"it's a family thing"
Nyxthera POV
He looked at me with this strange, cocky half-smile, the kind that screamed I know I’m beautiful, deal with it. I rolled my eyes so hard I was convinced they might disappear into another dimension. Really? That’s your move? Walk into a bar, smirk at me like a wolf in designer clothes, and expect me to melt? Cute.
Clicking my tongue, I turned my back on him, reclaiming my drink like it was the only loyal thing in this room. Phone in hand, I scrolled through my SHEIN app. Dresses, heels, more dresses. Call it therapy. And if you’re wondering how I afford all this without working, the answer is simple: I’m a stay-at-home millionaire girlfriend. Don’t question the system.
A voice slid in, low and smooth, like velvet over steel. “Is it a coincidence we meet again?”
I turned my head, and there he was, sliding onto the stool beside me like he owned it. The man from the car. Of course. Ordering a drink like he hadn’t almost made me roadkill.
“What now?” I drawled, swirling my glass. “At least you didn’t actually kill me a few minutes ago.”
His mouth curved. “I could never. My baby was just… a little too excited. But I was the man on the wheel. You had nothing to fear.”
I gave him a look sharp enough to cut. “Since when do humans call hunks of metal their baby? That was just a BMW. Not a newborn child.”
He laughed, low and easy, the kind of sound that could get under your skin if you weren’t careful.
“Lucian Duskbane,” he said smoothly, raising his whiskey glass to me like it was some ancient ritual. “Pleasure to meet you.”
I glanced at the glass, then back at him, then laughed outright. “Let me get this straight—you nearly hit me with your car, then you walk in here flashing a grin and a name like some kind of Bond villain, and now this?” I tapped his raised glass with one finger. “Does this trick actually work on women?”
He smirked wider, dangerously so. “Believe it or not, you’re the first.”
“Mm-hm,” I said, lifting my own glass. “Nyxthera.”
Our drinks clinked together, sharp and loud over the music.
“Nyxthera,” he repeated, like he was tasting the syllables, savoring them. “What a beautiful name for a woman like you. Tell me—what’s a lady like you doing here alone?”
I arched a brow. “What else? Came here to relax.” I let my eyes drift toward the dance floor, where bodies flailed like fish out of water. “But instead, I got front-row seats to… whatever that is. Honestly, it’s tragic.”
His gaze flicked over to the dancers, then back to me, gleaming with mischief. “Tragic, maybe. But suddenly, the view improved.”
I masked it with another sip of my drink, keeping my tone flat. “That line probably works better on girls who don’t have working brains.”
He chuckled, low and unbothered, like my sarcasm was dessert. “Smart mouth. I like that.”
I gave him a side glance, all lashes and boredom. “Don’t get attached.”
His smile tilted sharper, but then—unexpectedly—he straightened, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “As entertaining as this is, I’ve got things to attend to.”
I blinked. That was… abrupt. Most men at bars stuck like gum to your shoe the second you acknowledged them. He glanced at me once more, those eyes cutting through the dim light like a blade, then he stood.
“It was nice chatting with you, Nyxthera.” His voice lingered—smooth, final—before he turned and walked away.
For a moment, I just sat there, glass frozen halfway to my lips. Oh. That was… different. I half-expected him to circle like the rest of them, hanging around until rejection became public humiliation. But no—he just left. Confident, untethered.
My eyes followed him through the haze of cheap neon and worse cologne, catching the way heads turned when he passed. Dangerous men usually carried their own gravity, pulling everything into their orbit. He didn’t even look back.
I snorted softly, shaking my head as I tipped back the last of my drink. “Well, damn.”
Maybe I was a little too used to mortals tripping over themselves for my attention. Maybe I liked that he hadn’t.
But I wasn’t about to admit that. Not even to myself.
Unknown POV
The room was lit only by a few dim bulbs, the smell of iron and smoke thick in the air. Chains rattled as the vampire shifted weakly, her wrists raw where the cuffs dug into her pale skin. She hissed, fangs barely visible, but the fight had long drained from her body.
I stood there, arms tense at my sides, watching the life bleed out of her little by little. A part of me clenched—something about it didn’t sit right.
“Anything new?” I asked, voice low, directed toward the man beside me.
My father didn’t answer right away. He was busy tightening a chain around her neck, like she could still do anything in her state. Finally, he straightened, his voice sharp. “You sound tired. This is what we do. Don’t look at her like that.”
“She’s a woman,” I muttered before I could stop myself. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
His eyes cut into me, cold and merciless. “Don’t start. She’s not a woman. She’s a creature. You know that.”
