That night at the club turned out to be just the beginning.
Over the next few weeks, Antoinette began showing up at Lexi’s New York apartment with noticeable frequency.
She always had a polished excuse ready—a rare vintage bottle of blood-infused wine she had acquired, an intriguing piece of supernatural news passing through the city, or simply claiming she happened to be in the neighborhood and preferred Lexi’s company to the rest of the city’s vampires.
As it turned out, Antoinette didn’t actually buy into the rigid, superior Purist doctrine her family clung to.
Her family had raised her under the strict belief that vampires belonged exclusively to the shadows as apex predators, viewing daylight rings and mortal integration as pathetic compromises.
But Antoinette had grown weary of their archaic zealotry.
She enjoyed the finer things in life, valued her independence, and found the Purists’ obsession with bloodline supremacy stifling and narrow-minded.
Still, Lexi wasn’t fooled by the casual drop-ins.
Leaning against the kitchen island with a glass of bourbon in hand, Lexi would quietly observe the way Antoinette’s dark brown eyes subtly tracked Aleksander whenever he walked through the room.
Whenever he lounged on the sofa reviewing ancient grimoires, or when his sleeves were rolled up revealing the defined lines of his forearms, Antoinette’s gaze lingered just a second too long, full of quiet, appraising hunger.
Lexi didn’t feel threatened; she found the whole thing thoroughly entertaining.
Centuries of survival had cured Lexi of petty jealousy, and watching an aloof, poised vampire slowly get flustered by Aleksander’s effortless charm was top-tier amusement.
One evening, while Aleksander had stepped out onto the balcony, Lexi sauntered over to the armchair where Antoinette was nursing a drink, a wicked, knowing smirk curving her lips.
“You know,” Lexi purred, resting a hand on her hip and tilting her head, “if you keep staring at him like that, you might actually burn a hole straight through his shirt.”
Antoinette froze mid-sip.
Her composure broke for just a split second, a rare, faint blush of warmth touching her porcelain cheeks before she smoothly recovered, setting her crystal glass down with practiced elegance.
“I have no idea what you’re implying,” Antoinette replied, though the faint twitch of her lips and the sudden gleam in her eyes betrayed her completely.
“I merely appreciate… powerful art.”
“Right. Art,” Lexi laughed softly, winking at her as she topped off Antoinette’s glass.
“Just admit it, Antoinette—you’re completely hooked.”
A soft flutter of wings brushed against the cool evening air outside the balcony doors.
A small, intricate origami bird folded from cream-colored parchment glided smoothly through the open glass, riding a faint thermal draft into the living room.
It circled the low coffee table once before fluttering down right into Aleksander’s waiting palm.
The moment his skin made contact with the paper, the delicate magic unraveled, and the bird unfolded itself into a neat, handwritten letter bearing Lucy Bennett’s unmistakable signature.
Aleksander leaned against the doorframe, his dark eyes scanning the lines of tight, hurried cursive.
Lexi, leaning back on the plush sofa with her legs crossed, noticed the shift in his expression—the easygoing warmth fading into sharp, focused calculation.
“Another job?” Lexi asked, swirling the amber liquid in her glass.
Aleksander nodded slowly, his eyes still fixed on the parchment. New chapters come out on g.com first.
“You could say that.”
Antoinette, perched elegantly on the opposite armchair, raised a sculpted dark brow, her curiosity clearly piqued.
“Job? What kind of work does a warlock of your caliber take on?”
Lexi offered an easy, knowing smirk over the rim of her tumbler.
“Just something Aleksander does.”
Aleksander folded the letter back into a crisp rectangle, his jaw set.
“A werewolf pack down in the Appalachian backwoods is getting picked apart. Not by territorial vampires or rogue witches—poachers. Armed squads equipped with heavy-grade wolfsbane darts, reinforced tranquilizers, and specialized transport vans. Someone with deep pockets and private military backing is quietly harvesting cursed wolves right out of their territory.”
Antoinette’s eyes narrowed, genuine surprise crossing her poised features.
“Poachers capturing wolves alive? In human form, they’re already stronger than mortal men, and a full moon turns them into lethal apex beasts whose bite can rot a vampire from the inside out. Hunting them usually leaves a trail of shredded bodies, not captive crates.”
