My Vampire Roomate

A Simple Trade

The car’s sudden jolt yanked me from a groggy haze, my head lifting as I blinked against the morning light. My jaw dropped at the sight before me—a sprawling villa, all marble statues and gushing fountains, screaming old money. The only flaw was the overgrown bushes, clawing at the edges of perfection. Sebastian’s wealth was no secret, but this? This was next-level opulence.

He stepped out, opened my door, and scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing. His warmth enveloped me, lulling my exhausted body toward sleep again. In a guest room, he laid me on a plush bed, his lips brushing my forehead before tucking me under a heavy blanket. As he turned to leave, my sleepy voice stopped him. “Are you going to start feeding again?”

He paused, glancing back, his stormy eyes unreadable. “I’ll do what I have to do to protect you,” he said, voice low, before shutting the door with a soft click.

Hours later, I woke, the horrors of last night clawing at my mind. The carnival. The man’s gurgling gasp as my knife sank into his throat. I could still feel the blood, warm and sticky, coating my hands. What if I hadn’t had Sebastian’s knife? Would I be dead instead? I didn’t regret it, he deserved it, but the reality hit hard. I’d killed someone. What if the cops found my DNA? Self-defense wouldn’t explain the knife, the wolfsbane, the chaos. My pulse raced, spiraling—

Knock! Knock!

“Come in,” I called, voice shaky.

Franklin stepped inside, balancing a tray piled high with food—burgers, fries, pastries, enough to feed a small army. My stomach growled, panic giving way to ravenous hunger. “I figured you’d be starving,” he said, setting the tray on a stool with a grin.

“Thank you,” I said, practically inhaling a burger. “I’m dying here. Where’s Sebastian?”

“He stepped out to grab a few things. He’ll be back soon.” Franklin’s thumb brushed a smear of sauce from my lip, the scent of his perfume filling up my nose subtly.

a brief awkward silence filled the room and I struggled making eye contact with him, Franklin was very attractive, he had all the physical features of a masculine man, broad shoulders that complimented his muscular arms, well defined jawline with the right amount of facial hair but that scent—it was his strongest weapon, I’d known it was him at the door before he even spoke.

“What was last night all about?” I asked, breaking the tension. His face darkened, guilt flickering in his green eyes.

“A mess,” he admitted, sinking onto the bed beside me. “I lost track of time. The full moon... it’s no excuse.” He hesitated, then added, “I heard what happened.”

My throat tightened. “It was so fast. He—he tried to—” My voice cracked. “I was terrified, and then I—”

Franklin pulled me into his arms, cutting me off. “It’s okay,” he murmured as I sobbed into his chest. “That bastard got what he deserved.” His warmth steadied me, but the weight of everything, from being almost murdered by Eric to commiting murder myself, my life had taken a turn for the worse.

Then it hit me. Franklin wasn’t innocent in this. His werewolf rampage drove me to that carnival, to that room, to that man’s death. The food, the comfort—it was a distraction. I shoved away, wiping my tears. “This is your fault,” I snapped, standing. “You have to fix it. I don’t want to go to prison.”

He rose, stepping close, his scent flooding my senses again. One hand rested on my shoulder, he definitely knew what he was doing. “You’re not going to prison,” he said firmly. “Sebastian’s handling it.”

“What?” I blinked, confused.

“Vampire perks,” he explained, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Compulsion. Sebastian’s making sure the forensic team ‘forgets’ any evidence, so you’re in the clear. With a vampire on your side, going to jail is damn near impossible.”

Relief washed over me, but unease lingered. I’d been compelled before—why hadn’t I thought of this? I nodded, clutching my necklace to ground myself. Franklin pulled me into another hug, and I let my head rest against his chest, his heartbeat steadying mine. But a nagging guilt crept in. This felt too close, too intimate. He was Rose’s boyfriend.

“Have you talked to Rose?” I asked, pulling back.

His face fell. “No. Can’t reach her.”

My stomach twisted. Rose never ignored her phone. “Try her again,” I urged.

Before he could, the house phone shattered the silence.

Ring! Ring!

My heart stopped. I forced myself to pick it up. “Hello? Who’s this?”

Scuffles crackled through the line, then a voice slithered out. “Hello, princess.”

Eric. My blood turned to ice. I could picture his cruel grin, those piercing eyes. “Who’s this?” I asked, faking ignorance.

“So you’re alive,” he drawled. “Guess my big brother’s got a soft spot for you after all.”

“What do you want?” I forced my voice steady.

He paced—I heard his boots clicking on a hard floor, each step spiking my dread. “A simple trade.”

My brows knit. “What do you mean?”

“You for your best friend.”

My heart plummeted. Rose. “Don’t you dare touch her, you sick bastard!” I shouted, rage overtaking fear.

“Harm who?” Franklin demanded, eyes flashing with alarm.

“He has Rose,” I whispered, dread pooling in my gut.

Franklin snatched the phone. “Listen, you pest—if you touch one hair on her head, I’ll rip you apart so bad Satan won’t recognize you in hell.”

Eric’s laugh boomed, chillingly amused. “When it’s time to play fetch, I’ll call you, doggy. For now, shut up and let Emma come to me. Or Rose suffers a slow, agonizing death, courtesy of your foolishness.”

I grabbed the phone back. “Don’t hurt her,” I pleaded. “I’ll come.”

Franklin’s head shook furiously, but Eric’s voice cut through. “Good girl. I’ll call with the time and place. Come alone.” The line went dead.

I met Franklin’s furious gaze, his jaw clenched tight. “Should we tell Sebastian?” I asked.

“Tell me what?” Sebastian’s voice sliced through the room as he stepped inside, his gaze locking unto to us.