The alley was far too narrow and dark for my taste. It was the kind of place that was probably crawling with cockroaches and Les Griffes. Or, were there Griffes outside of France? Maybe American vampires were different in some way? A shiver ran down my spine as I stepped over a pile of black trash bags, my thoughts drifting.

The note with the address was clear, and I was on the right track, but of course, you didn't do blood deals in a bar at a luxury hotel. Such things always happened in dingy, filthy places. Disgusting considering it was about something you put in your mouth. 

 My life was filled with contrasts; among people, I hung out at celebrity parties with more champagne than I could drink in a lifetime. But here on the streets, I wasn't worth more than a cockroach. Or was it the same among the people? They didn't show their disdain openly, unlike Chip and Dale at the grocery store. It wasn't every day you got sniffed at in a doorway, I thought with a suppressed laugh. 

 One moment I loved this place; it was new and exciting. At the same time, I felt so damn lonely. It was clear that I should stay in the shadows. But fuck that; I wasn't going to hide. It was about time I lived the life I had always dreamed of. 

 As I approached the end of the alley, I spotted a shady figure outside some makeshift door. A typical vampire hangout. I filled my lungs with air and straightened my back; it was time to play tough, I thought, and put a cigarette in my mouth. 

 "Are you new in town?" asked the guy with ice-blue eyes who peeked out from under the dark hood and scrutinized me closely. The vampire looked like some sort of guard but seemed pretty fed up with life in general. 

 "Apparently," I replied with a shrug. 

 "Hungry?" 

 I gave the vampire a pointed look. "No, I'm here for the fantastic fucking view and the stench of garbage!" I snapped irritably, taking a long drag. 

 "Cool," he grinned and nodded toward the door. "Hope you have cash; otherwise, you might as well turn around." 

 "I'm not an idiot," I sighed wearily and stepped past him over the threshold and into the darkness. 

 If the stench of garbage had made me nauseous in the alley, the smell from inside was a notch worse. In France, Anthony had his own centers with more or less willing people selling their blood. The question was whether they did the same here or if they stole from the blood bank at hospitals. The price would probably give me the answer to that question. But what the hell were my options? If I wanted to be strong and fend for myself, I needed to drink. In moderate amounts.

 Anthony's words still echoed far back in my mind: "We're not barbarians, Belmont; we don't drink from humans." 

 My brain recalled the memory of the night when the girl had offered her wrist; it was, of course, an option. In a way, it felt better, but if I was going to continue with that, I needed to work more, and right now my pretend life among the humans felt like a lie I didn't have the energy to maintain.

 The room I stepped into was dark and dim. Three male vampires and a girl were slumped over a table, high on their latest fix. I stubbed out my cigarette on the floor and immediately lit a new one; the smoke made the stench a bit more bearable as I passed the cheerful quartet and made my way into the next room. Was it at places like this that Clock had worked? Probably not; he had a higher status than that. I was no stranger to this kind of place though; my teenage years with Gaston had taken me to worse hideouts. The difference was marginal. 

 "How much do you want?" The voice came from behind me, and I turned slowly, despite my pulse racing. 

 The vampire stepping out of the shadows had a bare torso covered in tattoos and a sharp smile, but he was as far from intimidating as you could get. He was probably turned in his thirties. He carried a certain weight that only a hundred-year-old could possess, but it was evident he had drunk one too many bags in his day. Instead of staying strong, he was a slave to his addiction.  

"How much do you have?" I replied sounding bored and shrugging my shoulders.

"You're new here," he stated with a smug smile, and I responded with a brief nod. 

 "Is that a problem?" I asked when he didn't say anything else, meeting his curious gaze with the facade Gaston had taught me. 

 "Of course not; it all depends on how much money you have."

 I nodded again, leaning my shoulder against a stack of boxes and spinning the cigarette between my fingers. "I want it pure." 

 "A hundred for five," he said tersely as he turned around and opened the door to a large cold room. "You'll get two extra for your friends." 

