By Monday afternoon, Rachel had received three calls she did not want to answer and one she could not stop thinking about.

Lindon had left two clipped messages about the unfinished pitch. Beth had sent a steady stream of texts asking if she was alive, working, sleeping, spiralling, or all of the above. The gallery's call had been different.

An art dealer representing a private buyer had offered to purchase every piece Rachel had shown at the exhibition. All ten paintings. At a premium.

When Rachel asked for the buyer's name, the dealer apologised and explained that the client wished to remain anonymous. Rachel had thanked her, ended the call, and spent the next ten minutes staring at her phone with a cold certainty settling in her stomach.

Vlad.

It had to be Vlad.

No ordinary buyer would purchase an entire collection from an unknown artist after one exhibition, not without asking questions or wanting to meet her. But Vlad had looked at her paintings as if they were evidence rather than art. Egypt. Etna. Places he recognised from dreams she had thought belonged only to her.

The sale should have thrilled her. A week ago, it would have. A single buyer taking every piece at a premium was the kind of impossible break she had imagined while working late nights and painting on weekends, telling herself that one day her art might become more than a private escape.

Now the offer felt like another thread tightening around her.

Rachel had called in sick that morning, partly because she could not face Lindon without the completed pitch and partly because she had no idea how to sit in an office and pretend to care about campaign angles when vampires, ancient creatures, and buried memories had begun circling her life.

She spent the morning trying to cobble together a replacement proposal, but every line felt hollow. The work was a pale imitation of the idea Lindon had already dismissed, and she could not summon the energy to make herself care.

When her phone buzzed again, she expected another message from Beth or Lindon.

Instead, it was from an unknown number.

Coffee? There is more we need to discuss. Nearby cafe. Darius.

Rachel stared at the message, unease moving through her. She had not saved his number. She had not given it to him, at least not willingly. The last clear memory she had of Darius was his arm around her, his voice soft in her ear, and light swallowing the club before she woke in her own bed.

Still, the emptiness inside her had not faded. Neither had the pull beneath her ribs whenever she thought of Vlad.

Rachel glanced at the unfinished pitch, then closed the laptop.

If she was going to be dragged into the world of creatures, she needed to understand the rules before they destroyed her. She changed out of her black pyjamas into denim shorts and a black tank top, grabbed her bag, and stepped into the brutal afternoon heat.

The cafe was only a short walk away, but by the time she reached it, sweat clung to the back of her neck and her patience had thinned. Inside, the air-conditioning offered immediate relief. The cafe was busy with university students hunched over laptops, iced coffees sweating on wooden tables, and conversations rising and falling beneath the hiss of the espresso machine.

Darius sat at a corner table with two iced coffees already waiting.

He stood when he saw her, his smile warm enough to seem almost human. That was what made him dangerous, Rachel thought. Vlad announced himself as a threat. Darius made danger feel like kindness.

"This is for you," he said, gesturing to the second drink.

Rachel remained standing. "How did you get my number?"

His smile softened. "Sit down, Rachel."

"I asked a question."

"And you deserve an answer."

She sat, but she did not touch the coffee.

Darius folded his hands on the table, his expression careful. "You gave it to me."

Rachel stared at him. "No, I didn't."

"You did, but you were exhausted and under my influence. I asked for your address so I could take you home safely. You gave me your phone and added my number."

Rachel leaned back, anger cutting through her unease. "You understand that does not make it better, right? You're telling me I gave you access to my home and my phone while I wasn't fully in control of myself."

Darius's expression shifted with what looked like guilt. "I know."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Because from where I'm sitting, you sound like the polite version of a nightmare."

He accepted the criticism without flinching. "I influenced you because your body was failing. Without rest, you could have hurt yourself and Vlad through the bond."

"That does not give you the right to make decisions for me."

"No," he said quietly. "It does not."

The answer was so simple that Rachel's anger lost some of its shape. She looked down at the iced coffee, suspicious despite herself.

"It is just coffee," he said.

"That is exactly what someone would say if it wasn't."

A faint smile touched his mouth. "Fair."

Rachel picked up the cup and took a cautious sip. It tasted like coffee, milk, and too much sugar. Nothing glowed. Nothing shifted inside her, except perhaps her mood.

"Vlad showed up at my exhibition yesterday," she said. "Did you send him?"

"No. Vlad goes where he pleases, especially when he thinks something belongs to him."

