The scent of night-blooming jasmine clings to my lab coat as I push through the double doors of the Botanical Research Center at 11 PM. Most people would find it strange that I'm delivering plant samples at this hour, but when you're dating a vampire, your schedule tends to shift toward the nocturnal. "Adrian?" I call out, balancing the container of rare orchid specimens against my hip. The fluorescent lights flicker in the hallway, casting shadows that dance across the walls. He texted me twenty minutes ago asking me to bring the samples to Lab 4—his private research space where we've spent countless nights cataloging extinct plant species he's collected over his two centuries of existence. That's how we met, actually. I was a graduate student struggling with my thesis on adaptive plant mutations, and he was the mysterious visiting professor who seemed to know more about botanical history than anyone had the right to. It took three months before he revealed what he was. Another two before I believed him. Six months after that, I fell in love with him anyway. The door to Lab 4 is slightly ajar, warm light spilling into the darkened corridor. I smile, anticipating the way his silver eyes will light up when he sees the specimens I've managed to cultivate. He's been searching for this particular orchid variant for decades. I push the door open with my shoulder. "Adrian, you won't believe what I—" The words die in my throat. Adrian is there, but he's not alone. A woman with cascading auburn hair sits on the edge of his workbench, her head tilted back in an expression that hovers between ecstasy and surrender. Adrian stands between her legs, one hand cradling the back of her neck with a tenderness that makes my stomach drop, the other holding her wrist to his mouth. His fangs are buried deep in her pale skin. The container slips from my hands. The crash of breaking glass echoes through the lab like a gunshot. Soil and delicate orchid petals scatter across the floor in a constellation of destruction. Adrian's head snaps up, his eyes meeting mine. Blood—her blood—stains his lips. For a moment, we're frozen in a tableau of betrayal: the monster, the willing victim, and the fool who thought she could be enough. "Evelyn." My name sounds like an apology on his tongue. He releases the woman's wrist, but the damage is done. I've seen everything. "I brought your samples," I hear myself say, my voice hollow and distant. I'm looking at the woman now, really looking at her. She's beautiful in that ethereal way that some humans are—the kind of beauty that seems to invite immortal attention. Her eyes are glazed, unfocused, but there's a small smile playing at her lips. She's enjoying this. "It's not what you think," Adrian starts, moving toward me. There's still blood on his mouth. I watch, detached, as his tongue darts out to catch a stray drop from his lower lip. It's an unconscious gesture, one I've seen him make a hundred times after he's fed from the synthetic blood he keeps in the lab fridge. Except he wasn't feeding from a bag tonight. "Really?" I laugh, and it sounds unhinged even to my own ears. "Because it looks like you're feeding from another woman. In our lab. While I was at home cultivating rare orchids for your research." The woman finally seems to register my presence. She blinks slowly, like someone waking from a dream. "Oh," she murmurs, her voice thick and satisfied. "You must be the girlfriend. The human one." The human one. As if that's all I am. All I'll ever be. ---