Byron got that tingle in her stomach that she had felt long ago, the feeling of hunting prey. She looked over to the barman and said, “A vodka and Coke and the same again for me, please.”

“Right away, Ms. Debrek,” the barman said.

That was the drawback of fame, when you wanted anonymity. Everyone knew who she was in this town.

“You’re the Byron Debrek? The billionaire?”

What was the need to lie? She could compel her to forget anyway. Or to die, the voice inside her said.

“The banker, yes. May I know your name?” Byron asked.

“Angelica,” she said, blushing.

Who could be better prey than an innocent, sweet girl? After all, that was what she was craving—her own innocent, sweet girl, Amelia.

Their drinks arrived, and Byron said, “To you, Angelica.”

The tingle inside her was growing and growing. She caressed Angelica’s face and neck with her gaze. She could hear the blood rushing around her body, and she could almost taste how sweet her blood would be.

On a whim, Byron cupped Angelica’s cheek and looked deep into her eyes to compel her. “Tell me, Angelica, what brings you to a bar midafternoon?”

Angelica stared right back at her, slightly dazed. “I’ve just come from a job interview. I didn’t get the job, and it was my last hope to pay the rent this month.”

“How long since you’ve had a job?” Byron asked.

“Ever since I got pregnant last year. I was a dancer at a club, and as soon as they found out I was pregnant, they let me go.”

Not her. It can’t be her, Byron told herself repeatedly. This woman already had enough difficulties, but Byron’s hunger was demanding.

“Tell me, who do you have at home?” Byron asked. Maybe if she kept talking she could stop herself.

“Just my little girl,” she said.

Byron was fighting her hunger, and losing. She reached out and grabbed Angelica’s wrist, then pulled it to her lips. Bite, drink her. Drink her blood now. She felt the pressure in her gums as her teeth started to erupt. “I don’t want to do this,” Byron said painfully.

“What don’t you want to do?” Angelica asked.

“Keep talking to me—tell me everything about you. Stop me from hurting you,” Byron pleaded.

Under Byron’s compulsion, she began to babble about her life like an automaton. The painful hunger Byron was feeling began to take over her senses, and she no longer heard the words Angelica was saying. All she could hear was the blood pumping in her veins.

Byron couldn’t stop herself any more. She quite calmly said to Angelica, “You’ll stand and quietly follow me out of the bar. You won’t look back and you won’t struggle.”

“I won’t look back and I won’t struggle,” Angelica repeated.