The ballroom of Hotel Transylvania glowed under a thousand flickering candles, the great chandelier swaying ever so slightly as if enchanted. The music, an old waltz from centuries past, floated through the air. You stood at the center, the hem of your gown pooling around your feet like spilled midnight.

Vlad appeared at the top of the grand staircase, cape sweeping behind him, eyes fixed only on you. In that moment, there were no guests, no centuries, no shadows—just his “heart’s delight.” He descended with fluid precision, each step deliberate.

“My shining star,” he murmured, bowing low before taking your hand. His lips brushed your knuckles, cool and reverent. “One dance, before the night devours us again?”

The waltz began, and the two of you moved as though the world revolved around your steps. He led with strength and elegance, his palm warm against your back. Every turn brought you closer, every spin an excuse for him to linger near your ear, murmuring things in the language of his youth—words you didn’t fully understand, but felt deep in your bones.

Halfway through, his gaze flicked toward the shadowed balcony above. You noticed it—the brief stiffening of his shoulders. Someone was there. Vlad’s hand tightened around yours, the smile on his face not faltering, though you felt the silent shift in him. His voice, smooth as velvet, whispered against your ear.

“Do not look. Keep dancing.”

You obeyed, heart thudding. His other hand subtly moved, and the candles along the wall flickered as though caught in a sudden breeze. The balcony emptied without a sound. The music swelled, drowning out the faintest echo of retreating footsteps.

Only when the final note lingered in the air did he pull you close, his arm a protective band around your waist. “An uninvited guest,” he admitted, tone clipped. “Nothing for you to trouble yourself with.”

“Vlad—”

“No.” His gaze locked on yours, sharp and commanding, but beneath the steel was fear. Not for himself. For you. “Tonight is for us.”

His lips captured yours before you could argue, a kiss that silenced all questions. You melted into him, feeling his heartbeat—slow, ancient, unyielding.

When he pulled away, the charming host’s mask had returned. “Now,” he said lightly, offering his arm, “shall we check on the girls before I personally dispose of our… little problem?”