Page 51 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Four

I finger the stain. The fabric is thicker there, still a little stiff with a life drained from flesh.

My stomach swims. I take a breath.

I will not be disgusted by this dress. I will wear it with honor.

I may know absolutely nothing about my family, but I won’t believe I was born from something evil. My family must have had a story, a reason to do what they did, even if it wasn’t the right one.

“I feel ready,” I finally tell Bran.

His gaze meets my reflection in the mirror, and he gives me a nod. “Then let’s not keep them waiting any longer.”

As Bran and I make our way through Bramwell Park, my heart starts thumping against the back of my throat.

I don’t want to be nervous.

“Can’t you compel the anxiety out of me?” I ask him, my arm tightly woven through the crook of his. He can see much better in the dark than I can. Even though Arion’s invitation said to meet him on the moonlit side of Bramwell Pond, there is barely a moon in sight.

Which means if I survive tonight, tomorrow Rita will finally undo my binding spell on the new moon.

Arion couldn’t have better timing.

“I’m not compelling you,” Bran answers.

“Why not?”

“Because you need every instinct you possess.”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “I could do without the anxiety.”

He pulls me down one of the paved bike paths that eventually hugs close to the shore of Bramwell Pond. I don’t know which side is the moonlit side, but Bran seems to have a destination in mind.

Crickets and frogs chirp and croak in the darkness. The air is warm, with a slight breeze that makes the dry leaves of the underbrush scrape and rattle.

Bran finally comes to a stop where the bike path curves back toward the opposite park entrance.

“Is this it?” I ask.

He looks around. “This is it.”

The night is still. There’s no one around.

“Is it a trap?” My stomach spins and I look down at my dress again, and at the long skirt pooled around my slippered feet. I couldn’t run in this thing if I tried.

Bran’s dark brow furrows, eyes narrowing.

“What?” I ask.

“The air is different. Do you feel it?”

“Different? How—”

I cut myself off when a faint break of light wavers off to my left. There are two birch trees with trunks that curve away from one another but canopies that curve back, forming what almost looks like a doorway.

I let go of Bran and take a step. He mirrors me, keeping less than a foot between us.

His nearness makes me bold and I reach out, waving my hand through the air.

And suddenly a doorway appears…

---