"I don't belong to him."

"I know."

The certainty in his voice unsettled her. It should have comforted her, but instead it carried an intensity that felt too personal, too quickly formed. Darius looked at her as if her safety had become a responsibility he had accepted before she had asked him to carry it.

Rachel studied him. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you need help."

"You barely know me."

"I know what you are."

"You don't, actually. Everyone keeps saying Aphrodite like that explains anything, but no one seems to know what it means."

His gaze lowered briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes. "Then let us find out."

She looked away first. "Does sunlight hurt you?"

Darius chuckled, the moment of tension easing. "No. That is a human myth. Sunlight is unpleasant to some creatures, comforting to others, but it does not turn vampires to ash."

"So what makes you a creature of light and Vlad a creature of darkness if you are both vampires?"

His expression became more solemn. "Choice. Nature gives us hunger. Power gives us temptation. What we become depends on what we do with both."

"You still feed from people."

"Yes."

"Do you kill them?"

"No." He sounded almost offended. "Those who give essence to me do so willingly. Blood carries life, and life is not something I take lightly."

"Vlad said he eats creatures who bond with him."

"Vlad is a warrior with a dark past. He has done terrible things, and he has survived terrible things. These days he serves as much as he destroys, though I doubt he would enjoy hearing me describe it as penance."

Rachel thought of Vlad at the exhibition, studying her paintings with something almost like reverence before telling her to break the bond. "He doesn't seem like a man seeking redemption."

"No. He seems like a man who stopped believing he deserved it."

The remark stayed with her longer than she wanted it to.

Rachel wrapped both hands around the cold cup. "And what does that make me?"

Darius watched her with a softness that made the air between them feel charged. "Powerful. Unformed. Dangerous, perhaps, but not by choice."

"That isn't comforting."

"Comfort will not help you survive this."

Rachel studied him over the rim of her iced coffee. "You and Vlad have that in common."

Darius's expression shifted, faintly wounded beneath the charm. "I hope not too much."

The conversation settled into a quieter rhythm. Darius answered what he could, though he chose his words carefully. The connection between them remained faint but present, a residue of his blood influence or her own strange essence. Rachel could not tell where his pull ended and hers began.

After a while, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his.

His fingers stilled beneath hers.

"I feel like you're tuning into my thoughts," she said. "Or maybe I'm sensing yours. I don't know anymore. Are you influencing me?"

Darius's smile turned rueful. "A little blood goes a long way."

Rachel did not move her hand. "And what about me?"

His expression faltered. "What do you mean?"

"Am I doing something to you?"

For a moment, he did not answer.

The silence told her more than she liked.

"I feel drawn to you," he admitted. "More than I should, perhaps. Your essence is unlike anything I have known."

"That sounds like a problem."

"It may be."

"You don't seem worried enough."

His thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles, and his voice lowered. "When I am near you, worry feels less important than protecting you."

Rachel pulled her hand back.

The words should have been romantic. They were not. There was something too certain in them, too devoted for a man who had known her only days. He looked at her as if guarding her had become not a choice, but a purpose.

"Darius," she said carefully, "that is not normal."

"No," he said, his gaze still fixed on her. "I suppose it is not."

They left the cafe soon after. Darius offered to walk her back, and Rachel agreed, partly because she wanted answers and partly because she was not ready to be alone with her own thoughts. By the time they reached the secluded lobby of her building, the afternoon heat had softened into a heavy golden haze beyond the glass doors.

The lobby was empty.

Darius stopped near the lifts. "You are still depleted."

"I slept almost all day."

"Sleep is not the same as nourishment."

"I am really starting to hate that word."

He smiled faintly, then reached into his pocket and opened his palm. A small silver pendant rested against his skin, shaped like a dove in flight.

Rachel looked from the pendant to him. "What is that?"

"A gift."

"Why?"

"The dove was sacred to the Aphrodite. A symbol of love, purity, return, and peace." His voice shifted as he spoke, becoming quieter, almost reverent. "If the world insists on telling you what you are, perhaps you should have at least one symbol you choose for yourself."

Rachel stared at the necklace. It was beautiful, delicate without being fragile. A week ago, she would have thought it thoughtful. Now she could not tell whether it was kindness, worship, or another kind of claim.

"You barely know me," she said.

"Perhaps not."

"But you know what I am?"

