Chapter 5: Night Allure

Neon lights flickered on both sides of the street. I stared blankly at the large hand holding mine. His hand was just like Gareth’s—beautiful and slender—but while Gareth’s hands were always warm, his were as ice-cold as my own.

I bumped right into his back and looked up dazed, only to find he had stopped.

"We’re here," he said, looking back at me with a grin.

I turned to look. It was a bar, no different from any other in this city. Amidst the flashing neon, two seductive words were traced out: Night Allure.

Alastor pulled me inside.

"The descent of night, a boiling rhythm, haunting a thousand years of solitude... A feast of blood, the demon’s light, reveling in this city..." The lighting was dim and filled with enchantment, and the air was thick with swirling smoke. I widened my eyes in curiosity, looking toward the figure playing guitar on a swivel chair upon the bar’s high stage. The lights didn't hit him directly, making his features hard to discern. He was singing to his own accompaniment, his voice husky and strange, yet every word reached the ear clearly.

"I’m sorry, minors aren't allowed in." A waiter in white holding a tray stepped forward to block us, politely pointing to the sign standing by the door.

Alastor followed his hand to look at the sign, then burst out laughing. His beautiful eyes crinkled into slits as he stared at me mischievously.

A minor? Instinctively following Alastor’s gaze, I looked down at my own figure and felt a surge of fury. Do I really look like a minor?!

Alastor let out a soft chuckle. With a gentle hook of his long arm, he pulled me into his embrace. "She’s of age," he said suggestively, his cold lips pressing close to my neck.

"Identification?" the waiter asked without missing a beat.

I immediately wilted. As mentioned before, I was a person without even a birth certificate.

"Ah!" Alastor suddenly waved exaggeratedly at the figure on the high stage across the room.

My mouth fell open slightly. I looked at Alastor’s shameless behavior with disbelief. I thought he would at least use hypnosis or something; hadn't he bragged about his high rank? Are all six-hundred-year-old vampires like this?

What a disillusionment...

"My friend! My friend is right over there..." Completely ignoring the fact that my jaw was practically on the floor, Alastor pulled me along, looking excited as he tried to push his way in.

"You mean Master Malachi?" The waiter’s expression turned strange, followed by a look of adoration toward the figure on the stage.

"A thousand years of time, not a moment of longing passed, love never strayed far..." That voice continued to chant, as if possessed by some strange magic.

"Malachi! Malachi! It’s me, Alastor!" Alastor waved even more dramatically.

The figure stiffened slightly, and the singing stopped abruptly. Then, with a slight movement, the figure stepped out from the shadows.

Wearing a dark red trench coat with a high collar, a bewitching man stepped down from the stage. He had pale cheeks, slightly wavy wine-red hair, narrow eyes, and full lips. He was draped in an aura of enchantment.

He waved a hand, and the waiter from before walked away with an entranced expression.

I froze. Wasn't he the man who had performed the divination for me that day at The Velvet Truffle?

"Malachi, you’re still alive!" Alastor lunged forward excitedly to hug him. "It’s been four hundred years... I thought you’d died four centuries ago."

Four hundred years?

He was a vampire too?

I looked at him in disbelief.

Malachi pulled him off without a change in expression. His beautiful eyes drifted over to me. "When did you change your taste?"

Alastor laughed joyfully. Ignoring my protests, he pulled me into his arms. "I created her."

"You?" Malachi arched an eyebrow. "I recall you saying four hundred years ago that you would never create another bloodline."

"I love her..." Alastor looked at me, his face full of devotion.

I turned to stone instantly. I looked up and glared at Alastor. "Don't talk nonsense!"

"It seems this lady has no feelings for our invincible great saint of love," Malachi chuckled, looking as exquisite and vivid as a blooming rose.

