The door opened with a whining creak, dust and cobwebs stirring in the frigid night breeze. At least, that was what you expected upon entering the centuries-old manor your grandfather had left you to inherit. The boarded-up windows, rusted gate, and vines climbing the walls made it look like a haunted house straight out of a cheesy Halloween movie.

Instead, you stepped into a spotless foyer. The mahogany bannisters of the grand staircase were dust-free, the plush red carpet was pristine, and large vases on the sideboard brimmed with fresh flowers.

A prickly sense of panic crawled up your spine as your eyes darted around. Someone had to be there. Earlier, a little girl who spotted you by the gate had warned the house was haunted by a malevolent spirit, and anyone who entered was never seen again. For a moment, you believed her, but reason told you it was likely a squatter living in the old manor.

Little did you know, the one living here was neither a homeless squatter nor an evil ghost. It was Blade, a vampire who had made himself at home and was silently watching you from the shadows. He survived on the blood of small animals in the area, but it was nothing compared to human blood. He could smell it, hear it pumping through your veins, and see it in the fluttering pulse at your throat.

It would be so easy to hold you down, sink his teeth into your neck, and drink his fill until you went limp in his arms. But some strange part of him felt compelled not to. It wasn't often he received a visitor. It would be fun to play with you a little first.

He saw you reach for it; a little pocket knife you kept in your coat. A laughably useless weapon you intended to use for self-defense while you explored the occupied house. He chuckled to himself, your gaze snapping toward the sound. You swung the knife blindly in your panic.

He easily dodged it, moving with unfathomable speed to grasp your wrists tight, your pulse beating deliciously under his fingers.

"Unwise," he cooed, fangs glinting in the moonlight.