Hotel Sin

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Lauren Pilla

HOTEL SINN

Lauren Pilla

Erotic Paranormal

Secret Cravings Publishing www.secretcravingspublishing.com

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Lauren Pilla

A Secret Cravings Publishing Book Erotic Paranormal

HOTEL SINN Copyright © 2011 by Lauren Pilla E-book ISBN: 978-1-61885-122-2 First E-book Publication: December 2011 Cover design by Dawné Dominique Edited by Samantha Bardarik Proof read by Rene Flowers All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Secret Cravings Publishing ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. PUBLISHER Secret Cravings Publishing www.secretcravingspublishing.com

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Dedication To my dearest friend Suz, thank you for being there. Love you girl! To my husband, for believing in me. And to Secret Cravings Publishing for giving me the opportunity.

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Lauren Pilla

HOTEL SINN Lauren Pilla Copyright © 2011

Chapter One Anastasia stood in front of the mirror getting ready for the grand opening of the new hotel built on the borderline of town. That such a large company would even consider building in her small hometown—the type where everyone knew everyone's business and secrets didn't last long —amazed her. The owners of Hotel Sinn were throwing an old-fashioned Ball in honor of its opening. Nearly a week ago, while fulfilling her shopping addiction at the city mall in the next town, a tall, slender man who looked drop-dead gorgeous in his tailor-made suit approached Anastasia. He said nothing as he stalked toward her, handing her an invitation. Anastasia looked him over. His dark, sexy bedroom eyes, handsome face, and tussled dark hair had her standing there speechless. The striking man wore smoky-grey pants and a jacket to match with a white button-down shirt that hugged his chest nicely. She saw a peek of his pale flesh between the undone top two buttons. His skin looked silky smooth, and she wanted to reach out and touch it. The man handed her the glamorous invitation, smiled the sexiest smile she'd ever seen, turned and walked away. She watched the muscles in his back rippling with each step. His suit molded to his body. His tight ass mesmerized Anastasia, and she stared like a deer caught in headlights as he continued to strut away.

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She waved her hand like a fan against her face, feeling the rush of heat across her cheeks. Good Lord, the things I would do to that man. She said a silent prayer hoping to see him again at the hotel. Anastasia was never one to obsess about a man, but he gave her the impression of danger and seduction—everything her life was not—and she wanted him. Hell, why not? I'm single, attractive, and going to a hotel party. Why not have some fun? Anastasia snapped back to reality, glanced at the invitation laying on her vanity, and read it over for the millionth time. Similar to card stock, the outline of black with gold specks looked stunning and glamorous. Embossed damask embroidery lined the right side, and the black lettering in a beautiful swirly calligraphy contrasted against the white card. "You are cordially invited to the Grand Opening of the new Hotel Sinn. A formal affair, so dress in your best, for you wouldn't want to be caught dead in anything less." She read it aloud to herself before turning back to the mirror to smooth out her long corset gown. She had an incredibly difficult time putting it on, but she still managed on her own. She'd lived by herself for the past fifteen years after her parents passed away. Of course, she had friends, but she mostly kept to herself. She liked it that way. For the special night, she'd chosen a deep-red gown, blood red when the light hit it just right. Patches of thin black swirls with a few crystals adorned the A-line skirt. With a bit of flare at the bottom, it gave her just enough fabric to twirl when she spun around. She needed spiked heels; the dress flowed well passed her feet. She held up the skirt portion and determined she needed about a four-inch heel. Checking her closet of shoes, she found the perfect match, a pair of black satin pumps. Standing at about five-feet-four-inches tall, wearing heels was nothing new and something she typically did while home alone. With no man around the house, she had to reach the top shelf somehow. The deep-red top portion, the corset, pushed her breasts up and together, giving her the best display of décolletage. Of all accessories, she favored corsets. Having more-than-average-sized breasts, her pale creamy globes spilled out ever so slightly. "No bending over in this one."

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Lauren Pilla Picking up a black choker necklace from her jewelry box, she swept her long, fiery-red,

curled hair to the side and raised her arms to clasp it together around her slender neck, arranging the jeweled charm to the center. She wanted to be any man's fantasy. She peered into the mirror, her emerald-green eyes staring back at her through long lashes. Puckering her pouty lips, she admired her pale creamy complexion and full curves. Anastasia enjoyed food—and why not? It was delicious. If she wanted a piece of cake, she had one. Skinny bitches be damned. She accented her beauty with a bit of makeup—a dab of eye shadow to give her smoky eyes, and some lipstick. "What shade to wear?" she said, rifling through her enormous box of tubes, silently thanking her shopping addiction for the vast array to choose from. "I need red, of course." Pulling out a handful of reds and pinks, she went through them all and found the most delectable one, a color called Hellbent. "This shade was so made for tonight." Anastasia pulled the top off, twisted the tube, and applied the blood-red lipstick. Staring in the mirror, she contemplated what to do with her hair. Tilting her head to the side, she lifted strands of hair up to see how it would look. She loved to wear it down, but it was a Ball, after all. A grand opening. Searching her jewelry box, she found a hair comb with a few antique silver jewels and some black beads attached to it. "Beautiful." Gathering up some of her hair, she twisted a portion and slid the comb into place. "Damn, I look hot! Mr. Danger will never be able to resist my charms…and curves." She giggled to herself. She walked out of her single bedroom, passing her only bathroom and sneaking another peek at herself in the hallway mirror. Her living room had a couch with a TV, and she ate her meals in the eat-in kitchen. Her place was very feminine, candles lining shelves and tables. Fabrics of all styles draped over windows and the couch. Colorful flowers filled vases, and

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knickknacks filled in the gaps. Small or not, she made sure to decorate every inch of her place. Once again, she thought of her shopping addiction. Glancing out the window, she checked to see if the cab had arrived. The invitation said the hosts would provide the transportation. An excellent idea, since it also mentioned an open bar. She packed the rest of her essential items into her purse—a comb, lipstick, house keys, and wallet. It all fit nicely in her new black clutch. Suddenly she heard a knock at the door. "That must be the cab." A sudden attack of the butterflies overwhelmed her, but why? She'd gone to parties before. Was it because of the sexy mystery man? She dashed over to the front door and opened it, not wanting to keep the poor cabby waiting any longer. Anastasia was flabbergasted to see a black stretch limo in front of her home. Maybe they're just making their rounds picking everyone up. The limo driver bowed his head. "Good evening, mistress," he said, hooking his arm out for her to grab. Mistress? Her movements stuttered, but she eventually grabbed the elderly gentleman's arm, and he escorted her to the vehicle. Her driver appeared in his sixties with his grey hair and wrinkles. The driver opened the door for her and helped her in. After he closed the door, she watched him hurry to his driver's seat and start the car. He moved pretty quickly for an old man. Anastasia looked around the huge stretch and realized she was all alone. Her butterflies returned full force and wouldn't give her a moment's rest. "Perhaps a drink to calm my nerves." She saw a bottle of champagne on ice and one glass. She reached for the card attached to the bottle. It read "Please enjoy, courtesy of Hotel Sinn" in a simple font. "How mysterious." She examined the champagne bottle, determined it seemed pretty safe to drink, and poured herself a glass. Seconds later, the wine glass overflowed with bubbly, and she hurried to sip it down before it spilled onto the carpeted floor. The bubbles tickled her nose, and she made a face to avoid sneezing. Twenty minutes and three glasses of marvelous champagne later, they arrived at the hotel. The company had constructed the building right at the edge of the small town. Anastasia tried to remember the construction, but it was as if it appeared overnight. Her chauffeur drove the limo

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right up to the front entrance and came to a stop. Ever the perfect gentleman, the driver opened the door and extended his arm to help her out. "Wow, he's fast," she said under her breath. Graciously accepting his arm, she stepped with one foot and then the other, using him to steady herself in the heels and the slight buzz she had going on. "Have a wonderful evening, mistress." He closed the door and hurried to his driver's seat. Anastasia wondered why he kept calling her mistress though. Shrugging it off, she assumed he'd learned it in limo driver school. She looked up at the front entrance, and the sight of the hotel awed her. The front was gorgeous, and she hadn't even entered the place yet. The outside looked like it was carved out of marble. The multicolored stained-glass windows were beautiful. Everything looked so intricate, even the magnificent sign with "Hotel Sinn" written in black gothic letters with gold specks sparkling throughout. It reminded her of the invitation. Columns lined the front and seemed to wrap all around the building. Two huge double doors that looked like they were made out of gold loomed in front of her. She whirled her head around after hearing a man call for her. "Mistress, Mistress, this way please," he said, holding his hand out to her. Not mistress again. She held up her dress with one hand and reached for the doorman with the other. Two men stood at the huge doors, one on each side. "Thank you, sir." The men wore black tuxedos, and both looked very handsome—pale, but handsome. Entering through the front doors, the interior impressed her as well, the architecture, the fabrics —she'd never seen anything like it. High, vaulted ceilings with arches seemed hand carved. More marble columns stood on a polished porcelain floor, which had a spectacular pattern like someone took white paint and swirled it with black. The floor-to-ceiling windows had ivory silk curtains. Huge paintings hung in between the windows. Moving closer to examine one of the paintings, she noticed that the people in it were naked. "Interesting." She could dig nudes. The next painting contained more naked people, but one person wore a robe.

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Deciding the rest of the paintings depicted the same type of image, she headed to the bar alone. Her butterflies had returned. Anastasia gathered up her skirt and walked across the porcelain floor; her heels clicked against the tile, but the lovely sounds of an orchestra playing nearby drowned them out. She took note of the people surrounding her and realized she knew no one. She saw not one person from her small town. How odd. She passed a couple of people having conversations with their drinks in hand and checked out the other girls. And she proclaimed herself, of course, the hottest one there. Other women, while looking pretty, were all so skinny. Some practically swam in their ball gowns, which gave at least a few women very unflattering silhouettes. Most of the men looked the same in tuxedos and black suits. She carefully checked out all the males for her Mr. Danger. "Damn, they all look so pale. I know I'm pale, but they look like they have never even seen the sun." Still no sign of him. Moving closer to the bar, she gave her order to the bartender. "Can I have a glass of white wine please?" The bar was all polished dark wood and oversized like everything else. Guests occupied all the bar stools, and she squeezed through some of the patrons to get to the front. Reaching for her drink, she noticed her dark-haired, sexy man of danger in the mirror behind the bar. Her cheeks heated, her heart fluttered, and her palms dampened, but she refused to turn around and face him like that. He triggered her nerves. Putting her glass to her lips, she let the chilled liquid flow down her throat. Composing herself, she turned around, but he had disappeared. "Damn." Had she really seen him? Mingling through the crowd, she found herself an unoccupied table and sat down. Placing her clutch and glass on top of the merlot-colored linen, she took note of the polished silverware. It looked like it weighed a ton. Surprised at the vastness of the ballroom, she counted maybe twenty-five tables spread throughout it. Even the chairs seemed elegant with merlot-colored

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cushions tied to the gold rungs on the back, themselves seeming carved just like the beams in the ceiling. "This place must cost a fortune for a room," she said. "Indeed, it does cost a heavy price to stay here," said a man with a deep voice. Anastasia looked up and gasped. It was her Mr. Danger. "May I join you?" he asked. She nodded, forgetting how to speak for a moment, and she kept her fidgeting hands on her lap so she didn't knock over her wineglass. He had a glass of his own, red wine that he placed on the table. She took note of the texture and assumed it must be a new brand, because it looked a bit thick for regular red wine. He sat, and dark-as-midnight eyes gave her a sizzling look that produced goose bumps on her arms. His face, a clean shaven masterpiece. She fixated on his lips, those pale plump and pink lips made for kissing. He smiled at her, and she blushed as she picked up her glass to fight the urge to jump his bones right there at the table. He wore a similar suit, like the last time she'd seen him at the city mall. All black, and again with a white shirt. This one appeared to have no buttons, but she saw them hidden beneath the fabric. He looked striking and sleek, like one of the male models in the Gucci ads. Thankfully, he didn't know the million naughty thoughts running through her mind. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She never acted like that. "I'm glad you came." More dirty thoughts crossed her mind. Oh Lord, help me, his voice sounds like sex. Is that even possible? “Yes, I'm glad I came too. My name is Anastasia, by the way." She held out her hand to shake his. He took her hand in his and turned it to kiss the top. His onyx eyes never left hers. Her body melted, her knees went weak, and she felt a tingle between her thighs. Staring into the man's black eyes, the world around her seemed to fade away, leaving just him and her.

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"My name is Victore." She barely heard him speak, and when he let go of her hand, she came back to reality. Weird. "Are you feeling all right?" he asked, concerned. "Yes, I'm okay; it's just a bit warm in here, and I've had a few glasses of wine already." Victore extended his hand, and she immediately took it without a thought. Get a grip, girl, control yourself. "Come, let me show you the terrace and you can get some fresh air." She could barely think with her arm in his, feeling like a hormonal teenager. Anastasia didn't go gaga over a guy like one of those brainless girls. Did she? "Do you like what you have seen so far?" he asked. Anastasia nodded slowly, regaining control over her brain cells. She liked everything, including Victore. "Everything is exquisite." She pointed to the ceiling. "Were those carved? The beams?" she asked. "Yes," he said simply, and she frowned. Music began to play as they crossed the ballroom floor. "Oh, Victore, would you care to dance with me?" she said excitedly. "I thought you wanted to get some air?" he replied. "Yes, I do, but after one dance," she pleaded. What was happening to her? Pleading? She didn't plead. He twirled her around, and she faced him and his dark, sexy eyes. His pale skin brought out every dark feature—his hair, his eyes, and his suit—against his flesh. He pulled her close to him, his arm wrapping around her waist. She felt the heat from his body and something else. No, it couldn't be. The tips of his fingers slightly grazed the top of her ass, and she nearly lost it. Her breast pressed tightly against his hard, muscled chest. Her legs intermingled with his, and she inhaled, smelling his cologne, an aroma of male and spices. Was there anything better? Her fingers entwined with his, and they moved to the beat of the classical notes that flowed from the piano. True to the old-fashioned ways, someone actually played the piano, the violins, the cellos—a whole orchestra. Victore spun, twirled, and dipped Anastasia with grace and

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sophistication in time with the elegant music. She felt like a princess floating on a cloud. Suddenly the world around her had disappeared again in the arms of Victore. All of a sudden, her heart raced, her chest tightened, and her body temperature rose. She struggled to breathe and felt a wave of dizziness as she tried to steady herself. "Anastasia? Anastasia?" She heard a male voice. Where was she? What happened? Everything blurred, and then Victore came into focus. He'd brought her outside on the terrace. She came to and inhaled a breath, panting as if she'd run a mile. "I think I had a panic attack," she said. "Have you had one before tonight?" "No," she replied. Victore frowned at her, captured her hands, and kissed them. She felt his cool lips lightly kiss her molten-hot skin. "My darling, I can't have you out of breath before I get to taste those precious red lips of yours." That was it, she was a goner. Was it all a dream, her fantasy man before her? She didn't care. She turned to putty in Victore's arms, and if it was a dream, she didn't want to wake up until she at least had sex with him. Come to your senses, Anastasia. At least play a little hard to get. You just had a panic attack, for crying out loud. She took a deep breath and pulled her hands away from Victore. She took note of the scenery around her as she peered over the terrace balcony. She was two stories up. Greenery spread for miles—tall trees, grass, bushes, and flowers. The foliage bloomed in typical beginning-of-fall style. A small pond with a cobblestone trail lay just beyond the forest of ferns. She found it refreshing to see a pond instead of the modern cement built-in pools that most hotels had. With no lawn chair in sight, she sighed, thinking of what it would be like to relax down there on the plush grass, enjoying the view—the perfect setting for a romantic picnic. The stars twinkled as she looked nervously beyond the horizon, feeling Victore's presence behind her.

