She didn’t know there was blood in every bottle. Desire in every breath.
Midnight Whispers is my new perfume and new company. My hustle, my dream. I score a crate of antique bottles so pretty they practically sell themselves. Orders flood in. I even nail a morning show without fainting.
And then the glass hums.
Cue Gabriel de Clermont: tall, gorgeous, controlled, old in a way that has nothing to do with birthdays. He says vampire blood—his—was used to forge my pretty vintage glass...
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She didn’t know there was blood in every bottle. Desire in every breath.
Midnight Whispers is my new perfume and new company. My hustle, my dream. I score a crate of antique bottles so pretty they practically sell themselves. Orders flood in. I even nail a morning show without fainting.
And then the glass hums.
Cue Gabriel de Clermont: tall, gorgeous, controlled, old in a way that has nothing to do with birthdays. He says vampire blood—his—was used to forge my pretty vintage glass and then the bottles were cursed to addict vampires and create bloodlust.
Against his will. For money and power by a powerful duo. Fantastic.
So my indie dream? Officially bait. On the upside, I’m getting knife lessons (which, yes, doubles as flirting) and a safe house. The bottles won’t stop singing. Neither will my pulse.
I’m chasing a dream of beauty. I find a choir of haunted bottles and a vampire who burns for me. The price of survival? Danger and blood.
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