The air in the subterranean club, The Crimson Veil, was thick with the metallic tang of copper and the cloying sweetness of expensive perfume. It was a sanctuary for the night-dwellers, a place where the predators could mingle, negotiate, and, occasionally, feed. Elara Vance sat in a secluded booth, nursing a glass of dark red wine that she had barely touched. She was an anomaly here, a fragile mortal in a den of immortals, yet she felt a strange, terrifying comfort in the shadows.Elara knew what she was. She was a beacon, a walking delicacy. Her blood, a rare mutation known only in whispered legends as Sanguis Aureus, was said to possess properties that could invigorate a vampire, heal ancient wounds, and provide a high unlike any other. It was a curse she had borne since she discovered the truth of her lineage, a truth that had forced her into a life of constant vigilance and evasion.Tonight, however, she wasn't hiding. She was hunting.Her gaze swept across the dimly lit room, past the throngs of elegant, pale figures engaged in hushed conversations or languid dances. She was looking for him. Kaelen Thorne.He was a myth even among his own kind. An ancient, a survivor of forgotten wars, who had retreated from the complex politics of the vampire hierarchy. Rumors painted him as aloof, honorable, and profoundly weary of the endless cycle of bloodlust. He was exactly what Elara wanted. She didn't want to be a commodity, a prize to be fought over by ambitious upstarts like Lord Valerius, whose predatory gaze she had felt on her more than once. She wanted to choose her fate. She wanted to be the exclusive provider for a vampire who would value her, not just consume her.