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Anastasia took deep breaths, and just when she'd thought she had herself under control, Victore's arms suddenly slinked around her waist, and she shrieked. Her heart beat in her throat, and his hands held her body hotly. His long fingers curled around her ribs right below her full breasts. "Anastasia, tell me, have you ever fucked someone after just meeting them?" he said, his breath hot against her ear. She sucked in a breath. Heat flooded her cheeks, as well as her groin. "No," she whispered. "Then I believe tonight is your lucky night." He nipped her earlobe. His words sounded like sex to Anastasia's ears, and she felt his lips on the back of her neck, giving her slow methodic kisses. Teeth skimmed her flesh. She was on fire for him. Her hands balled up into fists from the anticipation as his fingers trailed up to her breasts to pull down her corset, revealing her creamy flesh. She gasped as the cool air grazed her nipples, hardening them instantly. He stood behind her; she could feel his arousal stiffening against her back. He stood a few inches taller than her, even with her heels on. "These are lovely," he said as he squeezed her tits. "I want to put my mouth on them. I want to suck them and swirl my tongue around your hard buds," he said seductively as he rolled her nipples, twisting and pinching them. "Would you like that, Anastasia?" he said huskily. "Yes," she rasped. He moved around to face her, capturing her mouth with his. She moaned into his kiss. Her skin boiled, and the tingle between her thighs began to throb as his crafty fingers continued to play with her nipples. His tongue felt delicious in her mouth. Thrusting and twirling, his teeth scraped her tongue as it moved in and out. Victore left her mouth and moved his hot lips south, kissing his way down to her breasts. He nipped at her flesh with every kiss. His mouth attached to the hard nubs, and she moaned as her head went back in pleasure. Anastasia's body was so sensitive to his every touch, his every nibble, his every lick. His hands gripped her hips, and she felt the pressure of his digits squeezing her, massaging her sides with his thumbs. Caught up in the moment of him teasing the hell out of her, she didn't even

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realize she leaned up against the stone wall. The rock felt cold and rough against her heated flesh. Ivy leaves prickled her hands as she steadied herself on the rough surface. She wanted this —she'd dreamed of this moment since she'd met him. Victore, her sex god for the night, was about to fuck her senseless outside in the cool brisk air Victore's hands skated down the length of her gown, ripping it up the side, leaving just enough fabric together to hold it up. His callused hands slid up her thighs, and he ripped her flimsy cotton panties off. Her fingers fisted in his dark hair as her body thrummed with anticipated pleasure. She was so wet and ready for his assault of ecstasy. She had never expected to be fucked outside though. She'd imagined she'd follow him to his hotel room, but outside exhilarated her. Her senses heightened, and she felt every caress of his finger, every lick of his tongue, and every grind of his cock. "Open your legs for me, darling." His fingers stroked her pussy, and she exploded. One finger slid in her wet juices, and then two, and he thrust them in out like his tongue had in her mouth. "You like this, Anastasia?" he said, his voice rough. "Yes," she whimpered. He continued to pleasure her with his fingers hard and fast, fucking her pussy. His other hand slid around her throat, creating barely any pressure, but it thrilled her to have the trapped feeling. "Unbutton my pants, sweetness," he whispered in her ear as his mouth nibbled along her frail neck. Anastasia's hands reached for his pants, and her fingers trembled as she undid his pants, moaning with each thrust of his finger into her pussy. She could barely concentrate. Pulling his zipper down, her hands found his hard length. She pushed his pants down, and they fell to his knees. He wore boxers, and she quickly pulled them down as well. Anastasia looked her fill at how big he was and then licked her lips. Thick, long, and hard. She wanted him inside her, all of

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him. Her hands wrapped around his thick cock, and she began to stroke him. The dark curls of his pubic hair tickled her fingers, and she heard him growl in her ear. Her excitement intensified. "You want my cock in you, sweetness?" he said, panting. "I want you to fill me, Victore. I want you to fuck me hard." She didn't even recognize her voice. She feverishly kissed his mouth hard, fast, and desperate, and then in one swift motion he thrust his cock inside her to the hilt. Nothing sensual about it, just hard, needy fucking up against the terrace wall. The stars lit the dark night, revealing no one around them. Everyone enjoyed the party inside. He pumped into her hard, grabbing her thighs through her ripped dress, and wrapped her legs around him for a deeper angle. She moaned in ecstasy as he continued his fastpaced rhythm. "Oh, love, your pussy is so tight," he panted. Anastasia felt Victore's hands palm her ass as he pounded into her. Her hands fisted into his soft locks when she felt his teeth on her neck. Did he bite her? It didn't matter. She was getting what she wanted—pleasure from a man. A man whom she thought was danger personified, whom she'd lusted for at first sight. A few more hard thrusts and she'd rocket into the most intense orgasm of her life. "Victore," she pleaded. He looked at her with those onyx eyes and gave her a wicked smile. "Come for me, my sweetness. Scream your pleasure," he said as his cock rammed her again. Again and again he pumped. Anastasia screamed when her orgasm hit. She felt Victore come as well, growling as his hot seed jetted inside her. After, with her legs still wrapped around him, she held on to him, relaxed, and laid her head on his shoulder. It felt as if she'd come down off a high. She felt drained. "Rest, sweetness. I will take care of you." She barely heard Victore speak. "What?" she asked. Suddenly, her world became fuzzy. She tried to focus, but then it went dark.

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Chapter Two Victore paced back and forth in front of a sleeping Anastasia. He'd carried her back to his hotel suite after an incredible night on the terrace. He should have brought her back as one of the human sacrifices—fresh blood for the family to enjoy. But there was something about her, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He breathed in her sweet aroma and enjoyed the intoxicating scent of fresh berries. Victore stopped pacing and stared at her creamy white flesh. Vivid memories of that flesh pressed up against him raced through his mind. He had removed her torn corset dress and covered her with the black satin sheets that fitted to his bed. He licked his lips, watching her peacefully slumber. He watched her chest rise and fall, her red hair sprawled out around his pillow—a true sleeping beauty. Her scent permanently embedded into his nose, and he'd never get enough of her. Victore wanted nothing more than to crawl back into the bed and wake her for another round of sex. Next time he would take his time exploring her, caressing her. Tender, he thought. He wanted to be tender with her. "What is wrong with me? Tender. I'm not tender with anyone. I'm ruthless, vindictive. I'm a vampire!" He resumed pacing, contemplating the foolish idea of bringing her there in the first place. A knock at the door stopped him in his tracks, and Victore opened it to one of the servants. "Sorry to disturb you, my lord, but the Master wishes to speak with you," an older gentleman said. "Of course, Henry, thank you." He nodded and followed the elderly male, leaving Anastasia naked and unguarded in his bed.

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The gentleman wore a butler suit and a smile on his face. Anything asked of Henry, no matter how big or small, he did with a bounce in his step. Clearly he earned special attention as one of the Master's favorite servants and one of the only few vampires who aged. Leaving the hotel for any length longer then an hour would cause them to rapidly age. The more the vampires left, or the longer they stayed out, lead to a permanent aged state. Victore remembered a time when Henry appeared young and strong. He’d been a boy when Henry served the current Master’s father. Back then Henry boasted about how many times he’d left the hotel, always returning to his young appearance. The master had warned him not to leave as much, warned him he could stay aged. But Henry proclaimed his invincibility. The hotel went through countless changes, beginning early as a medieval castle. Every hundred years, Hotel Sinn appeared in the same location with an updated facelift; however, the items made out of wood remained the same, leaving everything else to become modern. The hotel was a living masterpiece with a mind of its own. When in view of the public, anyone may enter, but no one may leave. Only wearing a special medallion allowed one to leave the estate, and only for a small period of time, or they risked death. Centuries ago, just a mere boy, Henry had gone about his usual day tasked with watching the young Master. However, the young Master, Fredrick, curious about the world outside the castle, wandered out of the confines of his safe haven. Henry, who'd only taken his eyes off the boy for a minute, feared the worst when he lost sight of him and ran out of the castle to search for Fredrick. After three hours of searching, Henry found the young Master, who appeared aged to his early forties. The Master, frightened, cold, and weak, easily allowed Henry to drag him back to castle. Once inside, the Master rejuvenated, returning to his younger self; however, from the exposure to the outside world, his mental recovery took much, much longer. Unfortunately, Henry didn't lose much of his age and remained looking sixty. Victore knew Henry never forgave himself for that night. Reaching the conference room, Henry opened the door and invited Victore in.

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Lauren Pilla "Ah, Fredrick, you wanted to see me?" Victore asked. "Yes, Victore, my second in command. How is the young female? I saw you with her last

eve and was wildly excited about the thought of draining her dry. You know it's a treat for us to have fresh blood after so many years of feeding from each other." "I know, my old friend. It's but every one hundred years we can indulge ourselves in the pleasures of hot, fresh, metallic liquid." He bowed his head, hoping Fredrick didn't see the disgust in his eyes. He hated the ritual. Poor unsuspecting souls lured to the hotel, drained of all their blood so the Master and the other vampires could have something fresh. He scoffed at the idea. He had no problem drinking blood from other vampires. Sure, the smell of hot blood from a living body enticed him, even excited him, but not enough to want to drain them. Victore did have some morals. Other than that he took what he wanted from who he wanted. The perks of second in command to the Master, no one said no to him. "Is there something wrong, Victore?" "No, Master, I'm fine. Is there anything else you need from me?" Victore asked. "Have you seen how the other females are doing? "I don't know, Master. I haven't seen them, just Anastasia." "Anastasia? You call her by name? How many times have I told you not to use their names? It makes it so much harder when we drain them." "Is that all, my lord?" he said angrily. "I shall check in on you in two days to see if we need any more preparations for the ritual on Friday," Fredrick said. He nodded and headed to the kitchen. He hopped Anastasia still lay sleeping in his bed. Entering the kitchen, the chefs busily chopped onions and carrots for beef stew. The delicious smells wafted around him. "Mmmm, it smells wonderful in here. But then it always does." Vampires ate food for the taste and texture, nothing more than empty calories like a bag of cheese doodles. Blood sustained them. Blood vitalized them. Some vampires donated blood and

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placed it in bottles for later consumption. Others violently took from a vein. Victore headed to the subzero fridge, avoiding a collision with one of the chefs carrying a boiling pot of water. He grabbed a bottle of blood and warmed it by a brick-oven fire. The kitchen had all the amenities of the modern day, but he still preferred to use the fire than a microwave, which made the blood taste funny. He swiped a tray from one of the ladies washing dishes. "Victore! What are you doing back here, causing trouble?" a woman heckled. He turned and smiled at her. "Never, Marianne," he said, grabbing two apples, a plate of cheeses, some bread, and butter. "Yeah right. Your middle name is trouble." "Oh come on now, Marianne. You used to love when I came in here," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. The pair had had their fun sneaking around for some randy sexscapes. Marianne had wised up and dumped his ass for Jeffery, the chef. Although she'd made a sensible choice with Jeffery, Victore had a suspicion he knew the love of her life, and it sure as hell wasn’t Jeffery. They'd had a teenage love, young and inexperienced. Neither one had loved each other deeply, but they cared for each other and still did. Victore congratulated her and Jeffery’s mating first by presenting them with a vintage bottle of blood. Victore watched her swoon when she sneaked a glance at her supposed love, but he sensed insincerity. Marianne put on a nice show. He’d play along with the ruse for now, but he knew she didn’t desire him. "Oh, get a room, Marianne," he said, laughing. "Oh you!" She smacked his ass with the wooden spoon in her hand as he stole a carton of juice and two glasses. "Love you, Marianne," he said as he hurried for the door. He strolled back to his room, opened the door, and placed the tray of food and drinks down on the table. The suite had a kitchenette and small eating area. The living room had the latest technology, and in his huge bedroom a king-sized bed, covered with satin sheets, dominated the chamber. Against the side wall, a luxurious dresser and armoire stood expertly arranged to maximize his space. Carved from the finest dark maple wood, it only showed the pride he took in

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his room. His sanctuary. His bathroom attached to the bedroom. Beyond lavish and filled with only the best toiletries, it emanated radiance with its nickel and chrome fixtures, expensive tiles, and classic chandelier that hung in the center of the ceiling. He went in to check on Anastasia, but found the bed empty, instead. He looked to the bathroom, found nothing, and then turned in the other direction, greeted with a vase full of calla lilies to the head. Water gushed everywhere, and the sound of broken glass stung his ears. He fell back, leaning against the wall, trying to dry his eyes. "What the fuck?" He focused on Anastasia lunging for his eye with what appeared to be a toothbrush. "Anastasia!" He grabbed her wrists. He fancied his eye very much. It would heal, but it would hurt like hell. "What are you doing, sweetheart?" "Victore? Is that you?" She rubbed her eyes. She must have just woken up. She kicked him in the leg. "Where's my dress?" She narrowed those emerald eyes at him. He thought for a minute that she would smack him next. He'd just wanted her comfortable last night, and he wouldn’t lie to himself; she looked damn sexy with her pale naked skin entangled in black sheets and her red hair spilling onto the pillows. He sighed. "I put it in my closet. It's all ripped up anyway." He smirked, walking over toward his cabinet. His shoes squeaked from the water, and his dress shirt clung to him. He unbuttoned the shirt, peeled it off, and then tossed it in a laundry basket. Victore caught her staring at his chest, and he grinned. His abs were rock solid, and he knew it. Stepping out of his wet pants, he turned to see if she still spied on him. He didn't understand anything when it came to her. It's like he lost all common sense with her around. Victore inhaled, smelling her fresh-berry scent along with her arousal. He stood naked, flipping through the clothes hanging in the closet, and taunted her, taking his time, switching his weight from one foot to the other so she could see his tight ass. Suddenly he got a whiff of himself and what he smelled like, and almost choked on the overpowering flower water.

