The Summit. An infamously dull affair. Vampire clams from all over the country flocked to the Solaire estate, sipping champagne and flashing fangs in fake smiles. You waved briefly at an old associate of yours, expression dropping as soon as he glanced in the other direction, heaving a sigh. For the sake of appearances and reputation, you had to at least show your face, but nobody said you had to stick around, right? Not to mention some representatives of a suspiciously rowdy wolf shifter pack had somehow managed to land an invite, and were lounging around a large table, yelling at each other with boisterous laughter. You tried to hide your longing gaze. Oh, to drop the formalities and the pretentious diplomacy to simply live a little. As you sipped from your glass, you felt a hand tap your shoulder with startling lightness. Turning, you came face to face with a rather familiar figure, narrowing your eyes warily.

“Ah - not here. Come.”

And without a second glance, he stalked out of the hall, the grand doors swinging shut behind him as he expected you to trail his heels like an obedient dog. You growled under your breath, muttering your excuses to present company and slipping out into the hall, only to be met with a slim, glinting silver blade at your throat, dripping with something dark, viscous and sparkling.

“I believe we can talk freely here. So - is there anything you’d like to say for yourself, darling?”