Still, my chest felt tight. “What if instead of… this, we just sent them back? To wherever they belong. Let them stay in their world instead of—”
The sound of his palm striking my face cracked through the silence. My head snapped to the side, the sting immediate.
“Foolish boy,” he snarled. “Do you think this is about kindness? About giving them a choice? This is survival. This is business. Do you think you’d be sitting here in decent clothes, eating good meals, if not for this?” He gestured to the vampire, his eyes burning. “This is our livelihood. Our birthright.”
I swallowed hard, tasting the bitterness of my own silence.
He leaned in, voice like steel. “Do it. Prove you’re not soft.”
The room was silent, every other man watching. My hand tightened around the blade at my hip. I moved forward slowly, the vampire’s crimson eyes meeting mine. There was something there—fear, maybe, or hatred. Maybe both.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, too low for anyone else to hear. Then, with a swift motion, I drove the blade through her heart.
She gasped, then went still. The chains clinked once before falling silent.
The room erupted in cheers, rough voices praising, clapping me on the back. My father’s hand landed heavy on my shoulder. He leaned close, his breath warm against my ear.
“This is a family thing. For years, generations. And it won’t end with you. Don’t act like it’s your first. You’ll kill many more. That’s your duty.”
One of the men barked a laugh from the corner. “Maybe he’s gone soft ‘cause he’s spending too much time around one of them.”
I rolled my eyes, jaw tightening. “That’s a stupid joke.”
But my father only smirked, gaze sharp and curious. “Could that be true?”
“No,” I shot back quickly.
He shrugged, that dangerous little grin never leaving his face. “Good. Because the next hunt, boy… I expect you to catch one yourself.”
The room filled with laughter again, but I didn’t laugh. I just stood there, the weight of what I’d done pressing down like chains of my own.
The crazy thing is, it’s not like it is my first time killing one of these.
Nyxthera POV
By the time I got back from the bar, the apartment felt way too quiet. Still no sign of James. Typical. I kicked my heels off, padded to the kitchen, and rummaged for something edible that didn’t require actual cooking. Halfway through deciding between toast or just giving up, footsteps creaked down the hall.
I froze, then leaned out the doorway. His figure appeared in the dim light—broad shoulders, familiar gait—but his face… his face wasn’t right. Jaw clenched, eyes dark, lips pressed so tight it looked painful. He didn’t even glance at me, just stormed past and straight into the bathroom, shutting the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
I raised a brow. Charming.
Minutes later, he came back out, damp hair sticking to his forehead. Cleaner, but still carrying that storm-cloud mood around his shoulders. I crossed my arms. “So… this is your definition of ‘I’ll be back shortly?’”
That finally cracked him. He sighed, almost sheepish. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect the meeting to take so long.”
I studied him closely, tilting my head. “Did you… get into a fight?”
He blinked, then let out a short laugh. “What kind of question is that?”
“Your face doesn’t look the same as when you left.”
“Fight with who? I was in a meeting with my father.”
“So what—you had a brawl with your old man?” I smirked, one brow arched.
That earned a real laugh, the kind that softened his edges. “Come on, no.”
I shrugged, grabbed some ice from the freezer, and pressed it against his cheek anyway. He didn’t move, just watched me with that crooked smile of his. When he leaned in and kissed me, it was quick, but it left a warmth that the ice couldn’t chill.
“So,” he said, voice lighter now. “How was your day? Anything fun?”
I hesitated, Lucian’s face flashing in my mind for a split second. My lips parted, but… nah. Not tonight. I just shook my head. “Nope. Just a regular, boring day.”
His gaze lingered on me longer than necessary, like there was something he wanted to say but swallowed back. I pretended not to notice and rubbed my hand along his chest—until he suddenly caught my wrist.
I frowned. “What?”
He shook his head quickly, laughing it off. Too quickly. Which, of course, made me more curious. I brushed him off and tugged at his shirt until I saw it—the tattoo etched over his chest. I froze.
“I’ve seen that before… haven’t I?”
His lips tightened, but he nodded once. Then he shoved a piece of bread in his mouth like that was going to distract me.
“I’m still heading out tomorrow,” he mumbled between bites.
“Hmmm. Okay,” I said slowly, narrowing my eyes. “And this tattoo… what does it mean?”
He met my stare, held it for a long beat, then sighed, looking tired in a way that had nothing to do with his body. “It’s nothing. Just… something inspired by my father.”
I studied him a second longer. He clearly wasn’t going to give me more, so I dropped it. For now. “Fine.” I turned, brushing crumbs off my fingers. “Goodnight. I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow, too.”
And without waiting for him to answer, I slipped out of the kitchen, leaving his secrets where they belonged—for tonight.
If he is hiding anything from me, I will find out.