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"I'm getting a shower," he gritted out. Tossing a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt in Anastasia's direction, he said, "Put these on for now." He grabbed a towel from his shelf and slammed the bathroom door shut. When he turned the water on as hot as it could go, steam filled the room. He sat down on the toilet seat with his elbows resting on his knees and leaned forward, placing his hands on his temples. "She looked damn fine standing in that black satin sheet wrapped around those curves of hers," he whispered. Resisting the urge to throw her down where she stood and take her there on the bedroom floor—not even his bed, but the floor. Running his fingers through his hair, he climbed into the shower and pulled the curtain, his body hot and his cock painfully erect. "Taking her once was bad enough. But to fuck her again, and what about wanting it tender?" Frustration consumed him. Infatuation with the sacrifice overwhelmed him. Damn his Master. Victore leaned up against the shower wall with a throbbing hard-on. Anastasia did that to him, made him hot, confused, and bloody hard. He didn't want her to see him like that, so out of control. What they did last night should have never happened and couldn't happen again. He'd been captivated by her green eyes, entranced by her pale skin, and enthralled by her strong will. He tried to use his powers of mind control on her when he came to her table, but she had a panic attack instead. He used a heavy dose on her last night right after sex just so he could bring her to his suite and watch over her. The other humans were isolated in a suite on the lower floor and probably scared to death. When the humans left their suite, they wouldn't return. Drained for their nutrients. A sacrifice. He shuddered. "I can't let that happen to her." He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and, thinking about Anastasia, slowly began to slide his hand up and down his cock. He thought of their encounter the night before and of her tight pussy—wet and aching, so ready for him. Victore's speed increased, and he stroked his cock

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faster and faster until he reached his release. A muffled growl escaped his throat as he began to sag against the wall. He gathered up his strength, washed his body with unscented soap, and rinsed before the water turned cold. Washing his hair, he wondered if any other potential dangerous weapons lurked in the suite and chuckled. He loved her wildness, her spirit. He'd never met anyone like her. He turned the water off and wrapped a terrycloth towel around his waist. Victore used another towel to dry his hair and let the curls fall naturally. He tensed up before entering his room, hoping she didn't find any other items to assault him with, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her sitting at the kitchenette table eating some of the goodies he'd brought up earlier. She wore his clothes. His breath quickened, and his cock twitched. Not again. My God, it's like I'm a teenager again, and fuck, that was a couple hundred years ago. Victore controlled himself, and inch by inch, he walked over to join her at the table like a respectable gentleman. He could still smell the sex on her. God, what a mess he made of things by keeping her there with him. "Well, I think a good morning is in order now that you don't appear to have any weapons handy," he said. She looked up at him with those enchanting green eyes and sipped her juice. She'd eaten a healthy portion, and it pleased him, "Good morning to you. Did you drug me or something last night? I can't remember after, you know…" she inquired with a twinge of anger. "What! No! How could you even think that?" he said, offended. "Oh, I suppose you were just that good of a fuck that I passed out from it," she said with a grin, and she put her juice down. He was at a loss for words, almost numb. The outcome had reached an undesirable chain of events. His fingers scratched his head to think, and then he smirked. "Maybe I am that good of a fuck." He couldn't tell her the truth—that he used a hell of lot of mind control and she blacked out.

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"You were tired afterward, but you must've had another panic attack and passed out," he said, proud of his answer. "Okay, then why did you leave me naked?" she asked. Jesus, now he knew why he hadn't had a female in a while. "I just wanted you comfortable. I didn't think you wanted to sleep in a constricting corset that had been torn." He smirked. Anastasia raised her eyebrow at him, must've decided to believe him, and dropped the matter. "Will you eat with me?" she asked quietly. He relaxed a bit, and with the sudden change in her demeanor, he thought her maybe demon-possessed or something. She hit him with a vase, attempted to poke his eye out with his toothbrush, and accused him of drugging her; now she wanted to eat with him. What did he get himself into? Victore cautiously sat at the table with her and started to butter some bread as Anastasia poured him some juice. "So, Victore, I had a nice, really nice time with you last night, but I do have to leave after breakfast." "You can't," he said in a steady voice. "Excuse me? Why the hell not?" she snapped. Now Victore needed to come up with something quick. What could he say; that she would basically be killed in a few days? If she left, Victore would take her place as the sacrifice. The Master would not tolerate his sacrifices running off. Then Victore remembered she wouldn't get out anyway—well, at least not off Hotel Sinn's property. The hotel only let those who hold the medallion out. Victore had no good excuse why she should stay. The real answer surely would scare her right out of those sweatpants. "You can't keep me here. I need to go home," she snapped. Victore sighed but knew that his secret would come out sooner rather then later. He gripped her wrist, used his strength to hold it

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against the table, and watched as she squirmed, trying to pull away. Anastasia shouted obscenities that even made him blush. "Let me go, asshole!" He sighed again. "Anastasia, please calm down," he said in a tired voice. "Fuck you," she spat, slamming her foot down on his. "Ouch! Damn woman!" He let her go, and she ran for the door, but instantly he cornered her against it, slamming it shut after she turned the knob to open it. "I wouldn't go out there if I were you," he warned. She spun around and gasped. From another country, he would have still smelled her fear. "Please let me go," she whimpered. "You are safer here," he growled, letting his fangs show. The horror on her face encouraged him to grin even more, showing the full length of his fangs. Anastasia, obviously in survival mode, kneed him in the balls and ran out the door. Victore went down hard, holding his crotch like his testicles were about to detach from his body. His little firecracker, he thought to himself, and he smiled.

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Chapter Three Anastasia ran as fast as she could down a long empty hallway in just a pair of oversized black sweatpants, a plain white T-shirt, no shoes, and no bra, and boy did she wish she'd had a bra. Her more-than-average-sized melons seemed to bounce all over the place. What the hell just happened back there? She had an incredible night of hot sex with a vampire? No, he can't be. He must be one of those Goth guys who liked to dress up. She felt the left side of her neck where she thought Victore had bitten her. She felt two little welts—her skin, healing. "Shit." Adrenaline raced through her body, and she just wanted to get out of there. She reached the end of the hall and turned left. Then she saw an exit for stairs and went for it. She ran on a fuel-induced panic, relying only on her gut feelings. Leaning her back against the door, she panted and tried to catch her breath. The images of last night and the morning replayed in her mind. She hit him with a vase, and he just shook it off. She woke up alone, scared, when she heard someone trying to come in. It was an accident, she thought. But she kicked him in the balls; vampire or not, a kick to the crotch made a male go down. His strength, his speed, those fangs…no, it couldn't be true. She crept down the steps slowly and quietly as a mouse. The cold metal of the stairs chilled her feet. She exhaled a sigh of relief when she made it to the bottom. The three flights of stairs seemed to feel like fifteen flights. Sweat dripped from Anastasia’s pores as she scrambled to the door that said "EXIT" and pushed it open. She prayed no one heard the noise from the creaky door. Outside! Free! Rejoicing in the sun that shone brightly down on her, she used her hand to shield the rays from her eyes as she continued running toward the gateway.

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Lauren Pilla The front gate was mere inches away when she went for it. She never ran regularly, but

today she'd do the fifty-yard dash if it got her the hell out of there. She passed the marble columns, the porte cochere, and then the fountain, but suddenly she jolted back like she hit a brick wall and landed flat on her ass. "What the hell?" She lay there, stunned, and then fury heated her cheeks, but she picked herself back up. She was going to get out of there. Ignoring the throbbing pain in her feet from the cobblestone, she held her hands out in front of her as if feeling for an invisible shield. She found it, and once again, she landed on her ass. Anastasia had no idea what she faced. A force field? Where the hell was she? Continuing to feel along the shield, she ended up behind the hotel. The forest of trees swayed in the breeze, and the pond rippled, reflecting the sun. Everything she saw from the night before. A plan started to form in her mind, and she continued to run as far as she could, hoping to reach the forest inside the force field so she could hide in it. Thrilled she'd made it to the trees, she glanced behind her and saw no one there. She wondered how far she sprinted away from the hotel. Maybe two miles, she thought. She collapsed and slid down behind one of the big fern trees to catch her breath and plan her next move. She didn't say she had a good plan, but it was the best she had at the moment. Rubbing her feet and picking rocks out from between her toes, she heard a branch snap. "Shit." Anastasia didn’t see anyone. No way did someone get to her that quickly. What if someone lived out here already? She brought her knees to her chest, put her head down, and prayed no one found her. No such luck, because she heard footsteps coming closer to her. Anastasia sobbed, feeling someone standing over her. "There you are, sweetness." She looked up and saw Victore. Too much in pain to run, she sat there waiting for him to sink his fangs into her and end her existence. Victore kneeled down to her and picked her head

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up. His black onyx eyes staring back at her. She should've known. Nobody had eyes like that. She felt stupid and betrayed. "You are a real vampire, aren't you?" she said with tears running down her face. Victore nodded. "Do it, get it over with," she said, angling her neck. She saw him lick his lips, and she stiffened, shutting her eyes, waiting for the fangs to pierce her flesh. "You're so dramatic, darling," he teased. Anastasia opened her eyes. "You're not going to kill me?" Victore took a deep breath and avoided her question. "Listen, I don't have any good news for you, but I can give you some options to make it not so bad." Her mouth hung open. "What does that mean, oh knight in shining armor?" she said sarcastically. He moved to sit across from her and reached for her hands, but she flinched. She didn't want to be touched, not by a man, not by a vampire. She wanted answers. "Anastasia, I am a vampire. I won't lie to you, and my Master does want to kill you," he said with his head down. She stiffened. "Why? I didn't do anything to him," Anastasia cried. "This hotel, Anastasia, is different than anything else out there." She knew that and had experienced it first hand trying to escape. "It's only visible to outsiders every one hundred years. Once you enter, you can't leave." "It slams you back, doesn't it?" she asked, and he nodded. He must have known that she would try to escape and bounce back. That's why he hadn't run right after her. He knew she wouldn't get out. She was trapped. "Why did you keep me from going if you knew I wouldn't get out?" she asked. "There are some not-so-understanding vampires that live here, sweetheart, dangerous ones who wouldn't care what happens to you. Remember that!" His eyes glared at her. She nodded and tensed, but he continued.

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Lauren Pilla "Every one hundred years, Hotel Sinn shows up, and our Master wants to celebrate with

some fresh blood. He sends someone out to invite a few humans to a party, and after a week inside the hotel walls, they're drained of all their blood in his special ritual." Her head hurt. It was all too much. He sends someone out. She gasped "You! You invited me," she said, shoving her finger into his chest. "You're giving me to your Master to be killed? How could you? Oh, let me guess. Because you're a vampire, human lives mean nothing to you. I can't believe I let you fuck me." She crossed her arms over her chest and scoffed. "Oh…Oh, and I bet you did something to my mind, didn't you? That's why I couldn't remember. Males, you’re all alike—assholes." She felt used and beyond upset, and her body trembled while she tried to make sense of her situation. She couldn't even believe she was having this conversation. "Anastasia, listen to me!" "No, I don't want to." She covered her ears and started singing, "Lalalalalala." Big hands covered her mouth, and she heard Victore whisper in her ear. "Someone is out there. Relax and don't make a sound." She saw the violence in his eyes if she disobeyed. Shaking her head up and down, Victore removed his hand from her mouth. "Do not move," he commanded. "Victore, you out there, my man?" a male voice shouted. "There's talk you’re hiding a human. You know what happens when you hide a human." Victore stepped out to reveal himself to the intruder. "Refresh my memory, Ian." Anastasia heard them talking. The other male, Ian, laughed. "Ah, Victore, the Master will have you killed for your disloyalty. You know how he likes to celebrate with something fresh." No, they can't kill Victore. Sure, he was an asshole, but he hadn't really hurt me. He could have if he wanted to. "Well then, my friend, I guess it's a good thing that I'm not hiding anyone. So you should just go back inside."

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"Bullshit, Victore. I can smell her fear, but that's not all I smell. You're not allowed to fuck the humans." Oh god, he can smell me, he knows I had sex with him, I need a shower. Why did I run? "Ian, leave." "You know I can't do that. I need to bring you and the freshy to the Master." "Ian, I will give you one last chance. Leave." "Make me," he taunted. "You don't want to do this, Ian." "Oh, but I do. I wanted to do this for a long time, number two in command. You think Fredrick won't do anything to you and that you can do whatever you want. Well, guess again." Anastasia peeked around the tree and saw two males. Both had removed their shirts. The other man's, Ian's, fangs grew longer. She couldn't see Victore; his back faced her. His very nicely-sculpted back. They sounded like big cats at first, hissing at each other. Then Victore lunged for Ian and punched him in the jaw. She heard the sound of bones breaking from her hiding spot. Ian wobbled but didn't go down and punched Victore in the chest. Victore did go down and kicked Ian's feet out from under him, and then he fell. Victore rolled, straddled Ian, and continually punched him until he was thrown off. Both men picked themselves up and held their fists up again in battle mode. "We can do this all day," Ian said. Anastasia wondered how one would kill a vampire. Clearly punching wouldn't do it. She thought if maybe a stake to the heart would do it. She watched way too much Buffy. Maybe Victore was her Angel. What am I thinking? A couple of kicks from Ian to her Victore had her stomach doing flip-flops and her nails digging into the tree for stability. Victore rolled and stood up, kicking Ian where Anastasia had kicked him earlier, in the balls. That's my move.

