Chapter 8

Michael Viktor rose with the setting of the sun, breathing in the scent of the dark, the whispers of the night beckoning to him. He looked around at the chapel underground he was in, rising out of the coffin he had slept in. He could sleep anywhere as long as the sun didn’t bother him, but he had always been one not to give up on the dramatic.

He rose out of the coffin with flair, flying rather than stepping out, and grinned when one of the ladies with him whom he had tamed shivered in fright. He laughed. That was why he slept in coffins at times, even though he would rather enjoy the comforts of a big bed. To remind them of who he was and keep them shaken with fear.

He beckoned to one of the ladies, taking pleasure in the way she fidgeted as she made her way toward him, uncertain if she was about to breathe her last.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he crooned, “it’s just a bite. I am not going to hurt you,” he assured her.

She whimpered, swallowing, and glanced at th