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something, which drew my eyes. Three people were approaching. The two in the back looked older. One was a stocky, somewhat burly pirate like man with curled mustaches and long wavy hair. He carried a little extra weight but had striking features either way. He was dressed in old fashioned clothes that looked impressively expensive.

The woman was tall, stern, and terrifying beside him. I couldn't say what it was, exactly, but I felt certain she could smear me across the truck with a wave of her hand. The thought sent a chill through me.

The man in front of them must have been The Prince I'd been hearing about. He wore more modern clothes, like an embellished version of the school uniform I'd seen people wearing. It had a raised collar and intricate red stitching accented along the sleeves and edges. He looked straight out of just about every YA vampire movie I'd ever seen. Pale, perfect skin. Proud, elegant features. Bedroom eyes with long eyelashes.

He stuck his hand out for Riggs to shake first, but Riggs just looked at it and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

Seeing the vampires next to Riggs emphasized how much of a brute he was. He was big and round with muscles where the vampires were lean and lithe. He was rugged and rough where they were smooth and sleek.

The Prince ignored Riggs' slight and reached for me to shake his hand. "You must be Sylvie," he said with no hint of an accent.

For some reason, I'd been expecting an accent.

I nodded, shaking his hand. It was a little cold, but not corpse-like, as I'd been anticipating. The Prince met my eyes, and I felt the strangest tingle in the back of my head, a little like being lightheaded but also like when your foot falls asleep. Riggs was beside me, physically pulling me back from the handshake and positioning himself between us.

The sensation in my head passed, and the Prince grinned faintly.

"Is my sister okay?" I asked.

"She is strong," The Prince said.

The pirate one behind The Prince stepped forward, giving a slight bow to introduce himself before he spoke. "We had several virgins on tap tonight. I'm sure she'll recover just fine."

"Uh," I said.

The dark-haired woman blinked heavy-lidded eyes, then looked toward the smaller pirate-like man with a small smile. "Vladimir. She doesn't know our ways. Put the poor thing's mind at ease."

Vladimir pulled at the curly end of his mustache, then shrugged. "When a human transitions to our kind, their body starts feeding on its own blood. Either introduce an outside source, or they shrivel up and die within a week or two. Your sister just needed a little shot of blood. And virgin blood is the best."

"It's actually not," The Prince explained with a conspiratorial smile. "My father is old fashioned. He has a hard time letting go of traditions."

"And my son is a blockheaded idiot who wouldn't know virgin blood from red wine." Vladimir accented his statement by grabbing the taller Prince's shoulders and giving him a little good-natured shake. “Little shit gets a title, starts a rebellion, and suddenly thinks he knows more than his old man, doesn’t he?”

The Prince took it affably enough, but his expression hardened when he looked back to Riggs. "They tell me you're no friend of our kind."

"They tell you correctly. Want to know how many of yours I've put in the dirt?"

"That won't be necessary,” the woman said.

Riggs stepped toward the woman, eyes hard. "Tell me. Why are two of the most powerful vampires propping up their son and calling him a Prince. Hoping people will assume you're the King and Queen?"

"We didn't name him anything," Vlad said. "The resistance was born, and it named him the leader." He shrugged. "Not our fault if they have shit taste." He barked a laugh and slapped his son again on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger.

The Prince looked to his father with an unreadable twist of his lips. Was that mirth or annoyance?

"Either way," The Prince said. "You can just call me Victor, if the titles make you uncomfortable."

"I don't really give a shit either way," Riggs said.

"Can we trust you to stay here without causing violence?" Victor asked.

"Can I trust your vamps to stay away from her?" Riggs countered.

My breath caught. I'd sort of forgotten I existed, but now they were all looking at me, and the longer the silence held, the more meaning seemed to come from his question. Don't be an idiot, Sylvie, I thought. He's just trying to make sure he completes his stupid job so he can try to extort money out of you. That's all this is for him.

"We don't pretend to control our students, staff, or friends," Victor said. "That's the essence of our rebellion from The Coven. We're all free people. Free minds. Individuals with thoughts, dreams, and desires."

“People,” Riggs said, twisting the word like it tasted sour.

Victor nodded. To his credit, he showed no sign of being bothered by Riggs’ jabs. “Our worlds have a long history. Part of what I hope to accomplish is finding a way to mend the hostilities. If staying here helps you see us as people and not monsters, then we’ll be happy to have you as a guest.”

Riggs looked like he was seriously considering punching Victor in the neck. I grinned a little. As much as his lack of tact and brutishness grated when it was directed at me, I had to admit I kind of enjoyed watching him at that moment. "Right. Well, tell your free minded individuals to keep their thoughts, dreams, desires, and hands the fuck away from Sylvie. If they can do that, you'll have no issues from me."

Victor didn't smile right away, and when he did, I wondered if it was genuine. There was something about the man I wasn't sure I liked. He seemed too calculated. Too smooth.

"Fair enough," Victor said, clapping his hands once. "I've prepared rooms for you. Given the

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