laced with smoke.

Good reflexes.

He blocked her next strike, fingers locking around her wrist, but she didn't falter. Instead, she twisted, pressing up against him, chest to chest. His breath hitched as her lips grazed his ear.

"Not bad," she murmured, voice like velvet over steel.

Then she wrenched free and struck again, sharper, faster. He knocked the knife aside, but the moment his focus shifted, her leg hooked behind his knee, sweeping him off balance.

He hit the cold tile floor hard.

Either he's slow, or I got him distracted with my seductive move.

Before he could react, she was on him, straddling his hips, pinning him down. She had retrieved the knife before he could even blink. The blade gleamed between them, poised just beneath his chin, her fingers curling around the hilt like a lover's embrace.

Let's see how he reacts.

She was close. Too close. Heat radiated from her, her dress bunched high over her thighs, wrinkling at her hips, as she leaned in, pressing her weight against him. Her breath ghosted against his lips.

"You're tense," she purred, her free hand tracing down the center of his chest. His pulse thundered beneath her fingers. "Nervous?"

Look at his madly pulsing jugular vein! He hates how much I affect him, how every nerve in his body is taut with something dangerously close to desire. Will he be able to bear the effects of this curse?

"Maybe," he admitted, voice strained.

"Good."

Her smirk was lethal, equal parts mischief and something darker. Slowly, she let the tip of the knife skim the hollow of his throat, tracing a path down to his collarbone. He swallowed hard.

Oh, Alex. Wouldn't you like to grab me, to flip our positions, to do something—anything—to take back control, would you? But you won't force this. You're cautious. My curse may have some effects on you, but you can tame them. Good. Anyway, I've seen enough—for now. I'm not that heartless.

Then, just as abruptly, she pulled back. Stood up. Tossed the knife onto the counter with a careless flick of her wrist.

He sat up, chest heaving, glaring at her. "What the hell was that?"

"Just testing you." And you passed. She winked, stepping back toward the door. "I hope you're not still mad at me because I had bid on the same scroll you wanted... and because we both lost it to that demon thief. Now, enjoy the party, Mr Walker."

This is going to be fun. She chuckled. The more insane he thinks I am, the better.

She stood on the kitchen's threshold, still staring at him, when a smirk preyed on her lips, and she said, "Follow me, if you dare... like you do every night."

Then she was gone, disappearing into the golden glow of the chandeliers, leaving him there—breathless, furious, and achingly turned on.

She knows I've been following her?! Alex stood there, in the kitchen. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

He rushed back to the entry hall, at a loss for either words or actions. He stared at her disappear into the crowd of the party in a large, adjacent music room.

A few people passed by on either side of him, chatting and laughing.

I can follow her, sure. If that's what she wants. He dragged a hand over his neck, as if trying to ease tension. I just hope she doesn't want to kill me. Because, if she knows that I've been following her, she sure knows what I am.

A sharp, humourless laugh escaped him. Then, a deep crease formed between his brows. He inhaled sharply, holding his breath for a beat too long. Let's go. I need to convince her that I'm a morally-driven vampire, not an evil one. We could even form an alliance.

As he slipped into the crowd in the music room, his gaze swept over the sea of faces, but it was the two women standing near the bar that caught his attention. They were hard to ignore, both stunning in their own right, their laughter like a siren call.

Their eyes locked onto him the moment he entered, their gazes sweeping over him, lingering on his broad shoulders and the confident, easy grace with which he moved. The air between them thickened, a shared glance passing like a silent invitation.

The blonde one with playful eyes bit her lower lip, nudging her friend, a fiery redhead, as they exchanged a whispered conversation, their giggles falling just short of flirtation. The look they gave him was one of curiosity and mischief, as if testing the waters of possibility.

Alex knew that he was usually one of those male specimens that drew the attention of many females wherever he went—not that he cared for their attention. He walked on by.

He had bigger issues to address: he needed to speak with Celeste and make sure no one could overhear their conversation, but if she was socially active, she might not be as available for a private conversation as he expected her to be.

That was when he spotted her.

Celeste was deep in conversation with a gentle, silver-haired lady when suddenly, a figure emerged from the crowd—a tall, platinum-blonde man, his features sharp and striking, his dark sunglasses as dark as Alex's. The moment he stepped into her space, the air shifted. With a languid confidence, he approached her, and they began talking with an ease that pulled them closer.

His smile was magnetic, with a captivating curve of his lips. His posture was impeccable, his white shirt clinging to a lean, yet sculpted frame, the black trousers accentuating his long legs. Every movement he made was deliberate, calculated and graceful.

Alex watched, an uncomfortable knot tightening in his chest, as he felt the strange sensation that those two had known each other far longer than the span of their brief exchange. As they talked, Celeste's smile widened in a way that seemed almost divine. It wasn't just her expression that had changed; the warmth of it radiated from her, glowing brightly.

Alex stood frozen. His heart pounded, not just with jealousy. The air thickened.

The man then took Celeste's hand in his, his fingers brushing hers in a gesture that felt too intimate. Then, with the smooth elegance of a bygone era, he kissed her hand in a slow fashion.

Celeste laughed, a soft, melodic sound, and with a confident flourish, the man led her to the dance floor.

In an instant, they were the centre of attention.

Alex pushed past the crowd, his mind barely processing the movements of the other guests as his eyes remained glued to them. And then, the music began—a tango, passionate and full of fire. The way they moved was nothing short of hypnotic. Their bodies intertwined in perfect harmony, every step, every turn executed with precision. The sensuality between them was undeniable.

The guests around him stood in stunned silence, their mouths agape.

Oh-oh, what is this? Alex thought, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Why should I care if someone else is making her smile? Why should it matter if he's the one dancing with her, sharing those moments of joy, those intimate laughs? His breath caught in his chest, and a cold, tight feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

Why am I suddenly so... jealous? The thought struck him like a physical blow. It didn't make sense, not when the bond between him and Celeste was uncertain and bound to get complicated. She was free to find joy wherever she pleased. So why did his chest feel like it was being squeezed by a vice every time she looked at him, her smile widening under the attention of someone else?

His jaw clenched, the muscles locking with a force he couldn't control, his teeth grinding together until they threatened to snap. Why do I want to hate this young man so much? He didn't know him. The guy could be a decent man, for all Alex knew. There was no reason for this sudden surge of disdain, yet it rose in him like a wave, uninvited and overwhelming.

And why does he wear dark glasses, like me? Alex's mind fixated on that detail with an intensity that bordered on obsession. It wasn't just the glasses—it was the timing. Indoors. At night. Just like me.

What's this man hiding? If he's a man, to begin with.

Hello, my sugar cubes!

Celeste wants to have some fun at Alex's expense and to test him. Will she get what she wants from him? Will he get what he wants from her?
And who's this seductive and mysterious man with dark sunglasses?

Stay tuned!

XOXO

Mar