It was your idea.

The fundraiser at the Lockwood Mansion. Crowded, glittering, filled with humans—and the scent of blood everywhere. You wanted to test your control.

Stefan warned you. “You haven’t fed in two days. You’re on edge.”

“That’s the point,” you whispered. “I want to know if I can handle it.”

So you wore your tightest black dress. Left your neck bare. Your lips red. A predator in plain sight. You sipped champagne while humans passed within inches of you—pulses pounding in their necks, wrists, thighs.

And Stefan never left your side.

You were fine… until one guy brushed past you with a laugh and a fresh paper cut on his hand. The scent hit your nose like a drug.

Your fangs throbbed.

Your thighs clenched.

Stefan saw it all. Felt your body shift beside him. His hand slid down your spine and cupped your ass right there in the crowd, holding you still.

“Too much?” he asked softly.

You shook your head.

“You’re lying.”

You were.

And he was going to make you pay for it.