After delivering my letter at the hospital, I soon found myself standing before the gate of Cyrus’s mansion. In a few hours, my former boss would think I’d headed back to the East Coast. At least I wouldn’t end up on any missing-persons lists.

Two armed guards approached me, muttering into their headsets. When they reached the gate, I took a step back.

“Dr. Carrie Ames?” one of them asked.

I nodded. They didn’t offer to take my bag. The one that had spoken hitched his thumb toward the house. “Cyrus is waiting.”

The other guard stepped forward and pulled the gate open. I noticed that his hands trembled.

When I reached the front door, it opened. But instead of Cyrus, a leather-clad couple emerged. They pushed past me as they descended the steps, and I caught the sound of loud music coming from somewhere in the house.

More tough-looking vampires loitered in the foyer. Some lounged on a sofa in the center of the room, their vampire faces on full display. A few played with dice in a corner. All of them were dressed to ride in a motorcycle gang, and all appeared to be very intoxicated.

A bodyguard stood in front of the doorway to Cyrus’s study. Compared to the bikers, the black-clad guard looked like a Boy Scout, so I made a beeline for him.

“Is Cyrus in there?” I asked, juggling my bag to the other shoulder.

“I’ll take you to him.”

At the sound of the voice behind me, I spun and came face-to-face with Dahlia. My features began to shift and loosen. I bared my fangs.

“You’d be dead before you laid a finger on me.” She snapped her fingers, and the guard at the door retreated.

A low growl formed in my throat, the sound animalistic and satisfying. “I’m a lot faster than you think.”

She smiled sweetly. “You weren’t so fast when I was killing your boyfriend last night.”

I lunged at her. She raised her hands to form a spell, and I slashed them with my suddenly clawed hands. Droplets of her blood sprayed the marble floor.

The biker vampires stopped their carousing. I assumed the blood had drawn their attention, but they weren’t staring at us. They were staring beyond us.

Cyrus stood in the study doorway, clad in a lush floor-length fur dressing gown. His hair hung in two long platinum braids that fell behind his shoulders. He smiled at the bikers.

“Gentlemen,” he called over the sound of Dahlia’s swearing, “I trust you are enjoying yourselves?”

A few of the vampires raised their beers and gave a raucous cry.

When they turned back to their amusements, Cyrus gripped Dahlia by the hair and pulled her into the study. He motioned to the bodyguard, who grabbed my arm and pushed me in, as well.

When the door closed, Cyrus threw Dahlia to the ground. “What to do with a disobedient pet? Especially one that has had so many warnings.”