Staring in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. In the past, I’d been lonely and unhappy. I’d defined my life by my career, and my heart hadn’t even been in it. I’d had no idea who I was or any plans to find out. But now I had the opportunity. I couldn’t waste it.

Clarence entered my sitting room just as the clock chimed for the fifth time. His face was somber as he led me down the hallway. We stopped at the large double doors and waited while they were opened from within.

Cyrus’s rooms were much larger than mine. The parlor boasted a painted ceiling where cherubs looked down from a sunny sky. It was a striking contrast to the marble statues of nude women in the grasps of winged demons that flanked the fireplace.

Cyrus was seated at a small table in the center of the room. There were no corpses, as promised. Two champagne flutes and a large crystal decanter full of blood were laid out before him. He stood when I entered.

“Look at you.” His eyes glittered with genuine appreciation. “You’re more beautiful every time I see you.”

“You look pretty good yourself.” It wasn’t an empty compliment, though anything was better than his pirate outfit from before. He wore a simple, button-down black shirt and black pants, and his hair was tied back. He looked surprisingly modern, and I found it easy to imagine he was a different person from the man who’d wreaked so much havoc in my life.

Maybe that’s what I’d have to do. Live in denial to stand living at all. But I’d been doing that for far too long already.

I cleared my throat. “I’m glad to see the leather pants couldn’t make a return appearance.”

Clearly, he interpreted this as an insult. “I beg your pardon? Leather is very fashionable.”

“In 1997.” I sat in the chair Clarence pulled out for me and spread my napkin across my lap. “And I must tell you I’m not really big on the whole ‘Satan Goes to Versailles’ vibe you’ve got going on here.” He ignored me and poured some of the blood into my glass. It fizzed slightly as it hit the glass.

“Let me guess. Poison?” Knowing better than that, I took a sip and let the fluid roll slowly across my tongue, savoring its sweet flavor.

“Champagne. Think of it as a bloody mimosa.” He laughed at his own joke before he went on. “I thought we had reason to celebrate tonight.” He filled his glass and took a long swallow.

I eyed him incredulously. “What are we celebrating exactly?”

A wickedly satisfied smirk stretched across his face. “Your fall from grace.”

“Hold on there, buddy. I haven’t done anything yet.” I’d learned from past experience that he would try to tempt me, to appeal to the monster in me. I also knew I was more receptive to the possibility now than I had been when he’d tried to lure me before. But he didn’t need to know that. Then again, he probably already did.