"Rory..." Alastor gently stroked my cheek, calling my name softly. His handsome, pale face was filled with suppressed sorrow. "Please don't hate me. I know you long for the light, but I love you... I love you... Please forgive me for dragging you into eternal darkness with me. Because... I couldn't bear to watch you grow old day by day. I couldn't endure the thought of you leaving me one day. I don't want to suffer that boundless solitude alone ever again... I... love you. So even if you hate me... even if you do, I will keep you by my side. Forever..."

My eyes widened in disbelief as I stared into his blue eyes. What was he doing? Acting? It was a truly masterful performance.

A vampire falls in love with a human; to love her, he risks everything—even her hatred—to turn her into his own kind so they can have eternal life together... What a touching story.

However, my lip began to twitch. I had been bitten under completely absurd circumstances for no reason at all...

"Then congratulations on finally being able to be together," Malachi said with a seductive smile, taking a glass of blood-red liquid from a passing waiter.

"Thank you." Alastor looked deeply moved, opening his arms wide to give him another grateful embrace.

Malachi smiled and moved aside inconspicuously, letting Alastor fall into empty air.

Alastor looked at Malachi with a pained expression. "We haven't seen each other for over four hundred years, and you’ve become so cold..."

"It’s good to see you," Malachi said, lifting the transparent goblet to his lips and taking a light sip. Then he looked at me, still in my state of shock, and reached out a hand. "Hello, I’m Malachi."

"Hello, I’m Aurora Vance." I snapped out of it and shook Malachi’s equally ice-cold hand.

I realized... he didn't remember me at all.

Or was he pretending not to remember?

"Would you like a glass?" he asked, swirling the goblet in his hand.

Watching the red liquid sway, I subconsciously licked my lips. I had been hungry for three days.

"It’s wine." As if seeing through my thoughts, Malachi laughed. "I mixed it myself. It’s called 'Burning Fire.' Want to try?"

I nodded and took a glass of the same liquid. I followed Malachi to sit at the bar.

After taking a sip, I froze. It felt as if a fire was burning in my chest—a searing, painful sensation.

"Does it feel hot?" Malachi squinted at a group of curvaceous women not far away. Alastor, who had just been professing his undying love for me, was now surrounded by them like a star among moons, smiling with an entranced expression.

"Yes... it burns so much it hurts." I reached up and clutched my chest.

"Yes, it hurts," Malachi’s voice sounded distant.

"Can I have another glass?"

Malachi turned back and looked at me with narrowed eyes. His long lashes seemed hazy in the dim light. Then he burst into laughter—a smile so radiant it was hard to look at. "Of course you can."

I lowered my head and gripped the goblet, drinking quietly.

This was the first time I had ever had alcohol. It was very strong. But it gave me a very special feeling.

"Few who try it ever order a second," Malachi said flatly after a long silence.

"I really like this feeling," I said, looking up at the bewitching man. "The feeling of the heart burning with pain."

Malachi stiffened slightly. He looked at me, yet seemed to be looking through me at someone else. After a moment, he suddenly leaned forward, placing his hands on my face. A look of joy gradually seeped into his beautiful eyes. "What did you just say? Say it again, please?"

Looking at the seductive man before me, I shrank back, trying to escape his hands, but I couldn't.

"Malachi, don't bully my Rory," Alastor said, appearing out of nowhere from the crowd of women. With a gentle pull, he moved me away from Malachi’s hands, then turned to smile at me. "Don't be afraid. I’ll protect you."

I arched an eyebrow, looking with a strange expression at the red lipstick mark on the neck of this "devoted" vampire.

"My apologies. A long time ago, someone said the exact same words. I’ve been waiting for him for a very long time," Malachi said softly, ignoring Alastor. His expression was unreadable.

"Stop acting. You’re still playing the melancholy part? You actually..." Alastor looked like he couldn't accept it. "You actually want to steal my Rory! You’re the most devious one," Alastor said, turning back to me with an exaggerated look. "Rory, don't be fooled. This guy likes men..."

Malachi pressed his lips together and smiled.