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Lauren Pilla Ian fell to his knees, and Victore pulled out a stake and shoved it into his chest. "Well, that answers that question, but where had he hid that thing?" Ian didn't turn to ash though, not at first. She watched as he rapidly aged until a skeleton

remained, and then he turned to dust. "Whoa, now that was weird," she said. Anastasia ran toward Victore without a thought that someone else could jump out and attack them. Victore had already fallen to his knees, obviously exhausted, and she knocked him over, raining kisses all along his face. He chuckled as she kissed him, wrapping his arms around her waist. "What is so funny? He could have killed you, Victore." "You either love me or hate me, darling, and I love it. You're a walking contradiction, brave and naive. I don't understand you at all, but you make me burn with desire." His arms held her tight, and his hands slid down her back and rested on her ass. His mouth met hers, and she greedily opened for him. She wanted to feel his tongue playing with hers again. His soft lips crushed hers. His fangs grazed her tongue, and her body temperature rose with anticipation. Would he bite her? She lost herself in the moment, fantasizing about his sharp fangs piercing her flesh as heat pulled between her thighs. She felt him grow hard beneath her, but she stiffened, pulling herself back into reality. "Wait!" she yelped. "What's wrong, love?" he asked. "I need a shower first." "What?" he asked, baffled. "That guy said he could smell me. I want to shower first." "Cold, my love. That is cold," Victore said, shaking his head. "But I'm sexy, so you forgive me," she said, smiling. He playfully smacked her ass and lifted her up, steadying her on her feet. "Oh, you are so strong," she mocked, caressing his hard bicep muscle. Victore rolled his eyes at her, and she giggled. "Anastasia, will you come back to my room now?"

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"Yeah, I suppose, since you did sort of save me a few minutes ago." Anastasia had no idea how to feel at the moment, her life turned into a wild roller coaster ride with no way to get off. Victore took her hand in his—just in case she ran away again, she assumed—but she felt a sense of possession and protection mixed with that fear. They walked back together to the hotel, her head turning all over the place to admire her surroundings. Beautiful fall foliage and blooming flowers flourished in the backdrop. She even thought she'd seen some farm animals to the east. "Victore, you still planning on turning me over to your Master?" she asked solemnly. "No, my darling, I believe I'm smitten with you." He grinned, showing his fangs again. That was going to take some getting used to. "Smitten? No one says smitten anymore," she said, laughing. "So what happens now? Won't you get in trouble with the Master?" "I don't know, sweetness," he said, pulling her closer to him. "We'll figure something out, darling." "Victore, I still have so many questions," she said, starting to rattle them off, but he quickly cut her off. "Get your shower first, firecracker. And then I will answer anything and everything you want," he said, laughing. After they got back to the hotel and snuck in, Anastasia headed right for the bathroom to shower. Stripping her clothes off as she entered the bedroom suite, she glanced over her shoulder, saw the drool coming out of Victore's mouth, and winked. She remembered where he stored the towels and grabbed one before she entered his bathroom for some much needed alone time. Her mind, a whirlwind of emotions, worked overtime to sort out the good from the bad. "Will you have something for me to wear?" she asked through the door. "Yeah," he shouted. The sound of hot water was music to her ears. It felt wondrous on her beat-up body; the pulsating water massaged her sore muscles as the sweat, grime, and sex washed off her flesh. His soap rested in the corner. It smelled fresh and clean, and she breathed it in, breathed him in,

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while she lathered up. Anastasia tried to rationalize that the man out there was a vampire, dangerous, and a killer. She'd just witnessed just how lethal he could be. She thought she handled everything well, or it hadn't really hit her yet. Maybe it was shock, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She shook the absurd thought away. Stubborn and strong, she could handle anything dished out to her, and she'd find a way to get through this too. After her much-needed shower, she wrapped her body up in an oversized terrycloth towel and only towel-dried her fiery red hair. She rooted through his bathroom drawers and found a comb. Finding no other toothbrush around, she resorted to using her finger. It was better than nothing. Emerging from the bathroom, Victore greeted her with a pair of jeans and a V-neck shirt. "Victore, are these your other lover's clothes?" she teased. "What? No, they're a friend's," he said. "A vampire friend?" she asked. "Yes, darling, and don't worry, she wont tell anyone you're here." She thanked him and grabbed the clothes, heading back to bathroom for privacy. Anastasia was grateful for the clothes. "A bra!" she shouted, rejoicing in the thought of holding her puppies still instead of bouncing all over the place. She wanted to kiss Victore's friend. "Panties? Oh, they still have the tags on them. Eighteen dollars? Who pays eighteen dollars for panties?" Grateful nonetheless, she finished dressing and assessed her new look; the bra was a bit snug—okay, a lot snug—the jeans fit, and the pale pink V-necked shirt was definitely snug. "Guess it will do," she said, and she walked back out to his sitting room. Victore looked her over and licked his lips; apparently he liked the snug look. He handed her a cup of coffee and offered her a seat on his beige sofa. Finally, he'd reveal the answers she so desperately wanted. "Hope you like cream and sugar," he said.

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"Yes, that's fine, thank you," she replied, sitting down and curling her feet up. She watched him sit as well, stirring his own coffee. Vampire or not, he was hot and delicious, and her heart rate sped up with excitement. "So ask me your questions, darling," he said as he leaned in a relaxing pose on the couch. He stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. Anastasia remained silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. She had so many questions, and she wanted them all answered. "Okay, where are the other humans? How many are there?" she asked. "They are held in the basement in a sort of dungeon. Food is brought to them, and they are allowed facilities. There’s four being held there," he replied bluntly. Anastasia sighed. "Can we help them?" "I don't think so." "Why not?" she asked. "Anastasia, where would they go? Everyone is trapped in the Hotel. You can't leave." A thought had occurred to her. "Well, how did you get out?" she snipped. "I had the gold medallion. There are only two, and both are held by the Master, Fredrick. He keeps them safely guarded." She thought about her limo driver. He had a gold chain around his neck. "The limo guy, is he a vampire too?" she questioned. "Henry, and yes, he’s a vampire and the Master's most loyal servant. Everyone here is a vampire, Anastasia. This is our society." "How did he get old though? No one else looks like him." Victore sighed. "That, my dear, is quite a long story. He left the hotel for far too long, and when he returned, his age remained." "Oh, how long can you stay out?" "An hour tops. Otherwise you would stay old, and if you stay even longer, death. You see, Anastasia, we’re all born vampires. I don't even know if we can make someone into a vampire. We've always been here but invisible for a hundred years until we can emerge from the shadows.

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The hotel is a being itself and changes as the times change, except for the wood. The wood never changes." "So those wood carvings in the beams…" she interrupted. "Yes, they're hundreds of years old," Victore said, nodding. "How old are you?" she asked, biting her lip, fearing the answer, for that would complete all the ingredients for her nervous breakdown. "I don't know, three…four hundred years old, I lost count. We stop aging altogether when we reach thirty years of age and remain forever youthful as long as we stay in the protection of Hotel Sinn. If we leave the hotel for the outside world, even if it's an hour, we age about ten years, and that one hour is a whole day in the hotel." "Huh?" she asked, confused. "In the outside world, Anastasia, only an hour has passed." Her mind turned to mush, and her brain began to shut down. A defense mechanism for absurdity. Victore was three or four hundred years old? No more questions. She didn't want any more answers right now. "Relax, sweetness, you have to breathe," the male voice said. Her heart pounded, her forehead felt damp with sweat, and her breathing grew rapid. A heart attack, she thought. The coffee mug had fallen, but she barely heard it hit the floor. Her eyes became blurry. She couldn't see, couldn't hear. Panic and then darkness.

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Chapter Four Victore used his mind control on her again. He wanted her to relax but gave her another panic attack instead. He’d just given her a shit-load of information that she probably still didn't understand. He realized trying to explain everything had put her over the edge. Comprehension of his world had taken its toll on her. Christ, what was he going to do now? He'd already betrayed his friend and Master, even killed. Ian eagerly set out to kill him; he had to defend himself. But how did Fredrick find out he had Anastasia? Who could've told him he had her? Realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. "Henry, that bastard." He must've seen her sleeping in his bed before they went to see Fredrick. He paced back and forth, glancing to make sure Anastasia stayed asleep. He was likely considered a fugitive, and he had no doubt someone else would be sent to kill him for hiding the human. It's only a matter of time, he thought. He pondered if someone could make a vampire. What if he made Anastasia into a vampire? At least she'd have a fighting chance with strength. Victore felt like he was losing his mind but decided to keep that on the back burner for a while. It just might work. A knock disrupted his train of thought. He opened his door without thinking. Can't keep doing that now. Someone could kill me. "Marianne, what are you doing here?" He pulled her in quickly, and the tray of goodies she'd brought rattled. "I brought you and your human some food." She gestured to the tray in her hands before putting it down on his kitchenette table. "Her name is Anastasia," he growled. "Touchy. Fine, I'll just take all this back and leave," she said, irritated.

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Lauren Pilla "I'm sorry, Marianne; I just don't know what to do. I can't think straight anymore, and

Anastasia has nothing but questions." He paused for a breath and continued to unload his thoughts. "They sent Ian to kill us. Obviously, they'll find out he didn't win and come for us again. I'm putting everyone in danger, even you. You can't tell anyone you came by here, Marianne." "Oh, Victore, this is serious, but you can't hide forever. You need to go to Fredrick for forgiveness. You've been his friend for years. He must show some kind of mercy on you," she said. “I kept a human, God dammit! One of his precious ritual humans. Oh God, what was I thinking?" He looked over at the beautiful Anastasia passed out on the couch and knew exactly why he did it. "Marianne, she’s innocent. She doesn't deserve this. I really screwed up. I was selfish to invite her, but now I just want to save her." "You really like her, don't you?" He just nodded, afraid to tell her his true feelings. Marianne sighed. "What do you want me to do?" "Do you have any more clothes that you could give her?" She gave him a frustrated look. "I suppose, but she only gets one more pair of underwear. They cost me a lot of money." He smiled at her. "I will buy you hundreds, honey. I will have to order her her own wardrobe." "Don't forget the overnight delivery!" "Overnight—more like one week in here. I’ll call the store and have them deliver it to me. I’ll even pay them extra. Do you think you can get me the gold medallion? They can drop off the clothes at the barrier. I’ll meet them there," he said. "Leave it to me, sugar. Just make the call. You know Fredrick would do anything for me." “Yes. I’ve noticed. Anything you want to tell me?” “I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talking about. We’re just friends. The same as you and I. Nothing more.”

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He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other.” Marianne quickly kissed his cheek and left the room, leaving the tray of sandwiches on the table. Victore saw the truth in her eyes. He only hoped she hid it well from Jeffery. He began to make his calls, and after, he hopped in the shower to think. He desperately needed to wash off the dirt from his altercation with Ian. His mind raced with thoughts of where they could hide, at least for a little while, until he came up with a plan. The hotel attic. No one went up there. He could hide her up there for now at least. And then what after they kill me? No one will be able to protect her. Victore began to talk out loud; fear of going crazy was the furthest thing from his mind. "We're trapped in the hotel. I can't leave. I will age and die. Anastasia won't die though. If I stay here, I die anyway. At least I can be with her in my final hours. That's it then. I will get the medallions, and we will escape." After drying off, he dressed and saw Anastasia helping herself to the tray of sandwiches on the table. "Sorry, I got hungry," she said as she took another bite. Victore chuckled. "It's okay, sweetheart. You've had a lot to deal with, and I like a female who can eat." "You put me to sleep, didn't you?" He just nodded. "I don't like it. Please don't do it again." Anger laced every word. Should he tell her his plan now? Should he wait? Should he try to hide with her for at least one night? The attic didn't sound so bad now. "I want to take you on a tour of the hotel when you're done." "Really? I'd love too! But do you think that’s a good idea? Your friends aren’t exactly rolling out the welcome wagon.” “I’ll be there to protect you. Only certain vampires want to harm us. Most just keep to themselves. We’ll be fine.” Her sandwich disappeared almost instantly, and her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk hiding his nuts.

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Lauren Pilla "Darling, you didn't have to inhale your food," he said, chuckling. She finished chewing and

got up. "I trust you. Let's go," she said. He took her hand. "Stay close to me," he said as they left his suite and entered the hallway. Victore showed her all his favorite spots and favorite architecture, stopping every once in a while to answer her questions. Victore held her hand tightly in his as they ventured out into his world. **** Anastasia became more relaxed and genuinely liked Victore, despite his fangs and wanting to offer her up on a platter to his Master. She remembered the hours earlier running down these same halls trying to escape and not noticing a thing. Now she could appreciate all the intricate details on the ceiling along with the paintings that hung on the wall. She passed by windows with beautifully crafted stained glass and expertly carved wood. And to think this was just the hallway. Anastasia noticed Victore looking over his shoulder; he seemed on high alert, like a lion ready to pounce any minute on his prey. "Victore, are you sure it’s okay that we’re out here? Will someone come after us again?" she questioned, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He didn't even hesitate. "Yes." "Then why are we leaving your room? We should stay there where it's safe." "I will not be a prisoner in my own room, Anastasia." She didn't have a response, but she gently squeezed his hand to let him know she would stay by his side. After all, she’d already said she trusted him. He smiled back at her. Victore lead her through the ballroom they'd danced in the night before. She saw people busily cleaning and putting things away and tensed. Her hands began to tremble. Would they attack her? "Victore, are these all vampires?" she said in a shaky voice. He held her hand, stroking it with his thumb. "Love, these are some of my friends. They won't hurt you."

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Her body relaxed except for her hand. It squeezed the life out of his as a tall, slender brunette came walking toward them. Anastasia scrutinized the beautiful woman the closer she got. Her eyes narrowed on the thin female as she smiled at Victore. Who did she think she was, looking at Victore that way? Fury bubbled up inside her body. Jealousy reared its ugly head and slammed straight into her. The female vampire placed a light kiss on his cheek and turned toward her. "You must be Anastasia. I'm Marianne," she said, extending her hand. Anastasia began grinding her teeth as she gracefully shook Marianne's hand. She had mental notes rattling off in her brain, one in particular. Marianne needed to stay away from her male. Her male? When the hell did that happen? "I'm sorry the shirt is a little snug. As you can see, my breasts are much smaller than yours." What did she mean by that? Anastasia felt self-conscious now, trying her hardest to magically shrink her boobs instantly. After that failed, she smiled at the gorgeous female and thanked her for the clothes through gritted teeth. "So you two are friends?" Anastasia asked. Of course they are—she’s thin, pale, and, well… perfect. "Yes," Marianne said. "I know Victore very intimately." She winked at Victore, giving him a playful nudge. Anastasia saw red. "Really, intimately, is that so?" She turned to look at Victore, composing herself before she did anything rash, but deep inside she wanted to ring Marianne’s scrawny neck. "Oh, shit!" Victore mumbled. "Marianne, can you please elaborate the word 'intimately' for me?" Anastasia asked while staring at Victore. She almost smiled, watching him squirm. "Victore, you didn't tell her?" Marianne pouted like a three year old. "Um, it hasn't come up," he said. "You gave me your old girlfriend's clothes?" "Love, is that jealousy I hear in your voice?" he teased.