His eyes lifted to hers. "I know enough to believe you should not face this alone."

The certainty in his voice unsettled her. Vlad had said bonds were often about protection. Darius had said some creatures survived by making others love them, trust them, or worship them. Rachel wondered whether the pendant was a gift or the first visible sign of something neither of them understood.

Still, she took it.

"I'll put it on myself," she said.

Darius inclined his head and handed it to her.

Rachel fastened the chain around her neck. The metal was cool against her skin, and for a moment the hollow ache inside her eased, as if the symbol had woken some quiet recognition. Darius watched with an expression that made her feel both seen and exposed.

"You said there was someone who might have answers," Rachel said.

"There is," Darius replied. "An ancient creature called Myus. Vlad does not trust him, but Myus knows histories that most creatures have forgotten."

"If Vlad doesn't trust him, why should I?"

"You should not trust him."

Rachel stared at him. "That is a bold opening argument."

Darius gave a small, apologetic smile. "You should trust me to get you out if he becomes dangerous."

"You hear yourself, right?"

"Yes."

"And you still think this is a good idea?"

"I think ignorance is more dangerous."

Rachel looked towards the lift, then back at him. The sensible thing would be to go upstairs, lock her door, and return to the unfinished pitch waiting on her laptop. The sensible thing would not involve driving into the mountains with a vampire to meet an ancient creature who came with a warning label.

"Fine," she said slowly. "Give me the address. I'll go alone."

Darius's expression shifted. "It is not that easy."

"Of course it isn't."

"Myus does not exactly live somewhere you can put into a rideshare app."

"Is that because he's ancient and mysterious, or because he's trying to avoid council rates?"

Darius laughed, and the sound was warm enough to ease some of the tension between them. "Both, perhaps. His home is hidden. Even if you reached the road, you would not find the cottage unless he allowed it and he doesn't allow strangers."

Rachel folded her arms. "So what are you suggesting?"

"I can take you now."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"You just happen to be free?"

His mouth curved. "I have not had much on for the last few decades. Except for draining humans of their precious blood, of course."

She stared at him.

Darius winced and lifted a hand. "Bad joke."

"Terrible joke."

"I realised that as soon as I said it."

"Did you?"

"A fraction too late."

Some of the fear in Rachel loosened, though not enough to fully place her trust in him. Darius was dangerous. His blood was still a thread between them, and his devotion unsettled her more than his fangs. But beneath all of that, she sensed something steady in him. Not harmlessness, exactly. Intention.

He wanted to help her.

Maybe that was her power twisting him into something protective. Maybe it was his choice. Maybe the difference mattered less than it should have when her world was falling apart and Vlad was starving through a bond she did not know how to break.

Rachel looked down at her hands, remembering the violet light that had risen around her in the alley. Vlad had not been able to touch her. Darius had only reached her when some part of her had allowed it. If Myus tried to hurt her, perhaps the shield would rise again.

Perhaps.

"This is a terrible idea," she said.

"Probably."

"You're meant to reassure me."

"I would rather not lie."

Rachel sighed, then reached for the strap of her bag. "Stuff it. Let's go before I remember I have common sense."

Darius's expression softened, and for a moment that unsettling reverence returned to his eyes. "I will keep you safe."

Rachel pointed at him. "No dramatic vows. Just drive."

He smiled. "As you wish."

Darius drove them away from the city and into the mountains. Rachel watched from the passenger seat as buildings gave way to dense trees, winding roads, and glimpses of water flashing between the slopes. The national park looked almost unreal in the late afternoon light, with the canopy closing over the road and long shadows stretching across the bitumen.

When Darius turned onto an old dirt track, Rachel's nerves returned. The car bounced over the uneven road until they emerged into a clearing where a small cottage sat beneath towering trees. Birds perched everywhere: crows along the fence, hawks in the branches, owls watching from the shade despite the daylight. Their eyes followed Rachel as she stepped out of the car.

She moved closer to Darius without meaning to.

"Why are there so many birds?"

"They are his spies."

"Of course they are."

An old man stood by the cottage door. He was thin and stooped, with silver hair, sharp eyes, and a stillness that did not belong to age. His gaze moved over Rachel slowly, and she had the horrible sense that he was not looking at her face or body, but through the layers of her skin to whatever light Darius and Vlad kept insisting was there.

"So," the old man said. "This is the girl."