“Which means whoever is signing the checks isn’t looking to kill pests,” Aleksander replied, a cold, dangerous glint surfacing in his eyes as a subtle hum of earth magic rippled through the floorboards.
“They’re gathering bloodlines. Looking for venom, biological weapons, or guinea pigs for some sick experiment.”
With a casual wave of his hand, the air around Aleksander warped.
A sudden, sharp crack and a flash of white light echoed through the room, and in the next second, the space where he had been standing was completely empty.
Antoinette froze, her crystal glass pausing halfway to her lips.
Her dark brown eyes went wide with genuine, unmasked shock.
As composed and poised as she usually kept herself, this broke every rule of magic she had ever seen.
“Did he just… teleport?” Antoinette asked, staring at the empty rug in disbelief.
“No ritual circle? No chanting? Just vanished into thin air?”
Lexi leaned back comfortably into the cushions, letting out an amused chuckle as she swirled her bourbon.
“He can do so much more than that, trust me. You haven’t even scratched the surface of what Aleksander can do.”
Antoinette slowly set her glass down on the table, her mind racing.
A witch who didn’t rely on dead ancestors, summoned blue fire with a thought, and folded space on a whim was completely unheard of.
Before she could dwell on it any longer, Lexi shifted on the sofa.
Her relaxed posture stayed the same, but her hazel eyes sharpened with direct, unblinking focus as she locked onto Antoinette.
“So,” Lexi said, her voice dropping into a candid, no-nonsense tone.
“Are you really interested in him? And I mean for real. Not some passing curiosity, not a quick thrill, and definitely not some small-time thing because you’re bored.”
The sudden bluntness caught Antoinette completely off guard.
“I—well, it’s not…” Antoinette stammered, parting her lips only to close them again.
Her fingers shifted nervously in her lap, a rare, uncharacteristic flush coloring her cheeks.
“I mean, he is… obviously remarkable. But I hadn’t quite categorized—that is to say, it isn’t just—”
She trailed off into an exasperated, breathless sigh, completely unable to come up with a polished answer under Lexi’s sharp, knowing gaze.
Lexi watched Antoinette’s composure crumble, a small, reassuring smile softening her face.
She set her tumbler down on the low table and leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees to close the emotional distance between them.
“Take a breath, Antoinette,” Lexi said, her voice gentle but firm.
“I’m not sitting here getting ready to stake you over jealousy. I don’t operate like that, and Aleksander certainly isn’t an ordinary man tied down by ordinary boundaries. If you’re drawn to him, I don’t have an issue with it. Not at all.”
Antoinette looked up, her dark eyes still guarded, searching Lexi’s face for any hidden trap or bitterness.
Finding none, she swallowed quietly.
“Then why interrogate me?” Antoinette asked, her voice regaining a fraction of its velvet smoothness, though the tension in her shoulders remained.
“Because I care about him,” Lexi replied without hesitation, holding her gaze steadily.
“He carries the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. He doesn’t need games, he doesn’t need someone hanging around just because they’re dazzled by his power, and he definitely doesn’t need to be some fleeting distraction to cure your boredom with the Purists.”
Lexi tilted her head, her expression dead serious.
“If this is just an itch you want to scratch, or a little thrill to spite your family’s stuffy rules, walk away now,” Lexi continued.
“But if you actually want something real with him—loyalty, genuine affection, an actual place by his side—then you need to stop hiding behind your polite society masks and own it. So tell me. What is it you actually want from Aleksander?”
Antoinette went quiet.
The room fell into a heavy, still silence, broken only by the faint hum of the city streets far below the balcony.
The evasive excuses died in her throat.
She looked down at her hands, then back at Lexi, the prideful mask finally dropping completely.
“At first, it was just curiosity,” Antoinette admitted softly, her tone stripped of all pretense.
“He didn’t look down on me. He wasn’t terrified, and he didn’t preach. But the more I see him… the way he commands the world without an ounce of petty malice, the way he looks at you…”
She took a slow, steady breath, lifting her chin with quiet conviction.
“I have spent nearly a century running from zealots, keeping my heart guarded, pretending I wanted nothing more than vintage wine and quiet nights alone,” Antoinette said, her dark eyes steady and clear.
“I don’t want a brief distraction, Lexi. I want him. For real.”