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Lauren Pilla "Victore! Answer me." Anastasia wanted none of that. Victore was her man, not Marianne's. He sighed. "Yes, a very long time ago. Marianne is now married, but yes, we're still close

friends. You have nothing to worry about, my darling." He hooked his arm around her waist and brought his lips down to hers for a scorching kiss that made her toes curl. His tongue dominated hers, and he possessed her heart and soul while they passionately lip-locked. The world faded away while his other arm caressed its way up her body and cradled her chin and cheek. With his hard body pressed up against hers, an immediate ache formed between her thighs. She could feel Victore's cock hardening against her belly, but he pulled away from her lips and whispered into her ear. His breath sent chills down her spine. "See what you do to me," he said, his voice barely audible. Anastasia had no idea how to respond. She wished they were alone and he could show her what else his tongue could do, and his cock—well, she already knew what that could do. Nevertheless, she composed herself. Another time, she thought. She thanked Marianne, whose mouth gaped open like a codfish, for the clothes again and moved along with Victore. He showed her the paintings on the wall that had her mesmerized yesterday, but she had a hard time concentrating after that heated kiss. "Do these paintings change as well?" "No, these are carved from wood and painted." He looked down at his feet as he spoke again. "These are the ritual paintings. This is what happens." "Oh," she said. Talk about a mood killer. "Victore, are you sure we can trust all these people out here?" Anastasia asked. "No, and we should probably be going," he said. "Oh, look, there’s Henry, the limo driver." She pointed over by the door as he entered. Victore grabbed her arm and dragged her to the nearest exit. "We need to go now. Move, my darling." She hurried as fast as her feet could go. At times it felt as if he floated, he moved so fast. They sprinted down the hall toward the stairs. "Why are we running from Henry?" she asked in

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between breaths. Victore practically yanked her up a flight of stairs. "Victore!" she shouted, but he continued to climb the stairs with deadly purpose. He grasped her arm so tightly she thought he'd rip it off. "Tell me what is going on!" she pleaded, and she yanked her arm away from him as hard as she could when he stopped at their destination. It looked like an attic. Dust covered every inch, and cobwebs resided in every corner. She could only see boxes and wooden floors and beams. Exhausted from climbing so many steps, she bent over with her hands on her knees till she fully caught her breath. Victore hadn't tried to recapture her but checked the locks on the door they'd just barreled through. Finally breathing normally again, she continued to explore. The floorboards and walls were worn and bowed. She examined the ceiling closely and saw tree branches nailed to the upper wall. Amazing, she thought. The attic stored many boxes marked "linens." In fact all the boxes said “linens.” “Where are we?” she asked. Victore kneeled down beside her after checking the doors and the one small octagon-shaped window. "We will be safe up here for the night." "Safe? Safe from whom? That old man Henry? He looks so harmless." "Anastasia, Henry is the snitch. He told Fredrick you were with me. He is a spy, and he's dangerous. Never underestimate a vampire. We're cunning and vicious. Never forget that!" Anastasia stared at him with wide eyes and felt frightened but quickly realized he tried to scare her, tried to make her leave him. Well it wouldn't work; she liked him and would stick by him. "But he would have found out I was with you eventually, right?" she asked. "I don't know. I just need to think." Anastasia watched as he began to pace back and forth. She wondered if he always paced when he thought. Her eyes roamed over his muscular form, and her mouth watered. He had a very predatory look as he walked to the end of the room and back. He stalked back and forth like a caged beast full of fury and rage ready to attack anyone who came near him. His arms swung

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with each stride, and every turn he brushed the hair out of his eyes only to have it fall back into his line of vision. She saw his muscles under his clothes. They twitched in his chest, and then as he paced away, she saw them twitch in his ass. His sexy ass—tight, firm, and bitable. She could watch those rippling muscles for hours. Her mind drifted back to reality. He was a vampire, and other vampires wanted to kill them. She was a sacrifice: an unwilling sacrifice. Fresh blood, she'd kept hearing. "Victore, this is absurd. Sit down, and we'll figure this out together." He looked down at her, reached out his hand, and caressed her cheek. Suddenly, her vision clouded and her heart raced. Another panic attack. She realized he played in her mind. "Victore! Don't you dare!" she yelled. He growled, literally growled, throwing his arms up like a three-year-old having a temper tantrum. He collapsed onto the floor on his knees, his hands holding his head. "This is all my fault. Anastasia, I promise I'm going to make this right. No one will harm you. I'm going to steal the medallions, and we're going to escape. I'm going to get you out of here." "But you said anything longer then a couple hours in the real world kill us." “Don’t worry about me, love. You’re not a vampire. You will be able to live your life as long as you wear the medallion." Tears welled in her eyes. "Victore, I don't want anything to happen to you. We will find another way." "There is no other way." **** Victore couldn't believe she wept for him, sitting on the floor with tear stains on her face because of him. His heart ached, overwhelmed by his emotions. Everything fell apart because of him. Cruel fate laughed, taunting him. She showed him beauty and happiness, and now fate

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wanted to take it away. He was a selfish bastard, even more selfish because he didn't want to leave her. He wanted to find another way. He tilted her chin up. The tear stains on her soft pale cheeks crippled him. He felt like such a bastard. With the back of his finger, he wiped away a tear and brushed her hair back behind her ear. His right hand lingered and slowly slid to the back of her neck. Her green eyes sparkled so bright, so beautiful, he thought them angelic jewels, handpicked only for her. Victore licked his lips and leaned in, capturing her mouth with his. He moaned when he tasted her lips, so soft and full. His body weight pressed against her, and she quickly lay on her back. His tongue thrust into her mouth with determination and skill. If it was their last night together, he would make love to her so good that she'd never forget him. His hands glided underneath her shirt and swiftly removed it. Her bra came off next, and he reveled in her beauty. She cupped her bare breasts for him like an offering. Her skin felt so silky smooth he wanted to kiss and caress every inch of her flesh. He leaned down and captured her mouth again, nibbling, sucking, and teasing her lips and tongue with his. Just the sight of her swollen, red lips made him harder than he'd ever been in his life. His mouth moved south, tasting her skin along the way. He inhaled, taking in her berry scent, and she moaned when he teased the curve of her neck with his fangs. Victore growled. Mine! He would do whatever it took to keep her with him. His hand palmed her breast and gently squeezed it. "I love your breasts, darling. They fit perfectly in my hands." His fingers rolled her nipple, and she arched her back. His hot mouth found its way to her other nub and sucked it until she cried out. She ran her hands through his hair, pulling him closer to her breasts. If she smothered him with her cleavage, he'd die a happy vampire. Her touch intoxicated him like a drug, and he needed more. Victore licked his way down to the top of Anastasia's jeans. His hands momentarily left her breast to unbutton her pants. His breath blew hard, his voice raspy, his hands unsteady. Victore paused to look in her eyes, and he saw pure desire. He knew

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she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. His cock, hard and strained, needed out of his pants and into her pussy where it belonged. "Anastasia," he said in husky voice. "I need you." She shimmied out of her jeans and panties, lifting her hips up and rubbing against his cock. Victore growled, and with one hand he unbuttoned his own pants, kicked off his shoes, and removed his slacks. His shaft, now free, throbbed at the sexy sight of her before him. Victore kissed his way down her belly and to the soft curls between her thighs. He licked her pussy with one long flick of his tongue. "Victore," she said as she writhed before him, encouraging him. His tongue lapped up her juices as he teased her clit with his finger. Victore sucked and nibbled her pussy, swirling his talented tongue in between her folds. He could do it all night, he thought, and would do it all night. His other hand stroked his cock to ease some strain, but he somehow made it worse. "Love, I need to be inside you." Anastasia whimpered her response. "Please." He moved so quickly that he knew she only saw a blur. His cock plunged into her pussy, so tight, so wet, so his, that he stilled, basking in the glory of the pure sexual pleasure they both enjoyed. He slowly began to thrust his shaft in and out, knowing he would last mere seconds. Victore filled her, stretched her, and he was in heaven. Her nails ran over his back, and he pumped faster, loving the feel of his cock sheathed inside her pussy. Her legs wrapped around his waist, allowing him to go deeper, and he took full advantage. "Oh God, sweetheart." he said, his voice hoarse. She gave him a wicked grin and tightened her legs around him, forcing his cock deeper. Victore, lost in pleasure, hadn't noticed he'd flipped onto his back, now with Anastasia bouncing on top of him.

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Her nails raked his chest, and she kept in time with his hips. Thrust after thrust, his rough hands grasped her hips as she bucked on top. He lifted his pelvis and slammed his shaft deep inside as she impaled herself on him. "Come for me, darling," he said. She writhed faster, her nails sinking into his skin. He felt her squeezing his dick, and he came with her as she cried out his name. He came hard, and she collapsed on his chest. Both panted to catch their breath. Victore's fingers lightly rubbed her back, her damp skin, and he loved it. His fiery redhead had ridden him hard. He smoothed her hair. She caught her breath, and as she did, he whispered, "Anastasia, I love you." **** Anastasia drifted out of sleep, cuddled next to Victore. He told her he loved her. She couldn't believe it. He actually loved her. Her feelings for him remained undecided. She really liked him a lot, but did she love him? She cared about him, didn't want him to die, but love? She rolled over quietly onto her side, propped her head up on her elbows, and watched him sleep. Her fingers lightly combed through his hair, brushing it back behind his ears. His hair, a mess of soft and thick strands, compelled her to touch it, and framed his features carved from beautiful stone. Such a gorgeous man. He looked at peace as he snored, much better than the tormented look he had last night. There just has to be another way. Maybe if Fredrick told the other vampires to leave us alone, we wouldn't be bothered. The land occupied by Hotel Sinn spread far and wide, she wondered if they could build on it. In the woods they could have their own cottage and live happily ever after. She laughed at herself—living in the woods with a vampire. Yep, couples always have these problems. Victore stirred and blinked his eyes open; he smiled and reached up to kiss her. "Good morning, love," he said with a sexy, sleepy voice. She wondered if he'd bring up "I love you" again.

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Lauren Pilla "Victore, I've been thinking. Can't you ask Fredrick to tell everyone to leave us alone?" she

asked. He sighed. "Anastasia, I thought we went through this last night. I defied him. Yes, we are… were good friends, but my treason is unforgivable. The only way now would be to kill the Master and take control, and that won't happen." Anastasia immediately shot up and looked into his eyes. "Why can't you kill him?" "Well because…because he is my friend." "Your friend tried to have you killed," she said, poking him in the chest. Victore opened his mouth to say something but then closed it. Anastasia felt hopeful. Kill the Master and Victore can become the new Master. The people would have to listen to him, and then they could finally live together in peace. Victore spoke, "Even if I did kill Fredrick, there will always be a few people who will disagree and take matters into their own hands." "Like what you did," she said, frowning. "Yes, like I did." He cupped her face and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. "And I would do it again and again to be with you."

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Chapter Five Anastasia tangled her arm around Victore's as they walked back to his room. They took care at every turn, adrenaline coursing through her body and butterflies in her belly. Anastasia prayed they didn't run into any angry vamps. She still tried to come to terms with what Henry did, barely understanding that her new world involved vampires. Henry looked too old to be wrapped up in all the drama. She wanted to get back to Victore's room and clear her mind, think about what to do next. They arrived at his room greeted by Marianne. Anastasia forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and gripped Victore's arm possessively. Jealousy stirred, but why? She married Jeffery, and that meant off limits to Victore. Marianne held a couple of bags in her hands. "Here, these are for you," she said. "Me? What is it?" Anastasia asked as she took the bags from Marianne. "Clothes. Listen, I can't stay, just dropping them off. Henry has been chatting with Jeffery, and the word is, Victore, you're going down. Master isn't too happy you killed Ian. In fact he’s furious and wants you brought in because you’re a danger to everyone." "Marianne, I didn't have a choice. He was going to kill me," he said with a frown. "I know," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. Anastasia's eyes narrowed on Marianne in warning. Marianne smirked in response. "Marianne, be careful around Henry. I don't trust him." "Will do." She kissed Victore on the cheek and winked at Anastasia. She grumbled some unintelligible words as Marianne left. Anastasia peeked into the bag of clothes. All had tags on them. Brand new bras, panties, pants, and shirts. She arched her eyebrow at Victore and assumed he had a hand in her new clothes.