Darius's posture changed beside her. He became more formal, more guarded. "Myus."

The old creature smiled, and the expression did nothing to warm him. "Come in."

The cottage smelled of dust, herbs, old paper, and feathers. Rachel sat beside Darius on a worn lounge while Myus lowered himself into an armchair opposite them. A crow landed on the windowsill and tapped once against the glass.

Rachel leaned towards Darius. "Is that normal?"

"For him, yes."

Myus chuckled. "The birds listen better than most creatures."

Rachel tried not to look at the crow.

Darius leaned forward. "Is what I told you true?"

Myus's gaze settled on Rachel, and the room seemed to grow colder despite the afternoon heat outside. "Her light is unmistakable. Purple essence was known only to the Aphrodite."

Rachel's mouth went dry.

Hearing the word from Darius had been frightening. Hearing it from Myus felt worse, as though an old door had opened beneath her feet.

"I don't know what that means," she said.

"No," Myus replied, studying her with sharp interest. "That is what makes you strange. Aphrodites were not usually raised in ignorance. Their kind understood what they were from childhood. They were guarded, taught, worshipped and feared. For one to stand before me now with no knowledge of her own nature is unusual."

Darius shifted closer to her. "She has been unwell. How does she replenish her essence?"

Myus's gaze flicked to him, and a knowing smile curved his mouth. "Already concerned. How quickly the light teaches men to kneel."

Darius stiffened. "Careful."

"I am being careful. You are the one who should be concerned."

Rachel looked between them. "What does that mean?"

Myus's smile sharpened. "It means your essence is already working, child, whether you understand it or not. Aphrodites thrive on love, desire, affection and devotion. Love is the strongest. Desire is easier. Devotion is the most dangerous, because those who offer it often begin to mistake surrender for purpose."

Rachel's fingers moved to the dove pendant at her throat.

Darius saw the movement, and pain crossed his face. "Rachel, you are not doing anything to me."

Myus laughed softly. "That is what they all say when devotion still feels like choice."

The words settled heavily between them.

Rachel pulled her hand from Darius's, unsettled by how quickly he had reached for her and how little he seemed to notice the instinct behind it.

"What about Vlad?" she asked. "Why is the bond hurting him?"

Myus began to pace. "Because the bond is not symbolic. He feels your needs as his own. As your essence craves nourishment, so does his. But he cannot satisfy a hunger that belongs to you. You are starving yourself, and in doing so, you are starving him. If one of you collapses, both may fall."

Rachel's throat tightened. "Can I break the bond?"

"Of course."

Relief came too quickly. "How?"

"Together."

Rachel waited, but Myus only smiled.

"You were hoping for something simpler."

"I was hoping for something useful."

Darius's voice sharpened. "Tell her what she needs to know."

"She needs to feed. She needs to learn control. And she needs to understand why creatures will come for her once they know what she is."

Rachel drew a careful breath. "Because I'm an Aphrodite?"

"Because you may be the Aphrodite."

Darius went still.

Rachel looked between them. "What does that mean?"

Myus lowered himself back into his chair, the amusement fading from his face. "A new theory reached me recently. An artefact was found in Italy, old enough to remember what most creatures have forgotten. A creature living as an aristocrat once claimed there was not a race of Aphrodites, but one being reborn through time. One light. One essence. One woman wearing different lives."

Rachel's skin prickled.

"That cannot be right," Darius said. "There were stories of many."

"There are always stories," Myus replied. "Stories breed more stories. Names multiply. Truth becomes mythology. But this aristocrat claimed he witnessed the Abaddon destroy a Roman city where Aphrodite was hiding. He said she drank poison rather than let the creature take her."

Rachel's dreams flashed behind her eyes: fire, screams, black smoke rising over walls, and a cup pressed between trembling hands.

"What happened to the aristocrat?" Darius asked.

"He died in the Great War."

Rachel swallowed. "Who is the Abaddon?"

At the name, Darius went rigid.

Myus looked at Rachel for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice had lost its theatrical edge. "The Abaddon is destruction without mercy. A creature so dark he abandoned his mortal body and became something closer to hunger than flesh. He hunted the Aphrodite across kingdoms and centuries. Some say he wanted to kill her. Some say he wanted to claim her. Some say the difference did not matter."

Rachel's voice dropped. "Can he be killed?"