Fuck, was he trying to recruit me? Irritation grew; I was a hell of a lot better than that. What did this idiot think I was? "Do I look like a dealer to you?" I snapped, shoving a wad of cash into his waistband before I snatched the crumpled grocery bag from his hand and headed for the door. 

 "I'll be here if you change your mind." 

 "I think not," I muttered, leaving the grinning idiot behind. He had no idea who I had been once.

The craving grew stronger with each step I took, and even though I'd repeated the mantra "wait a little longer" a dozen times, I was already trembling when I left the shabby streets and stepped into a larger main road. 

I bit down hard on my lower lip, and my fingers gripped the bag desperately. Not out on an open street, Bel, I told myself as I almost ran home. I barely managed to close the gate to the apartment building behind me before I pulled out a blood-filled bag and sank my teeth into it with wild eyes and quick breaths. 

The liquid spilled out through the small holes, filling my mouth before I gulped it down in just a few seconds. With my back pressed against the door and my chest heaving, I sank down onto the cold stone floor and closed my eyes. The whole world spun around me, but it felt damn good. 

 "Bad timing?" 

Fuck. I snapped my eyes open in panic and was met with Conor's calm presence as he sat almost opposite me on the fourth step. He rested his forearms on his knees, waiting for a reaction. 

How the hell did I miss him? He must have been sitting there the whole damn time. I shrugged and pulled my knees up to my chin. "Depends." 

 His eyes rested on me for a moment before they slid down to the bag lying empty on the floor. "Is my jacket at your place?" 

 I nodded once and gathered my things before standing up to walk past him. As I stepped onto his level, he stood up, and I felt his grip on my wrist, so I stopped, my gaze fixed on the floor. 

 "I called first, but you didn't answer." 

 I bit my lip as I nodded; even though he seemed chill with everything, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed as fuck. "I was... busy," I mumbled. 

 He kept his hand there, and surprised me as his thumb caressed the inside of my arm before he pulled me a little closer. "Are you okay?"

 Hesitating, I looked up into his questioning eyes and put on a smile. "I wish you hadn't seen my worst sides just yet." 

 "I've worse, Princess." 

 "I'm sure you have," I replied with a shrug. "But maybe I want to be different?" 

 "You are what you are; why complicate things?" 

 At that moment, I felt the facade crumble, and my head felt as empty as the blood bag. I couldn't find any quick responses or excuses. Instead, I just stood there staring at him for a while. Could life be that simple? 

"I guess that's what life has taught me," I laughed dryly and started walking up the stairs while digging for my keys in my jeans pocket. 

 "New city, new life, Snow White." 

 I smiled to myself as I unlocked the door and headed into the kitchen to put the other bags in the fridge. "Are you staying a while?" 

 He nodded, his curls bouncing as he walked over to the jacket hanging over the kitchen chair and rummaged through the pockets. I glanced at him as he pulled out a handful of items and went through them. 

 "The guy from the roof is still around," he said before sliding various scraps of paper and unrecognizable things into his back pocket. 

My heart leaped straight up my throat as I watched him take a seat. "Are you sure? I haven't seen him," I mumble nervously, chewing on my lower lip. 

 "I'm sure." 

 With a sigh, I ran my hand through my hair and step in between his legs, my fingers moving from my straight strands to his thick curls. "I don't know why he's here," I started, "but you can relax; you won't get involved." 

 He grabbed a loop on my black jeans and pulled me a little closer while raising an eyebrow and smiling crookedly. "If you're involved, then so am I, Princess; that's how it usually goes down."

 "You don't have to," I insisted, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. 

 "If you want me to back off, just say so. But otherwise, it's my own choice, and it's nothing you need to worry about." 

 With a smile on my lips, I straddled his thigh and tilted my head. "Thanks, but hopefully, he'll be gone in a few days, preferably by tomorrow." 

 "So your tactic is to hide, ignore, and push the problem away?"

 "No. My tactic is to move on and fill my mind with other things," I smirked and pressed my lips against his.