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Lauren Pilla "Did you tell her to give me clothes?" she asked. Victore ignored her for a moment and

opened the door to his suite. The knob on the door hung loose like someone had picked it open. Dark scuff marks covered the bottom of the door as well. Someone had started to kick it down. Anastasia walked in, following closely behind, and ran right into his shoulder. "Vic—Oh no! What happened?" She panned the room. Someone had savagely destroyed everything, priceless possessions gone forever. The sofa was ripped to pieces, TV smashed, dishes broken. Even the walls looked as if someone had punched them. "Who would do this?" she asked, looking around the rest of the room. "I know who wanted it done, but as for who did it, I don't know. He wants to make an example out of me, sweetheart. I killed Ian,” he said, continuing to pick up broken pieces of rubble. “Henry's body is too old for this, even with vampire strength. And Jeffery, he is Marianne's husband. He wouldn't do this." "Well, someone did. Do you think Fredrick did it himself?" Anastasia asked. Victore picked up the chairs scattered around his dinette table and sighed. The glass tabletop had shattered into a million pieces. He scooped Anastasia up and planted her on the chair. "Don't move, there is too much glass," he commanded. "I'm not five, Victore; I can actually help clean up." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I need to think, and I don't want to worry about you." He began his infamous pacing, back and forth, pausing to scold something invisible. She watched him from her chair, worried for him. Panicked and nervous, she sat still on the chair, thinking of how to help him, but nothing came to mind. She had no idea how to soothe him. He was so angry, and she didn't want to rattle the beast even more, so she stayed put and silently prayed for a miracle. Victore definitely distracted her from her prayers as she watched his muscular form move back and forth like a hungry predator. God, he is gorgeous. "Victore, we should go, hide somewhere they can't find us." He stopped pacing, turning his gaze toward her. Dark, piercing eyes stared back at her

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"Darling, we can't hide, and besides, I'm not leaving now, not after this! This is my place, dammit! I will take care of this like a man, like a vampire!" "Well, perhaps you can speak with Fredrick? Tell him it was self defense. You had no choice." "No. The time for speaking has passed. Besides, his mind is made up. Do you really think anything I say now will make a difference?" “He was your friend, Victore. Talk to him. But one thing is clear; I will not watch you die! Will I age if I stay here?" "I…I don't know. A human has never been here long enough," he said, frowning. "Can you make me into a vampire?" she asked without hesitation. "You would want to turn into a vampire?" He moved closer to her, his shoes crunching the broken glass, and took hold of her hands. What did I just say? Did I really just ask to be a vampire? I must be stressed. "You want to be a vampire? I've only heard stories of a human turning. Is it truly what you want?" The grip on her hands increased, and she thought he'd squish them into oblivion. Anastasia saw the fear in his eyes as her hands went numb. Was he afraid to turn her? Anastasia slowly left the chair, locking her eyes with Victore's. Waves of nausea mixed with her own fear pulsed through her body as what she'd just asked sunk in. She realized she'd do anything to stay with Victore, even if it meant becoming a vampire. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving him. She felt whole, complete with him, and most of all, happy with him. At least if she became a vampire, they would have a chance to be together, she thought. "I'll have to see what I can find out. I'll talk to Jeffery. Maybe he would know if you can turn a human into one of us." "Can I come with you?" "No, stay here. I will be back, and do not open this door unless it's me." He gave her a chaste kiss before he opened the door and left.

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Lauren Pilla Anastasia hopped off the chair and began to clean up the mess. Looking in his closets and

drawers, she found a small wooden broom and swept the broken glass into a pile. The room appeared unsalvageable, and she didn’t even know where to begin. She began to wonder if she’d make it out of this nightmare alive. Pulling the trashcan over, she brushed a pile of glass onto the dustpan and discarded it. Next, she flipped over the chairs and set them back around the table. Slowly, she brought some order back to the room, one piece at a time. She swept bits and pieces of a smashed chair into the far corner. Another chair with broken legs joined the ever growing pile. She'd ask Victore what to do with the big stuff. After she pushed the broken furniture aside, she began to wipe down the walls that had food or liquid spilled on them. It was the least she could do, and she needed the distraction. Anastasia started to worry about becoming a vampire. Her palms began to sweat, and she wiped them on her jeans, trying to calm herself down. Fangs and blood would await her new life. Could she really drink blood for the rest of her soon-to-be unnatural life? She'd never age, never get disease, and never die—well, unless some one staked her. As she fixed the mutilated cushions back on the couch, she heard a noise. Victore? He'd left a while ago. Who else could it be? The doorknob rattled and fell out of the door. Victore wouldn't rattle the door to his own room. Anastasia hid in a nearby cupboard with a sliver of glass as her weapon. Pulling the door closed as tight as she could, she had a tiny crack to see out of. Unknown footsteps became louder and louder. Her heart pounded, ready to explode out of her chest, it beat so fast. Fear bubbled inside. Dammit Victore, where are you? Would the intruder kill her? Her mind raced about the identity of the trespasser. She debated friend or foe. She deemed the intruder a foe, since he or she hadn’t left when they found the room empty. Whoever it was probably wanted to kill them both. She didn't have vampire strength, at least not yet, but she wouldn't go down without a fight. Bring it, asshole.

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The footsteps continued to get louder and louder. The killer stood inches away. A pleasurable scent reached her nose. At least her killer smelled good. She saw a leg step into the only view she had. The male voice spoke in a deep, calm, and manipulative tone. "Dear sweet Anastasia, just come out of the cupboard. I know where you are. Don't make me come get you; you won't like it." He knows I'm in here, oh shit. "Yes, I know you are in there. Holy shit, I didn't say that out loud. "You didn't have to. I can read minds and yours…well, you're just screaming out to me." Did he laugh at her? Shit, what do I do now? Think pink elephants, pink elephants. "Pink elephants," he said, sighing. Suddenly he ripped open the cabinet door and yanked her up by the hair. The piece of glass she held as her only defense fell from her hand. She grabbed hold of his forearms to try and break the hold, but he had Superman's strength, and the more she struggled, the more it hurt. "Stop moving, dammit!" he yelled. "I will kill you," he growled, and she stopped moving instantly. He moved her toward the chair and tied her down with some rope he had in his back pocket. She struggled against the binds and continued to think of silly circus items, anything to keep him from reading her mind. He chuckled. "How long can you keep thinking about clown cars and tight rope walkers?" "As long as it takes, asshole. Who are you? What do you want with me? Why can't you just leave us alone?" The muscled man looked like a wrestler. The white T-shirt hugged his broad shoulders. She could only imagine the abdominal muscles underneath. She remembered feeling his arms when he grabbed her hair, firm and extremely well defined. With brown hair and brown eyes, he emanated hotness in a serial-killer sort of way. He had the start of a beard on his face, hadn't shaved in days, it seemed. His skin…tan? But how? He was a vampire, like Victore. Stop thinking, Anastasia!

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Lauren Pilla He laughed again. Just great, she thought. "My name’s Jeffery. Yes, Marianne's husband." He read her mind again. "I need to know

where Victore is." "Why, so you can hurt or help him?" she spat out. He sighed, running his hand over his chin. "Fuck it. I’m going to kill him and then you." "But why? Why can't you just leave us alone? Does your wife know what you’re up to?" she said snidely. He growled at the mention of his wife. "My slut of a wife has no idea, but oh, I know all about what she is up to." "Does she know you can read minds?" "No one does." She felt almost privileged to share his secret. "So you're doing this because your wife is a slut?" she said, confused. "Partly. Henry has told me things, things about Victore and Fredrick. Their friendship for one. Henry really has it out for the old Master. He’s the reason he’s aged. Did you know that? Naturally we became allies in conspiring against Fredrick. Henry feels his immortality was taken away. And Marianne, the slut, was apparently never really mine. I also know she still thinks about Victore, damn whore." Her heart clenched, and her anger rose. MINE! Jeffery grabbed his head in hands and almost screamed in pain. "Jesus Christ, female, calm down. She doesn't think about him like that. She thinks of him as family, a brother, and all the things he has done for her. Her true passion is with the Master. I've seen all the fantasies that she has concocted with him. And I know he feels the same. The things he wants to do to my wife. My wife, you hear me? My wife!" "Well, have they acted on their fantasies? Maybe you're not satisfying her enough in the bedroom." That earned her a slap across the face with the back of his hand. She tasted blood in her mouth. She could feel he'd split her lip open. She watched as Jeffery sat back down and composed himself. Empty thoughts. Empty thoughts.

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"They haven't acted upon it, but they will, I know it. And I happen to know, she always came!" he bellowed. She licked her lip, trying to stop the bleeding. "So what does any of this have to do with me and Victore?" she demanded. "Well, you just happened to be a nice excuse to kill Victore. I knew how he felt about you. Knew he would do anything to keep you. I, however, had convinced the Master of how wrong it would be, with Henry's help of course. He will now be my most trusted advisor when the Master is dead. Ian always hated Victore, so he was very easy to convince. I knew Victore would easily kill him with his speed, skill, and strength. Ian was a cocky son of a bitch, and now he is dead. Next in my plan is to get Victore to kill the Master. Victore would plead his case to be with you; it’s the only way you two could be together. However, with all these newfound hostilities that my buddy Vic now has, Fredrick would strike at him first, assuming he'd go all loose-cannon on him after what happen with Ian. Then, after killing his best friend and dealing with the devastating loss of a so-called brother, he would be too distracted, and then I could easily kill him, and then I would take the throne. I would drain you dry and make Marianne suffer, and my life would be happily ever after." "WHAT! You’re insane! You’re a crazy psycho asshole, and Victore is going to kill you slowly," she said, narrowing her eyes. Jeffery found some tape and slapped it across her mouth. "You got spunk. I see why he loves you." She screamed, but no noise came out. She screamed inside her head, hoping it would cause him pain. Jeffery went down, clutching his head. She continued to scream, shouting Victore's name over and over in her head. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Victore’s massive body stood in the doorframe. Magnificent. Tall, deadly, and muscular. That was her male, and she loved him, madly and deeply loved him. She thought she could see the anger coming off him in waves, and then he quickly starting kicking the shit out of Jeffery. One kick to his abs, and he went flying through

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the air. She saw the rage in Victore. His once beautiful black eyes now glowed red. Red like blood—Jeffery's blood. Victore continued to pound his fists into Jeffery's once handsome face. Now his fangs would be needed to identify him. A woman's voice screamed from the doorway. Anastasia whirled her head around and saw Marianne. Her mouth still covered in the tape prevented her from explaining everything her psycho husband did. Marianne ran toward the males and attacked Victore. Her fingers turned into claws, and her fangs lengthened. Anastasia silently screamed, watching him get stabbed by ten blades when Marianne sank her claws into him. He growled and easily tossed her off him. She landed with a thud in the corner but quickly recovered and headed for Victore again. No! Anastasia saw some glass on the floor and rocked her chair till it fell over. Inching her way toward the only saving grace she had, she picked up the jagged piece and began to slice into the ropes that bound her hands, not caring that her palms became bloody. She worked the rope as fast as she could. She had to get Marianne away from Victore. Marianne flew to Victore with deadly purpose and stuck her claws into the base of his neck, paralyzing him until she pulled them out, and he crashed to the floor. Anastasia screamed, and the only one who could hear her was Jeffery, who barely moved. Marianne heaved up her husband and left the room, covered in blood. The room looked like a bloody massacre. Finally cut free from the ropes, she ran to Victore's side. "Victore, sweetheart, can you hear me? Victore! Please be okay. Victore, answer me. I love you, please don't die!" She cradled his head in her arms. Blood pulsed out of his neck. Anastasia removed her shirt and wrapped it around the multiple wounds. She hoped applying pressure helped instead of hurt. "Please, Victore. Please be okay. You can't leave me, not like this. We're supposed to be together forever." Tears ran down her face. She cried hysterically. She sat there sobbing until she had hiccupped with his head in her lap for what seemed like an eternity. She'd just found her love, and it tore her apart that he lay there dying right before her eyes. Blinking, she thought she

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started to imagine things. His hand twitched. Wiping some tears away, she saw it move again. "Victore!" she gasped. "Victore, baby, I'm here." "Blood." His voice, rough and strangled. "I know, baby, you're covered in it. Shh, don't talk, save your strength," she said, smoothing his hair. "Need." Victore's voice struggled again. "Oh. Oh," she said, realizing what he meant. Her hands just had drying blood smeared on them, and the cuts from the glass had stopped bleeding. He needed fresh blood, and quickly. She picked up another piece of glass, sliced her wrist open, and held the dripping appendage in front of him like a glorious feast. He could barely move his mouth, and she moved her wrist closer to let the blood drip down his throat. Anastasia continued stroking his hair, hoping to ease him in any way that she could. Blood continued to drain from her wrist, and when he gulped the precious liquid down, he groaned. More and more blood dropped into his mouth, and each drop improved his health. Minutes later, he began to suck on her wrist, taking what he needed. She didn't care if he drained her. She wanted him to survive, even if she started feeling dizzy. **** Victore sucked her wrist hastily, replaying the image he walked into. When he walked up to his door, having failed to find Jeffery, he heard a commotion, and he burst in. Rage took over his body when he saw his Anastasia tied up and Jeffery the one holding her captive. Of all the people, he would’ve never guessed Jeffery. He doubted Marianne knew, and that's probably why she'd attacked him. He took long pulls from Anastasia, even felt her pulse weakening as he did it, but he couldn't stop. His fangs, embedded in her flesh, began to finally soothe the ache in his gums. She tasted so good, so delicious. No wonder vampires considered humans a delicacy. He sucked, her blood tasting of sweet metallic berries, until he felt her body go limp, and he finally pulled away.

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Lauren Pilla "Oh my God! Merciful heaven, what have I done?" His strength came back full force, his wounds healed, but now his female lay on the bloody

floor barely breathing. Blood heals. Blood heals. He repeated it in his head. He couldn't panic, not now. Think, think, think. Save her. Could he turn her into a vampire? He cradled her in his hands, rocking her. "Oh God, Anastasia, darling, I'm so sorry." Turn her, save her. It was his only hope. With only seconds to spare, Victore bit down on his own wrist and held it up to Anastasia. Droplets flowed down her throat, and she coughed, spitting out the blood. "Drink it, my love." Victore whispered his prayers. "This has to work. I'm so sorry. Sorry for everything." He held his wrist up to her again, and this time, the blood stayed down. He felt her sucking down his essences, his life. After a few moments, he felt her pulse, strong but quickening. He could hear her heartbeat race, the sound deafening, like it would beat out of her chest. "Oh God, it can't be a panic attack!" Suddenly everything stopped. Her heart, her pulse, her breath. "Anastasia! No! My love, come back to me. Please!" he begged, shaking her, hoping to bring her back to life. "Anastasia, please," he sobbed. She lay there in a heap on the floor, the color drained from her body, her life gone. He killed her. The one person he cared for more then anything, dead by his fangs. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, and his heart felt ripped to shreds. "Love, please come back to me. I love you. Oh God, I'm so sorry." He hovered over her body, praying for life. Then, after what seemed like forever, Anastasia gasped for breath. Her eyes flew open; her once emerald eyes, now a shade darker, glowed with a gold tint. He saw her teeth turn to fangs and lengthen and her fingernails turn into claws. "It worked! Oh God, it worked! Love, it's me, Victore." Relieved, he hugged her tightly to his chest, gathering her up onto his lap, but noticed something wrong. Anastasia seemed distant.

