Black Swan

𝓕𝓪𝓬𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓭

The next afternoon arrived with the Savannah air thick and heavy, sunlight filtering through the Spanish moss in lazy streaks. Selene Brooks brushed the hem of her Bohemian tour-guide skirt and pulled her badge over her head, steeling herself for another shift at the Savannah Hartland Hotel. She had grown accustomed to the haunted murmur of the place, the way the creaking of floorboards and subtle flickers in the chandeliers felt like living things whispering through the halls.

Her first tour began like all the others. She welcomed a new group, her voice melodic and smooth, expertly narrating the tragic fates of past guests: a heartbroken Civil War widow who hurled herself from the second-story balcony, a jealous bartender who poisoned lovers in the 1920s, and the infamous bride who dragged her bloody groom down the hall after discovering his betrayal.

Spirits lingered.

Selene could see them—flickers of movement, translucent faces pressed behind cracked mirrors, figures in old-time garb floating just beyond the tourists' notice. She never acknowledged them aloud anymore. It unnerved guests and brought too many questions. The ghosts had long since accepted her presence. They drifted like distant memories. Sometimes they even nodded.

She had just finished retelling the tale of Theodore Hartland's hanging—complete with the tragic echo of his final footsteps on the grand staircase—when something in the crowd shifted.

Her eyes swept across the group, and there he was.

The stranger.

He stood toward the back, leaning against the wrought-iron banister. A navy jacket hugged his lean, muscular form. His arms were folded casually, but his gaze was intense—emerald green, glinting with mischief and secrets. His blondish-brown hair curled slightly over his brow. His lips lifted in the ghost of a smirk as her voice faltered.

Selene caught her breath. Her heart thudded. The energy in the air prickled her skin. And then he was gone. When she glanced back, he had vanished into the crowd like one of the spirits.

That night, after the last tour ended and the hotel doors were locked behind her, she found herself wandering toward the old magnolia lamppost where he had bumped into her days ago.

He was already there.

"Tell me, Selene Brooks," the vampire drawled, stepping into the amber light. "What makes you so afraid of guiding the Harrison Estate?"

She froze.

It was him. The man with the emerald eyes and disarming presence. His voice was velvet lined with something darker.

Selene rolled her eyes, even though her pulse quickened. "I already told you, my boss would kill me."

"Would he?" the stranger said, stepping closer. His voice was low and coaxing. "Or are you afraid of what you might find there?"

"Like I said, I don't do private tours," she said, walking toward her car. Her heels clicked on the cobblestones, echoing across the empty lot. He followed, silent and steady.

"Selene," he said, catching up to her. "Please. Just one night. You'll be well compensated."

She turned on him, annoyed. "Why are you so obsessed with that place? No one even goes near the Harrison Estate. the owners are just a bunch of rich assholes."

He stepped closer. Too close. His fingers brushed hers gently as he tried and failed to grab her hand. Selene recoiled like his touch burned.

The stranger's jaw flexed. He didn't like that. "I happen to be close with the owners...really close."

His name was Lucas. She didn't know that yet. But he was a predator, playing a long game, and she was the prey he wasn't ready to kill just yet.

She was supposed to die, that much was clear.

The vampire council had given Lucas the assignment to eliminate Selene and her brother. Their bloodline was some sort of abomination, was what he was told. The council feared what power they might exert upon them all.

But Lucas couldn't bring himself to do it right here. He needed time to do this swiftly and without a mess for humans to see.

There was something at the back of his mind, something just on the tip of his fingertips. Her scent made him dizzy. Cinnamon, vanilla, and the metallic undercurrent of copper. Something about her felt ancient and divine.

It pissed him off.

A low growl rumbled from his chest. Selene stiffened.

"Are you... good?" she asked cautiously.

Lucas blinked, clearing his throat. "Sorry. Just... clearing my throat."

He flashed a charming smile, one he'd perfected over centuries. She wasn't convinced. When white boys started acting weird, that was her cue to leave.

"I should go," Selene said softly, stepping back. "Thanks for walking me."

"Anytime," he replied, voice smooth, but his insides coiled with frustration.

As she drove away, Lucas stood in the quiet parking lot, simmering with conflicting instincts. He had never hesitated before. Never struggled to complete an assignment. But something about her made his fangs retract.

"You're slipping," came a voice from behind him.

Lucas didn't have to turn to know who it was.

Liam.

His younger brother materialized from the shadows, clad in a leather jacket, blonde curls tousled like he'd just rolled out of bed. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight, playful and cruel.

"She wouldn't last another night with me," Liam said. "She'd already be dead."

Lucas didn't answer.

Liam stepped closer, circling him like a predator sniffing the edge of a hunt. "You're getting soft. What's the hold-up?"

"I'm waiting for the right moment," Lucas said, his voice clipped.

Liam chuckled. "That's your problem, Luke. You think too much. The council wants them dead. You know what she is. You can smell it. Like sun-warmed skin and iron. It's intoxicating."

Lucas moved so fast Liam didn't see the strike coming.

He grabbed his brother by the throat, slamming him against the lamppost.

"Touch her, and I will end you," Lucas growled, fangs flashing.

Liam's eyes flared, and his own fangs bared. But he didn't fight back. Not this time.

"Fine," Liam said, voice gravelly. "I'll let you play protector. But you know how this ends. The council doesn't forgive sentiment."

Lucas loosened his grip. Liam staggered, rubbing his neck with a smirk.

"I'll be watching, brother," he said. "Let's see how long you can pretend you're not falling for her." The brothers walked toward their car, the silence between them buzzing with unspoken tension.