A year had passed since the night when the snow of that mansion was stained with fear and revelations.
Now, the morning sun slipped through the window of the small downtown apartment, painting the walls in calm, amber tones.
Kara stretched, still drowsy, and felt the cold yet comforting presence beside her. Alice lay perfectly still, like a Renaissance sculpture, her eyes half-lidded — until they opened the instant Kara moved.
"Morning, dear. You look at me as if I might vanish," Alice murmured, her voice velvety, roughened by the silence of dawn.
Kara smiled, tracing the sharp line of the vampire's jaw with her finger.
"Morning, baby. Maybe because you're too fast. I have to enjoy you while you're still."
Alice leaned in, catching Kara's hand and pressing a kiss to her palm.
"One year… and you still remind me why I chose to remain in this world, instead of retreating into the shadows."
The alarm buzzed, shattering the moment. Kara groaned and jumped out of bed.
"History class in twenty minutes. If I miss roll call again, the professor will crucify me."
Alice followed her into the kitchen, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. While Kara hurriedly gathered books and notes, Alice leaned against the counter, watching her with a quiet, amused smile.
"You know," Alice said casually, an ironic glint in her eyes, "I could help you with that essay on Abraham Lincoln. Let's just say I know stories that never made it into the textbooks. His voice was much higher than people imagine."
Kara laughed, taking a quick sip of coffee.
"I'd love to hear all of them, but if I cite anything 'supernatural' or not listed in the official bibliography, I'll either fail, or get institutionalized."
The day unfolded in its academic routine. Between classes, in the crowded university corridors, Kara and Alice ran into Natalie.
She was leaning against a row of lockers, idly spinning her phone in her hand, boredom etched across her face. When she saw them approaching, she smiled — but there was something in her eyes, a restlessness that had never fully faded since the incident at the mansion.
"Well, look at the couple of the year," Natalie teased. "You two radiate so much domestic bliss it makes me nauseous."
Kara slipped an arm around her friend's shoulders.
"Jealousy's a killer, Nat. What about you? What are you doing tonight? Pizza and movies at our place?"
Natalie hesitated for the briefest moment. Her gaze flicked toward Alice, who was watching her with that silent, predatory attentiveness of someone who hears too much.
"Oh, I can't," Natalie said. "I've got… a lot to review. History paper, you know? Deadly boring, but I need to focus."
Alice narrowed her eyes slightly, catching the lie in the girl's heartbeat — but chose not to confront her.
"Don't study too hard, Natalie. Stress can be dangerous."
"Sure thing, Mom," Natalie shot back with a laugh, already stepping away too quickly. "See you tomorrow!"
As Natalie disappeared into the crowd, Kara sighed.
"She seems fine, right? I think she finally got over last year's trauma."
Alice didn't answer immediately. She watched Natalie's retreating figure until it vanished.
"Maybe…" Alice said at last, lying, to protect Kara's peace. "Let's go home."
That night, Kara and Alice's apartment became a sanctuary. They cooked together, laughed, and later, in the dim hush of the bedroom, surrendered to one another.
Alice kissed Kara with aching intensity, mouths colliding, tongues entwining in slow, heated rhythms. Her hand moved between Kara's thighs, deliberate and urgent, hovering just inches from her lips as she listened to her gasps and watched her eyes roll back.
There was no rush — only the certainty that this moment belonged to them. A stolen fragment of eternity, where love eclipsed the predator's hunger and the mortal's fragility.
Meanwhile, in the cramped room Natalie rented near the university, she was not studying history.
She sat before her laptop, the bluish glow of the screen washing her pale face. The open tabs showed no charts or essays, but obscure forums, urban legends, and maps of the city's underground.
"'The Vampire Club — for those who know where to look,'" she read aloud.
Ever since she had seen what Rose was capable of, the normal world had lost its color. Human routine felt gray, tasteless. The fear she had felt in the snow had mutated into something darker and addictive: curiosity.
She found the address. An abandoned mansion in the industrial district. The password was Scarlet Chalice.
Natalie stood and crossed to the wardrobe. She knew she couldn't enter that place dressed like an ordinary student.
She needed armor. She needed to look like she belonged.
From the back of a drawer, she pulled out clothes she never wore. Tight black leather pants lined with zippers. A dark lace corset that left her shoulders and collarbone bare. Heavy combat boots.
Before the mirror, she smeared black eyeshadow, blending it until her gaze looked deep, dangerous. On her lips, a matte, blood-red lipstick.
Staring at her reflection, she no longer saw the lonely, orphaned Natalie.
She saw someone about to cross a line.
"Okay, Natalie," she whispered, heart pounding. "It's just a weird club. You go in, look around, and leave. Just to see if it's real."
But deep down, she knew it wasn't just to see.
It was to feel.
The club's entrance lay in a damp alley. The iron door vibrated with the bass thundering inside. Natalie gave the password to the bouncer — a colossal man who smelled of cigarettes and danger. He looked her up and down, lingering on exposed skin, then stepped aside.
Inside, heat and sound crashed over her. Red and violet lights cut through the smoke. The electronic music was hypnotic, pulsing. And the scent — unmistakable. Sweat, expensive alcohol, and that metallic note she remembered from the mansion.
Blood.
She moved through the crowd, feeling small and electrified. People danced as if entranced. In shadowed corners, she glimpsed figures locked together in embraces that looked like kisses — but too intense, too still.
Natalie reached the bar and ordered a strong drink, trying to hide the tremor in her hands. She turned, scanning the room, searching for… something she couldn't name.
And then she saw her.
In a raised VIP area, behind a velvet rope, sat Rose.
The vampire lounged with careless elegance, speaking with a flame-haired woman — Ruby. Rose looked bored, lazily swirling a glass filled with a thick, dark liquid.
"See that girl down there?" Ruby teased, nodding toward the dance floor. "I bet you can't walk up and bite her without using hypnosis."
Rose scoffed, rolling her blue eyes.
"Please, Ruby. Don't insult me. You know I can. And I'll have her thanking me afterward."
"I know," Ruby laughed. "I'm just bored."
Rose sighed and swept her gaze across the club, searching for prey — something to make the night interesting.
Her eyes crossed the room.
Passed the crowd.
Passed the bar—
And stopped.
Natalie felt the air leave her lungs.
Rose was staring straight at her.
The memory of the snowfall struck like a blow. Natalie remembered Rose's weight pinning her down, fangs hovering inches from her throat, death whispered against her ear. The terror returned, sharp and freezing.
Above, Rose stopped swirling her glass. A slow, predatory smile curved her lips, surprised, delighted. She tilted her head slightly, as if daring reality itself.
You? Here?
Natalie's survival instinct screamed: RUN.
Her legs shook. She knew what Rose was. She knew this place was a slaughterhouse disguised as a party.
But Natalie didn't run.
She held the gaze.
There was fear — yes. But there was also a magnetic pull, an invisible tether dragging her toward the abyss. She wanted to understand. Wanted to stand close to the fire that had almost consumed her.
Natalie swallowed, straightened her posture, and instead of retreating toward the exit… she stepped forward, deeper into the club's darkness.
Rose saw the movement and her smile widened.
The game had begun again.