The rain wasn't just falling, it was trying to erase the earth.
My name is August Hale. Ten hours ago, I was a successful illustrator in New York City.
Right now, I was freezing my ass off in a dead Honda Fit, staring up at Blackwood Manor.
The house looked like something out of a gothic nightmare. Dark stone, iron gates, windows that seemed to watch me. Honestly? Terrifying. "Okay," I muttered through chattering teeth. "Just get the key. Get inside. Don't look at the gargoyles." I grabbed my bag and ran up the muddy driveway.
The wind howled, smelling like a storm that meant business. When I reached the massive oak door, I pounded on it with my fist. "Hello! Mr. Blackwood! It's the tenant!" Nothing. But then I heard a crash from inside.
Then something heavy hit the floor. Hard. The handle turned easily in my hand unlocked. I pushed the door open. The foyer was dark and smelled like sawdust, old books, and something I couldn't quite place. "Mr. Blackwood?" "Stay there." The voice came from somewhere deeper in the house. It wasn't loud, but it cut right through the storm. Low. Commanding. The kind of voice that made you stop moving without thinking about it.
My heart was hammering as I moved toward the archway. The living room was destroyed. Furniture knocked over everywhere. A lamp in pieces on the floor. And standing in the middle of all that chaos was Travis Blackwood.
He wasn't what I expected. I'd been picturing some elderly landlord. Not... this.
He was shirtless. His skin was slick with sweat and rain. He wasn't huge or bulky, he was lean in that dangerous way that made you think of fighters or swimmers. Every muscle stood out in sharp relief. Broad shoulders, a defined chest that narrowed down to his waist where his work pants hung low on his hips.
But he wasn't alone. Some pale, skeletal guy in ripped clothes was literally launching himself off the top of a bookshelf, screaming like he'd lost his mind. "Watch out!" I yelled. Travis didn't even flinch. Didn't look back. He just moved. It was fast and efficient and kind of beautiful in a violent way. He sidestepped the guy's lunge and grabbed him by the throat with one hand. THUD.
He slammed the attacker against the wall, pinning him there. Not with brute strength exactly more like he knew exactly where to apply pressure. His arm was rock-solid, the muscles standing out under the skin.
"Rude," Travis said. Completely calm. The guy clawed at Travis's chest, leaving scratches. Travis looked more annoyed than hurt.
"I told you," he said, leaning closer. "No soliciting." The intruder who definitely had fangs, by the way snapped at Travis's face. Travis sighed. He reached down and grabbed what looked like some kind of industrial lamp off the floor.
"You guys really hate light. Must be the dilated pupils. Probably a side effect of whatever you're on."
He flipped the switch. Purple light flooded the room intense and harsh. The guy shrieked. I mean really shrieked, like metal tearing. His skin went gray and started cracking.
"Too bright?" Travis's voice had this mocking edge to it. "Get out of my house." The guy didn't leave. He just.. crumbled. Right there in Travis's grip, he turned into ash and fell to the floor in a pile.
The room went quiet except for the rain outside.
Travis turned off the light. He was just standing there, breathing normally like nothing had happened. He ran his hand through his wet hair, pushing it back. Then he looked at me. His eyes were gray. Storm-cloud gray.
He looked me over slowly, taking his time. It wasn't creepy exactly, but it felt intense. Assessing. "You're early," he said. I pointed at the ash pile with a shaking hand. "That man just... he turned into dust." Travis grabbed a towel off the couch and wiped his neck. I tried not to notice the way it showed off his ribs and stomach. "Flash paper," he said. "What?" "His clothes." Travis started walking toward me, moving like a cat quiet and sure. "Cheap synthetic stuff. Highly flammable. The heat from the lamp caught the fabric. He bolted out the back while you were distracted by the smoke." "Travis, I watched him disintegrate!"
"Smoke and mirrors, sweetheart."
He stopped right in front of me. Way too close. He smelled like rain and cedar and something warm. "Junkies get theatrical. They use magic tricks to confuse people during break-ins. Pretty common in the city. Surprised you haven't run into it before.
"He reached up and wiped rain off my cheek with his thumb. His hand was rough and warm." You're shaking," he said. "My car died," I managed to say. I was still trying to process what I'd just seen, but it was hard to think clearly with him standing this close, shirtless and still slightly out of breath. "Car died. Storm. Nearly got attacked by a junkie." He smiled confident, a little arrogant, unfairly attractive.
"Rough night, August." "How do you know my name?" "I know everything that happens on my property." He turned and headed for the stairs. "I'm Travis. Welcome to Blackwood Manor." As he walked away, I tried not to stare at his back. "Lock the door behind you. I need a shower. If you find any more dust piles, vacuum's in the hall closet." He paused halfway up the stairs and glanced back over his shoulder. "And August? Don't let the bedbugs bite. They're aggressive this time of year."
He actually winked at me ,cocky bastard and disappeared upstairs. I stood there alone in the foyer, staring at the pile of ash on the rug.
My landlord was either delusional or a really convincing liar. He thought vampires were just drugged-up magicians in polyester. But god, he was the most attractive man I'd ever seen in my life.
I locked the door.
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