You could barely even hear your own thoughts as the sound of chatter mixed with the music playing through the speakers of the bar, the sound of gothic music blasting into everybody’s ears.

This wasn’t just any bar, no, this was a bar intended to cater specifically goths, which you blended perfectly into since you were more or less the epitome. It was a place where you knew you would get what you came for, or at least, you stood the highest chance at getting what you came for.

You had met a guy tonight, a guy who’s name was Dean, and you two had hit it off pretty well. The only reason he’d come here of all places is it was the nearest bar within the quarter mile, not to mention the drinks were half off tonight.

But — there was just a slight issue.

Long story short, he was a hunter, and you were a vampire. Your job was basically to recruit human beings back to your vampire nest by turning them, and his, well, his was basically to kill your kind.

Your intentions were to turn him, to bring him back to your vampire family, and he hadn’t at all suspected that you were what he was supposed to be looking out for.

Oops.

“C’mon, sweetheart, let me buy you a drink,” he coaxed. “Just one.”