Matheus Taylor didn’t ask to be murdered. Quin didn’t care. Now, Matheus runs for his life, questions his sexual orientation & defies a mysterious new threat to vampires within his city.

Matheus jerked, clawing at the foul creature clinging to his face and throat. He kicked the wall, triggering a hatbox carpet-bombing of the closet. With herculean effort, he yanked the smothering evil free and cast it away. He scrambled upward, tripping over hats and keepsakes, pressing his palms against the wall for leverage. He gained enough momentum to smack the top of his head against the shelf, triggering a second-wave box attack. Cursing, gripping his head, Matheus lurched out of the line of fire, banging against the closet door. The latch, clearly not one to rely on in a crisis, popped, and Matheus landed face down on the bedroom floor. At least the layer of pillows softened his fall.

“Goddammit,” he said, his face wedged into a pillow embroidered with songbirds.

Above him came a bright burst of laughter. Matheus yanked at the blanket tangled around his feet, and stood up. The nightmare dispersed at the sight of Bianca, curls shaking with her giggles.

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