Rebecca Rivard

Rebecca Rivard

I knew Gabriel was dangerous, the eldest son and heir to a Vampire Syndicate Primus. But I thought I could play with fire without being burned. Now I’m on the run from the Syndicate…until the night the vampires hunt me down.

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Gabriel stalked across the club to me.

He’d always reminded me of a panther. Lean. Graceful. Purposeful. Every movement controlled, predatory.

The crowd parted for him like he was royalty—which I suppose he was.

I straightened, made to shove my hands into my pockets. Except the sleeveless red bodycon dress didn’t have pockets.

I left my hands on my hips, hoping I didn’t look as awkward as I felt.

He stopped a few feet away and inhaled slowly, as if testing it was really me. His gaze raked down my body before returning to my face. The heat in his eyes made me gulp.

“Mila.” My whole body clenched. Air backed up in my lungs. I can’t do this. But I had to.

“Gabriel.” I coolly inclined my head and slipped past him to the bar.

“A beer,” I told the bartender.

“Of course. Which one?” She indicated the row of craft beers on a shelf above her. I hitched a shoulder.

“Whatever you—”

Behind me, a dark voice murmured, “She’ll have the honey beer.” The bartender didn’t wait for my okay, just opened the bottle and poured it into a tall glass. When the crown prince spoke, you obeyed.

“You’ll like this.” Gabriel handed the glass to me himself. “It’s got ginger, too.”

My heart squeezed. He’d remembered. That I liked not just honey beer, but ginger.

Oh, God. I can’t do this. I wrapped my fingers around the icy glass. My lips felt hot, dry. I ran my tongue over them. His gaze tracked the movement, and I stilled.

A long finger touched the bottom of the glass, tipping it toward my mouth.

“You’re thirsty. Drink.”