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He felt her cold fingers sliding around his neck; her claws scratched his healed flesh. In a blur, her fangs pierced his neck, and she sucked. Sucked him hard. Her body heat rose, her fingers no longer cold on his neck. Her body felt warm and silky. His cock instantly hardened, wanting to feel just how hot she really was. She took deep pulls from his neck, and his body blazed with passion. He wanted nothing but to throw her down and plunge his dick into her pussy until she screamed. Her grip around his neck loosened, and she pulled away. The distant look in her eyes had vanished, replaced by a look of desire and lust. "I want you, Victore." she said, her voice low and dark, and her smile showed new fangs. Her tongue flicked her new, longer canines, and Victore about came in his pants. Lust fueled their bodies, her every move erotic, sexy, and currently making his cock harder than stone. With her still sitting in his lap, he leaned forward with his fangs extended and bit through the flimsy fabric that held her breasts captive. Victore noticed her smile turn devilish, seductive. Oh God, he wanted her badly. He licked her now bare nipple, flicking his tongue over the hard little nub, and she moaned. The sounds that escaped from her throat made his body shiver, and his fangs grazed her creamy breasts. For the first time, he wasn't afraid to hurt her. He could give her everything and anything she wanted. His fingers drifted down to remove her pants. Her hands slid underneath his shirt and pulled it over his head. Flesh against flesh. Both bodies hot and ready. His cock strained against his pants. His redheaded female tested out her strength and pushed him flat on his back, dominating. She slid down his body, her eyes still glowing. She bit the button off his pants with her fangs and growled, pulling the zipper down with her teeth. He thought he'd explode before she even touched him. Holy hell, his little vixen had turned sex goddess. She damn near ripped off the fabric, unaware of her strength. He lay naked before her, and he'd let her do anything to him. His cock throbbed, and his body tensed, waiting for her to make her move, and then, slowly and seductively, Anastasia moved her mouth down to his cock and licked up his shaft. Victore groaned, almost growling. He peered down his body and saw a bead

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of pre-cum emerge, and she licked his dick again, swiping up the bead. His body shivered, and not because of the lack of clothes. He'd never felt so turned on before. He writhed with his orgasm mere seconds away because of the woman about to wrap her lips around his cock. She looked at him with fire in her eyes and opened her mouth to take him in. Victore groaned as she sucked and teased him. Her new fangs grazed his velvety flesh, sending chills down his spine. He watched as his length disappeared into her mouth, each suck harder than the last. His balls tightened, and her fingers began to massage and tease his sack. Victore's fingers threaded through her red locks, forcing her to take more of him into her mouth. "Dear God, female," he cried out. The suction noises she made had him reeling in pleasure. His hand gripped her hair tighter as he continued to fuck her mouth. And fuck her mouth he did. His hips started to buck, and her tongue and mouth moved faster, working him into ecstasy. Her mouth was so hot and wet, the sensations beyond intense. He groaned, bucking his hips faster. Her lips felt so good around his cock, and he wouldn't last much longer. "Baby!" he shouted, coming in her mouth. He wanted to pull away, but she held him down with her new strength, her hands on both sides of his hips as she greedily drank him down. Victore's head collapsed on the floor as he tried to catch his breath. His red-head's tongue had a magic all its own. She crawled up the length of his body, slow and low like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. He caught her hands and easily rolled her to her back, where he eagerly returned the favor. Sliding between her thighs, he licked her pussy until she came, her orgasm fierce and powerful. Victore watched her eyes return to that beautiful emerald green that she had before she turned. He slid next to her, placing his arm around her as she snuggled up against his body. He could hear the rhythm of her heartbeat as it slowed. He looked over and smiled. His Anastasia had fallen asleep. ****

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Anastasia awoke in a panic. She had the craziest dream that she was a vampire and some psycho wanted to kill her. She sat up and began to stand, heading toward the bathroom to throw some water on her face. Rubbing her eyes and not paying attention, she tripped and fell. "Ouch," she said, rubbing her eyes again to see what she had tripped over. She gasped. "Good lord!" She saw the carnage of the room. Blood everywhere. Memories of the night before flooded her brain. "Oh God, Jeffery wanted to kill us. And then Marianne. Victore!" She peered over to him, and he still slept…naked? She glanced down at herself. "When did I lose my bra?" Her body ached in places she never knew she had. Her gums were sore, and her head felt like a bad hangover. Picking herself up off the floor, Anastasia made it to the bathroom. She splashed the coldest water she could handle on her face and felt better. Her tongue rubbed against her gums, but something didn't feel right. She leaned on her tippy toes toward the mirror and braced her hands on the marble sink countertop. She smiled at herself, looking closely at her gums. "Holy Fuck! I'm a vampire!" She hadn't realized how loud she shrieked, because Victore came running in. "Love, what's wrong?" "I'm a vampire!" she shouted, pointing to her teeth. Victore chuckled. "Yes, you are, darling." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. He kissed her shoulder, and she stared at herself, bewildered. "How did this happen?" "Last night, I thought I killed you. I prayed that giving you my blood would turn you to save you," he said with his head down. Victore handed her a T-shirt and lead her to the bedroom. Anastasia complied, hopped up on the bed, and sat Indian style, ready to tell him everything Jeffery had told her. She explained everything from the mind reading all the way to Jeffery wanting to declare himself Master. Her male couldn't believe it when he heard everything and couldn't believe how blindsided he was.

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Lauren Pilla "Jeffery! That bastard. I knew Fredrick was the one she loved. Well not at first, but I figured

it out. All those glances, all those trips to get the medallion, it was to see Fredrick. When we were younger, I knew it would’ve never worked between us. We were just young kids wanting to experiment, and who better then a friend you trusted. Right?" he said with a half smile as he ran his fingers through his hair. "So what do we do?" Anastasia asked, getting off the bed and looking for a new pair of jeans. "We will do nothing. I'll talk to Fredrick, and you stay here." "Bullshit! One, last time you left me, I got tied up. And two, I'm a vampire now. I can take care of myself." She flexed her arm muscles as if they would solve any problems she would come across. Victore sighed. "Fine, but let me do all the talking, all right?" She replied with a two-finger salute and slid her legs into a brand new pair of jeans that had managed not to get destroyed in the chaos. "So, about the clothes?" she asked. "They're yours. I bought them for you." "How? You don't work. Where does the money come from?" "The hotel," he said, smiling devilishly. "I told you it has a mind of its own." Anastasia didn't understand at all, but it would have to wait for another time. She just wanted to worry about staying alive.

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Chapter Six Victore and Anastasia made their way to Fredrick’s office. Once they arrived, Henry rudely interrupted them. “I need to speak with Fredrick!” Victore shouted. “No, he doesn’t want to see you. He is not to be disturbed,” he replied. “Which is it, Henry? He doesn’t want to see me, or he doesn’t want to be disturbed?” “Leave here, Victore, you’re not welcome!” he said, moving closer to Victore. Victore lunged for the old man, determined to enter the Master’s office. Anastasia shrieked when Henry sucker-punched him in the face. Suddenly the doors opened. “What the fuck is going on out here? Victore!” Fredrick reached down, yanking Victore by the back of his neck, and threw him into the office. “You, follow, now!” He pointed to Anastasia. Victore batted Anastasia’s hands away when she started to examine his eye. He had no desire to be nursed. “Human, sit!” Fredrick commanded. They didn’t call him the Master for nothing. The pair each sat in a midnight-black, high-back chair. The elegant seat composed of a mahogany frame proved rather comfortable with the velvet cushions. The mahogany matched the massive desk that occupied most of the room. Giant bookcases lined the walls, along with artwork that would rival the most prestigious gallery. Only the best for Fredrick. Victore watched the exchange of glances from Fredrick and Anastasia. He saw his eyes widen with realization. “She’s not human! My sacrifice, what have you done? You have gone too far. You’re killing, betraying, and now this!” he said at the newly-turned vampire. “Fredrick, listen to me.” Victore winced in pain when he moved; he hadn’t realized how hard Henry hit him. Walking toward his closet, Fredrick opened the door, exposing a small fridge, which he opened. He tossed Victore a cold ice pack for his face.

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Lauren Pilla "Here, asshole, now you want to tell me why you're here at my office and why she is no

longer human?" He leaned against his desk and stared at his friend. Victore placed the ice pack against his left eye; the cold immediately began to sooth his swollen orbit. "I've been set up, and so have you," Victore said as he continued to position the ice pack. "Interesting thought. By whom have we been set up by?" he replied. "Jeffery and Henry." Fredrick immediately stood. "You know Marianne came to see me, just before you arrived. She said I should kill you because you almost killed Jeffery.” He paused “Marianne also says you’re in love.” He sighed. “Victore, have you any proof of these accusations?" "Baby, it's okay tell him." Victore held Anastasia's hand and gave it a squeeze. He didn’t want her to be afraid. She nodded and told Fredrick the whole event that had transpired the night before. The psycho way Jeffery acted and told her that he wanted to kill Fredrick and make his wife suffer for wanting him. That he could read minds and wanted to fix it so Victore delivered the final blow to his old friend. When all was said and done, Jeffery confessed that he would kill Victore and drain Anastasia, all the while making his wife, Marianne, suffer by watching her precious Fredrick die, telling her over and over that it was her fault. Letting her suffer with guilt as Jeffery became the Master and Henry his very own trusted advisor. She'd told him some other tidbits that she'd apparently kept secret from even Victore. He felt dreadful, hearing all the details, plus some surprises. "Henry gave Jeffery everything. He gave him all the information. Had even given him details about your friendship. Henry hates you. He blames you for his aged body," she said in a whisper. "Christ." Victore saw the struggle on Fredrick’s face. “Is this another trick?” Victore looked at Anastasia. The love, the passion in her eyes comforted him, encouraged him.

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“No, my friend, it’s not.” Fredrick sat back down behind his desk and didn't speak for a good ten minutes. He stood and stared out his window. The turmoil on Fredrick’s face saddened Victore. “Fredrick, you knew Marianne loved you, didn’t you?” He nodded. “Do you love her in return?” He nodded again. “Then by God, Fredrick, why did you let her marry Jeffery?” Fredrick sighed. “I don’t know. She seemed to believe Jeffery was the sensible choice. I…I never pushed her about it. I was a fool not to declare my feelings for her.” He paused. “But enough of this shit! Did I ever tell you why we have these sacrifices? We need the human blood to survive. The nutrients are what sustain us. The hotel keeps us young, but without the blood, we would eventually die. I hate that we need it. When we drain the blood from the humans, it's mixed in with our own blood supply that we keep in stock. We don't need much. That’s why I usually pick five people every one hundred years." Anastasia gasped, and Victore felt disgusted. He hated the idea of a sacrifice, but he hadn’t realized what secrets the Master held. Fredrick smirked and continued to fidget with his blinds. "Only the Masters know that kind of information. It's passed down from Master to Master in private. Again, I don't want to need the human's blood, but we need it to survive. So even if Jeffery had succeeded in killing me, he would have destroyed the entire vampire race before the first one hundred years." "So what do we do about Jeffery and Henry?" Victore asked. "We take them out," he said, grinning. ****

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Lauren Pilla Victore and Anastasia watched as Fredrick opened the same closet door with the small

fridge, and a secret panel appeared revealing a massive wall covered in weapons behind it. There were guns, knives, and even swords. At any minute, Fredrick could rally the troops and head into battle. Everything had its proper place. An old-time pistol hung next to a brand new glock. A long sword took up residence next to compact knives. And there were stakes; lots and lots of stakes. "Fredrick? Where did you get all these weapons?" Victore asked as his mouth hung open. Fredrick grinned. "Here and there, you could say. Have at it, my friend." Fredrick clapped him on the back. "I'm glad I don't have to kill you," he said with a genuine smile. "Can I have a weapon?" Anastasia asked as she picked up a sword and stroked it with her hand. Her index finger slid along the blade and it stung like a paper cut. A thin line of red liquid welled, and she had a sudden urge to lick the blood off her finger. She watched the males lick their lips, and she quickly sucked the blood away. "I want this one," she said, still holding the sword. Victore and Fredrick both grabbed stakes and some blades. Both told her their rules for guns. Guns were for cheaters and too impersonal for what Jeffery and Henry had done. She had assumed Henry would have heard the commotion going on and run off to Jeffery and warned him that the cavalry was on their way. The door to Fredrick's office opened, and no sign of Henry anywhere confirmed her suspicious. Creepy old man. The trio exited the office with a clear mission in sight. Kill Henry and destroy Jeffery. Anastasia couldn't believe how her life had turned upside down in a matter of days—or was it hours? She'd never understand the hotel thing. She went from a small-town girl with a shopping addiction to a vampire on the hunt with a shopping addiction. At least one thing hadn't changed. Stability—one had to start somewhere. Anastasia glanced down at the sword in her hand and thought how she had no skills to use it. She'd demanded to come along and fight, but she didn't realize that she didn't know how. If something happened to her, Victore would kill her. It would

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break his heart if she got hurt, and God help her, she loved him. Truly loved him with all her heart. In the real world outside of Hotel Sinn, a day hadn’t even passed yet. Not even four hours had gone by. But inside, only a couple of days had gone by, and she'd fallen head over stiletto heels in love with her vampire. And now that she’d turned, they could live together forever. They headed toward Jeffery's quarters, and when they arrived, it was in shambles, destroyed just like Victore's room. "What the hell?" Anastasia said as she looked around. "This is different. There’s just something different." She wandered from room to room as the men watched her intently, passing by damaged furniture and broken glass. Suddenly she clutched her head in pain and screamed. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the floor, cutting her legs up with the broken glass. Victore rushed to her side. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Is it a panic attack?" Fredrick arched an eyebrow and mouthed the words "panic attack" toward Victore. "Don't ask," he said. "No, I saw them. Oh god, Victore, I saw them." Tears sprung from her eyes as she grabbed hold of her man. Her knuckles turned white as she held on for dear life. "Here," she sobbed. "He attacked her here, after he healed. I can see everything as if it's a horror movie." Fredrick yanked Anastasia from Victore's embrace and held her tightly by the shoulders. She saw his eyes turn from a normal brown to a pure rage. If you could classify rage as a color, that'd be it. "Tell me what you saw! Is she okay? Mary, is she okay? Answer me." He throttled her like a rag doll. "Fredrick, remove your hands from her, or I will remove them for you," Victore snarled. Fredrick must have realized what he did and released her. "I'm sorry," he said, out of breath. His worry-stricken face showed a clear sign of how he felt about her.