Myus smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Ask your friend. The creature is dead, yet he cannot truly die. Fire, stone, temples, kings and armies have failed to end him. They only delayed him."

Darius's voice was low. "Do not speak too freely. There are rumours he has spies everywhere."

Myus gave a dismissive wave. "The Abaddon has no power here. Not while her value is greater than anything he could offer me."

Rachel did not like the way he said value. "What does he want?"

Myus leaned forward. "One thing."

"What?"

"That, I cannot say."

"Cannot, or won't?"

His smile returned. "Knowledge has a price."

Darius's arm moved behind Rachel, protective again. "Name it."

Myus held out his hands, palms up. "A taste of her essence."

Rachel stared at him. "No."

"Then take your ignorance home with you."

Darius leaned closer to her. "Myus is a feeder. He trades information for essence. Most feeders take what they want by force. He prefers bargains because they keep him alive."

"Comforting."

"I will not let him harm you."

Myus grinned. "He means that. How charming."

Rachel looked at Darius, then at Myus. She hated this world. She hated that every answer seemed to require some part of her in payment. But Vlad was starving through the bond, her own body felt hollow, and the name Abaddon had turned Darius pale.

"How much?" she asked.

Myus's grin widened. "Only enough to remember youth."

"That sounds like too much."

"Then enough to answer the question you came to ask."

Darius's hand tightened around hers. "You can refuse."

Rachel believed him, but she also saw the strain beneath his control. He wanted her away from Myus. He wanted her safe. Myus was right about that, and the force of it frightened her.

"I need to know," she said.

She placed her hands in Myus's.

His grip closed at once.

The pull was immediate and awful. Rachel gasped as something inside her loosened, drawn out through her skin in a slow, relentless stream. Purple light gathered between their hands, bright at first, then thinning as Myus drank it in. It did not feel like pain exactly. It felt like being emptied.

Darius rose sharply. "Enough."

Myus did not release her.

The room blurred. Rachel tried to pull away, but his grip held firm. Birds shrieked outside, wings beating against the windows as if the whole cottage had woken to feed.

"Myus," Darius warned.

Rachel's breath shortened. The edges of the room darkened, and for a moment she thought she saw another version of Myus beneath the old man's skin: younger, stronger, beautiful in a cruel and hungry way.

Then Darius seized Myus by the throat and tore him away from her.

Rachel fell forward onto the rug, weak and shaking.

The purple light vanished.

Darius was at her side immediately, one arm around her shoulders as he helped her sit upright. His face was calm, but his eyes had gone black.

Myus stood near the armchair, breathing hard, his body already changed. His spine had straightened, his skin looked smoother, and his eyes glittered with vicious satisfaction.

"Remarkable," Myus said. "I feel almost young."

Darius's voice was dangerously quiet. "You took more than agreed."

"I took what she offered."

"You took what she did not understand."

Myus's smile returned. "And there is your devotion again."

Rachel clutched Darius's sleeve, partly because she needed support and partly because she feared what he might do. "Darius. Please."

Her voice reached him.

The black in his eyes receded slightly.

Myus watched them with open fascination. "Heed me, girl. Vlad's hunger mirrors yours. Feed your essence, or he will descend into madness trying to satisfy a craving that is not his alone. As for the Abaddon, if he wants you, hiding will only delay him. You must learn what you are before he reminds you."

Rachel's skin went cold. "Before he reminds me?"

Myus tilted his head. "Do you think forgetting saves you from what you were?"

Darius helped Rachel to her feet. "We are leaving."

This time Myus did not stop them. Birds watched from every branch as Darius guided Rachel out of the cottage and down the path to the car. Her legs shook badly enough that he had to keep an arm around her, but she was too drained to object.

Once she was seated, Darius shut the passenger door and stood outside for a moment, his hand braced against the roof of the car. Through the glass, Rachel saw him close his eyes as if forcing himself back under control.

When he finally got in, his voice was low. "I am sorry."

Rachel looked down at the dove pendant resting against her chest. "For taking me there, or for wanting to protect me so badly you ignored the warning signs?"

Darius did not answer.

As they drove away from the clearing, Rachel watched the cottage disappear between the trees. The birds remained behind, black shapes against the fading light, their eyes following the car until the road curved out of sight.

The world of creatures no longer felt like a secret hidden beneath her ordinary life.

It felt like a mouth slowly opening around her.