Chapter 5

When I stepped inside the bar, I was surrounded by night eaters, men who fed on blood to keep themselves young and alive. It was uncommon to see them anywhere as they burned under daylight and mainly they were found hidden in forests and wood, underground rooms, and far away lands—never among witches.

I sat near the bar while surveying the area. My hands were covered with gloves that I had bought for protection. A witch was identified with her blood, the redder it was meant she practiced safe magic and if it was black, she had done wrong. The nerves connecting to my hands had all turned black after I had killed my father.

I had to wear gloves.

"What can I get for you, beauty?" The bartender asked, coming to my side after noticing me—the only female sitting in the bar.

I cleared my throat and turned my head to him, "Just a beer." I whispered.

He nodded and stared at me for another moment before stepping back and bringing a beer for me. In the meantime, I peered around, watching everyone visible in the dim lighting of the bar. Most of them were night eaters, hungry for blood and some of them were werewolves.

My gaze fell upon the man seated at the end of the bar. He spoke to another man whose face was visible to me but not his.

His hair was blond, just as in the vision I had seen.

I rose up from my seat out of curiosity and moved closer, nearly sitting behind him. The bartender returned with a large glass of beer. It was filled to the brim. I barely could even drink a bit of it.

"On the house." He said, grinning at me.

I offered him a smile before lowering my mouth and taking a sip of the beer. That was all. I couldn't drink more without gagging.

I swallowed the bitter taste and turned around, hoping to find the blond-haired man but he was no longer seated behind me.

Fuck. Where did he go?

Before I had the chance to look around, a large frame blocked my view. Raising my head, I met with a pair of bright blue eyes. Something trembled inside me. The vision. The eyes were exactly the same and so was the hair.

Was this the man?

"What is a pretty witch like you doing here all alone?" He asked, taking a seat inches away from me.

I eased myself. But panic continued to well up in my throat as I wondered if he was one of the marked men Alexandria wanted.

This was easier than I thought.

"How do you know I'm a witch?" I questioned while taking a peek at his neck and then his hands.

He placed his hand over mine, brushing his thumb above my glove. "The sun isn't surely going to tan you."

I pulled my hand away and swallowed hard, "My hands are weak—to the cold and the snow." I responded while pushing my shoulders back.

"Mhm, so are mine." He pouted while placing his hand underneath his neck and leaning inward toward me.

I noticed the rest of his visible skin but couldn't find the pentacle. Was it supposed to be visible? It had to be. How else was I going to find out the four marked men?

I tore my gaze from staring at his neck and asked, "What is your name?"

"Yours first?" he waited, sounding a bit cocky but somewhat enticing. He seemed young, but again night eaters lived a very long life. He could be a hundred years old, restoring his beauty and his youth by drinking blood.

"Vivian," I replied.

Instead of responding to my question, he asked me another, "Where do you come from?"

"Your name first," I spoke in the same tone when he asked for mine.

"Callan," he finally said. "What are you doing here? Among these people. You surely don't belong here."

"I'm looking for someone," I replied quickly without even breathing. My throat became dry and parched but I didn't reach for the beer resting on the bar in front of me.

It was disgusting.

"Who?" His gaze barely moved from mine.

"Someone."

I needed to see beneath his clothes, I needed to see if he had the mark of the pentacle on him, I needed to know if he was one of the men Alexandria wanted.

"Where do you come from?" I questioned.

"Somewhere."

I blew out a quick breath and turned away from his unclear responses. God.

The man chuckled before giving me an honest answer, "I come from the court."

"The royal court?" I rose a brow at his response. It wasn't what I expected for it to be.

"Yes."

"That's nice, I suppose. I live nearby with my mother," My fingers wrapped around the large glass of beer and I picked it up before turning to him. "I don't come to these places quite often, but there was someone here I needed to see."

"And did you see that certain someone?"

Glancing at the crowd, I realized it was getting more and more as the sun began to fall. There was only a little time I had to do what needed to be done before my chance was gone.

I leaned forward, shaking my head, "No, not yet."

Keeping him distracted in the conversation was wise while I flipped the glass of beer all over his pants accidentally.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, rushing up on my feet while placing the glass back over the bar.

He jolted as the beer soaked into his shirt and his clothes, "Fuck." He whispered under his breath as his eyes changed colors.

To red.

My heart sank and I stepped back. I had never been close to a night eater. It was common knowledge that night eaters tend to attack more when they were angry.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—it was an accident." I placed my hands under my chin while watching him drain the rest of the beer from his pants.

A few people glanced but quickly turned their heads around. He shuffled near to his seat before scurrying away to the closet washroom. I ran behind him, needing to see him bare.

He was mine if he had the pentacle on his body.

Standing in front of the basin, he let the water flow down before taking a handful of it and hoping the beer would wash it.

"I think you need to remove your shirt," I suggested, standing in front of the door.

A few men passed, staring awkwardly at my presence in their washroom. I didn't care. My heart was thudding hard with both fear and anxiety. I hadn't mingled in public for a long time and now suddenly I was making eye contact with everyone.

"Don't tell me what to do," he glanced in my direction and nearly growled. "God, you're fucking clumsy."

I reached for the larger toilet paper rolls but before I could grab them, he took my wrist and stopped me. My breath hitched, and I stepped away.

"It's fine," his voice lowered as he shook his head, sounding a bit regretful for yelling at me. "I'll just change. It will take a moment. Go back outside and wait."

"But what will you change into?" I questioned, eyeing him.

He unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt and then stepped closer to the door to leave the washroom. I went behind him, trailing my gaze all over him. He possibly couldn't have a new outfit in his car or in his bag—which he didn't even have and I had dropped the whole glass of beer on him, ruining his shirt and pants both.

He had to strip naked to dry them off.

"I have a room upstairs—"

"In this building?" I sounded more than just surprised. "I'll come with you."

"No," he stepped out of the washroom and the bar was crowded with men and a few women. Loud chattering silence filled the silence I had been in once. "It will only take me a moment."

"No, please, I'll come with you. I feel guilty that I dropped it on you. Let me help you. I know how to take off the stains in minutes so your shirt doesn't go in the trash straight." I offered with sincerity in my words while my intentions were entirely different.

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