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Lauren Pilla Anastasia closed her eyes and concentrated on the brief scene she'd just witnessed in her

mind. She prayed it was only a fluke and nothing more than a side effect of becoming a vampire. She couldn’t handle that kind of fortuneteller, clairvoyant-power thing on a regular basis. "I can't see everything, but she’s in here, the bedroom, picking out something to wear. Her clothes are caked in dried blood. There's Jeffery!" She jumped out of the way as if he really stood in front of her. "He grabbed her from behind. She screamed." Anastasia screamed as well. "There’s a rope. He’s strangling her!" Her eyes still closed, she reached out, trying to help Marianne. But she swatted at air. "She went limp. Oh no, he’s dragging her somewhere. I can't see." She moved her hands, trying to see, trying to grasp onto the last of the vision as it went completely dark. "I'm sorry, I can't see any more. We have to help her!" "That son of bitch killed her! His death will be slow and painful," Fredrick growled out, demanding vengeance. Victore grabbed Fredrick's face with both hands. "My friend, we will get him. Marianne is still alive; don’t loose hope. This was just a glimpse, a vision. And when we do save her, you two can make up for lost time," he said reassuringly. The three gathered their weapons and headed out. Since they didn't want to alert the whole hotel, they quietly went through the kitchen to see if anyone had heard or seen anything. The kitchen appeared empty, but she heard a noise. The rattling came from underneath the wooden island in the middle of the kitchen. It was a child, who appeared curled up in tiny ball, hiding with a soup pot over her head. The poor thing shook like a leaf. Anastasia approached her first. She bent down and whispered to the girl. "Not so long ago, I hid in a cupboard, too." The girl lifted the soup pot from off her head. Small in size, Anastasia guessed her age at no more then four years old. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her eyes swollen. So tiny and little, so precious.

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"My name’s Anastasia, but you can call me Ana if you'd like. What’s your name?" Anastasia watched the little girl look up and glance over at the two males holding a stake in each hand. The poor girl must have gotten scared and pulled the soup pot back over her head. "Can you two put the weapons away for a minute? You're terrifying her." She sighed. "It's okay, they won't hurt you. They're my friends." She peeked her head out of the pot, almost wearing it as a hat, and spoke quietly. "I'm Ellie." "Hi, Ellie. It's nice to meet you. Can you tell me why you’re hiding?" "Ma told me to." "Where is your ma?" "She went with Jeffy. He grabbed her hair." Anastasia rubbed Ellie's back for comfort as she spoke to Victore. "Who’s her mother?" "Ginger. She doesn't have a male. She is Marianne's best friend." "Ginger? Are you kidding me?" The males gave her a confused expression. Obviously neither had watched Gilligan's Island. She sighed and focused her attention back on Ellie. "Sweetheart, why don't you go back to your room? We'll get your ma back okay." Ellie nodded. "He was mean to my ma." Anastasia's heart broke for the little girl. Then she felt a tiny body plastered against her with small, delicate, cold hands clutching her neck tight. "Thank you, Ana." Anastasia heard the sobs coming from the little girl and hugged her back. "Run to your room, go now. I will come check on you with your ma, okay?" The little girl smiled and took off. "We have to get her mother back for her." Victore placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "We will, darling, we will." ****

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Lauren Pilla Fredrick went ballistic. “First Marianne and now Ginger. Jeffery is so going down. There's

only one place he could be," he said in a menacing voice. "Where?" "The sacrifice room. He’s going to make them sacrifices." They geared up for battle and headed to the sacred room, once used for a sacred ritual, the one and only reason humans entered into Hotel Sinn. The holy room laid a few floors below, and off they went through a hidden entrance that only Fredrick knew about. Only the Master and a few special vampires were allowed access to the sanctified room. Victore saw the relief on Fredrick’s face when he confessed the true reason about humans in the hotel. It didn't make him feel better about it, but at least he knew the potentially deadly secret. Jeffery would pay for everything he had done. According to Fredrick, he would have destroyed everything and everyone. Who knew if Jeffery would have continued the rituals after he’d taken over. The reality, however, was that with no human blood, the vampires would wither away. The hotel would crumble with no life occupying its rooms. Hotel Sinn lived just like the vampires. It kept up with times on the outside, adding and replacing some of its structure. But no life, no hotel. Everything would vanish except a pile of rubble, and that too would eventually turn to dust. The vampires stalked to the ritual room with the intent to kill Jeffery. Fredrick had expressed his clear intention with Victore earlier. He’d given him the blow by blow on how his blade would pierce Jeffery and Henry through the heart and he’d carry Marianne back to his room to make love to her like he should've done years ago. Victore had never seen him so determined, and he’d make damn sure to stay out of his way. The doors of the sacrifice room flew open, giving the three a most dramatic entrance. The bastards looked bored and continued with their tasks of tying up the females. Fredrick had a blade in one hand and a stake in the other. Rage and fury erupted all over his face. Anastasia and Victore followed behind him, Victore ready to fight, but Anastasia—he just prayed she didn't get hurt, or he’d lose his mind.

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Marianne slumped over in a chair, positioned in the middle of the room, still unconscious. Ginger lay on a black and white marble slab with her wrists and ankles bound. They tied her to the altar where human blood was drained for its nutrients. Blood dripped from her mouth; the beginnings of a bruise formed on the side of her face. Someone struck her quite a few times, it appeared. Her clothes, torn, left little to the imagination. More dried blood ran down her legs. Victore could only imagine what had happened to Ginger. His mind thought about the frightened little girl, Ginger's daughter Ellie. He would make it right for her. Jeffery had no time to explain anything to his Master since Fredrick punched him square in the face. Right hook, and then a left, he continued to pummel his face. Jeffery fell to the ground, and Fredrick straddled him. He was unrelenting with his assault, and Anastasia ran toward Ginger while Victore ran to Marianne. His stomach turned at the thought of what could have happened had they been any later. "Henry, do it now!" Jeffery shouted in between punches. Jeffery's fist connected with Fredrick's jaw, and blood sprayed everywhere. Jeffery’s body dominated Fredrick’s in size. His ridiculously huge fist could have easily doubled as a giant cartoon-sized mallet at that moment. Fredrick stabbed Jeffery in the shoulder with a long blade. The force of the blade pierced not only flesh but bone, and the concrete floor cracked underneath his body. Jeffery let out a massive roar like a grizzly bear. On the other side of the room, Henry moved to intercept Anastasia. She quickly went to work on Ginger's ankles, trying to unshackle them. He brought his own stake up and lunged for her. She moved quickly out of the way, spinning with the grace of a dancer. Victore, busy untying Marianne, checked on Anastasia and saw Henry near her, about to stake Ginger. Anastasia clumsily swung her sword around and made contact with only air. Henry laughed and pulled a gun on her, shooting her in the shoulder.

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Lauren Pilla "You cheated," she whispered, but it rang out clear as day to Victore, and he roared, deadly,

dark, and dangerous. He would kill Henry, rip him limb from limb, for shooting his love. Anastasia stood, paralyzed by the shot, and watched Henry lift his arm to stake Ginger. "No!" Anastasia screamed, covered in blood from her shoulder wound, and she attacked Henry. He elbowed her in the face and knocked her back. It gave him time to pierce through Ginger's heart. "Oh God, no!" she shrieked, and Victore instantly stopped, unable to believe what he was witnessing. Within seconds, the look on Anastasia's face turned to pure murderous hatred, and she let out growl, held up her sword, and swung. Henry's head landed on the floor with a thump, and she swayed. His love, his sweetheart, just killed a vampire, a ruthless bastard of a vampire. He rushed to her side before she collapsed from blood loss. Jeffery laughed. "One female down, two to go." He turned his head in Anastasia's direction. "Or is it two down?" "You fucking asshole!" Fredrick shouted. Anastasia, with Victore’s help, shuffled over to Ginger. He held her up as she tried to yank the stake out, but she bent her head down toward Ginger's mouth as if listening to her. She nodded with tears in her eyes and yanked out the stake. Ginger's body aged before their eyes and disintegrated to dust. He lowered her to the floor. She bled heavily on the marble. Ironic that her blood flowed in the sacred room. “Love, it’s going to be okay. Look at me, sweetheart.” Jeffery's laughter became frightfully maniacal as it echoed through the chamber. Two blades and a stake stuck out of Jeffery's brick house of a body. He continued to laugh as he ripped out one stake and then the other, picking himself up off the bloodstained marble. He threw a right hook at Fredrick. Adrenaline at its best. Victore clutched Anastasia to his chest; he heard shallow breaths. He knew she’d lost too much blood.

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Marianne picked up the long sword that had fallen to the floor and headed straight for the fighting males. "Marianne! Are you okay?" Fredrick asked, concerned. "I knew one day she would get you killed." Jeffery smirked, raising his hand with a bloodsoaked stake while Fredrick was distracted by Marianne. Jeffery stood, about to strike for the kill, just inches away from Fredrick's heart, when suddenly Marianne shoved the sword through his gut. "You asshole. How could you?" she yelled. Blood poured out of the wounds and out of his mouth. His breath labored. "Because you're a whore,” he said hatefully. "Whore? I'll show you whore!" Fredrick stood there while Marianne twisted the sword, and in one swift movement, she lifted the sword up, splitting Jeffery's upper torso in two. His body disintegrated into a bloody mess of ash. Marianne ran into Fredrick's arms, and he held her tight against his body and didn't let go. Victore still clung to Anastasia on the ground. He tore open his wrist and commanded her to drink. “That’s it sweetheart, drink.” She made gurgling sounds as the blood poured into her mouth. Slowly, she turned her swallows into gulps. Her skin knitted together, healing her until she was whole again. Finally, she'd consumed enough of Victore's blood and began to sit up. She hugged him, still wincing in pain. ”Easy, love, you’re going to be sore for a while. You had some nice moves tonight.” "Anastasia, what did Ginger say to you?" All eyes pivoted to her, waiting for her response. "Ginger said to take care of Ellie," she said with her head down. **** Six Months Later

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Lauren Pilla Anastasia adjusted her dress while looking into her full-length mirror. Touching up her

makeup, she asked Victore to clasp her necklace together around her neck. "You have everything?" she asked him. "Yes. Ready to go, my darling?" "Yep, let's go." Anastasia placed a kiss on Victore's cheek and left their hotel suite, heading for the ballroom. It had taken some getting used to, living in a hotel, unable to leave now that the hotel hid from the outside world. Victore told her she didn’t have to worry about working that he’d take care of her. She would, however, miss her friends, but she had already made new ones. She still didn't quite understood it all, but every day, Victore gave her a history lesson. Her visions still occurred, and Victore had told her every vampire had some kind of power. She knew Victore owned mind control. He also told her that Marianne could control the element of fire, although she rarely used it. Fredrick could make things move with his mind. It fascinated her to learn about everyone. She owned the power of visions and painstakingly worked on controlling them. Anastasia saw a vision of what happened to the other innocent humans, and it horrified her. She also suggested that, before the hotel disappeared, they try the nutrients from animal blood instead of human blood. She reasoned people can milk a cow and use it for meat, so why not take blood too. Fredrick had agreed, and from then on, no more sacrifices would ever happen again. Anastasia felt good. She saved potential innocents, the other vampires liked her, and she wed the most wonderful vampire ever. Victore and Anastasia arrived at the ballroom. The very room that had brought them together. They were there for another party, except this one happened to be a birthday party for a newly crowned five year old. A little girl squealed as they entered and ran toward them. "Hey, birthday girl!" "Aunt Ana, you came!" the little girl said. "Of course I came. I wouldn't miss it for anything!" She leaned down and gave her a big hug. Victore sighed dramatically until the birthday girl noticed him.

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Ellie giggled. "Uncle Vic, you're so funny." Ellie crooked her small finger for him to bend down, and she kissed him on the cheek. "Did you bring me a present?" "Oh, let me see, did I? I don't remember." Anastasia teased her but handed over the gift. Ellie tore it open like a professional. "What is it?" she asked, looking at the round gold piece. "It's a locket." She fidgeted with the locket and finally opened it, revealing a picture of a beautiful woman inside. "It's ma!" She kissed the picture of her mother and whispered, "I miss ma." "Now anytime you miss her, you can talk to her right there in your locket." She put the necklace over her head and hugged Anastasia tightly. After releasing her, Ellie ran over to Marianne, whose limbs entangled in Fredrick's arms, to show her the gift. Marianne gasped, and Anastasia could see tears in her eyes as Ellie showed her the locket. She picked up the little girl and held her in her arms, mouthing "thank you" to Anastasia. Fredrick and his woman had tried to keep their dating a secret, but with nowhere to go, the entire hotel found out within a couple of days. After a few cheers and hollers from some of the vampire males, the secret came out. They stole kisses when they thought no one saw them. Happiness continued to show through their faces. Fredrick and Marianne had taken Ellie in as their daughter, and the love between the three of them could hardly be described. Victore wrapped his arms around her and placed gentle kisses on her neck. "So does this bring back any memories for you, my darling?" Anastasia giggled. "I think I vaguely remember something about our first real meeting." She turned around and now faced her vampire husband, snaking her arms around his neck, kissing his pouting lips. "Vaguely? I seem to remember you screaming for more," he said, grinning. "Maybe you could refresh my memory," she said, smiling.

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Lauren Pilla "I could childproof the doors to the terrace so that we can be alone," he said, pulling her

closer to his firm body. "That's not all the childproofing you would have to do," she said, sliding her hands down to her belly. "What?" She laughed as Victore's complexion turned even whiter. Anastasia nodded to his unasked question. "I'm pregnant, and you're going to be a daddy." He picked her up and twirled her around the ballroom, shouting to whoever would listen, "I'm going to be a father!" "My darling, a little vamp of our own. I'm so thrilled." Anastasia giggled as he began fussing over her well-being. "Do you need me to get you anything? A drink, a chair perhaps? Maybe you should sit down and stay off your feet." "Victore, relax, I'm fine, and please, it's only been a couple of weeks. I'm all right, my love." She placed a tender kiss on his cheek. "You know, dear, I think you had this planned from the start when you handed me that invitation in the mall." "No, this is much better."

*THE END*

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About The Author Lauren resides on the East Coast with her husband. An avid reader of anything involving Romance, she fell in love with all things paranormal. Vampires, fairies, and werewolves just to name a few of the supernatural creatures that have captured her heart. Now her passion is to create her own paranormal fantasies. She loves to create characters on wild adventures, never knowing where they will end up. When she isn’t busy in her fantasy land she can be found reading or out finding a good sale. Lauren has the love and support of her absolutely fantastic husband and wonderful friends. http://laurenpilla.blogspot.com

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Lauren Pilla

Secret Cravings Publishing www.secretcravingspublishing.com