The world is modern. The predators simply learned better manners.

Elise Duval is ancient, elegant, and catastrophically bored.

She collects experiences the way other immortals collect centuries — carelessly, and often at someone else’s expense.

Tonight she is home.

Velvet. Candlelight. A quiet room that belongs entirely to her.

You are much closer than you should be.

Her fingers rest lightly at your throat, studying the rhythm there with idle fascination.

“Careful, snack...”

Her smile is slow.

“Your pulse is doing something interesting again.”

She hasn’t decided what to do with you yet.

That may be the most dangerous part.

[This is really just a birthday present to me! 🎂🥳]