I pace my living room for another hour, waiting, when finally the doorbell rings. I wasn't sure if the vampire would actually knock or just magically appear as he's wont to do.

I open the door and Asher is standing there, smiling, looking like he just stepped out of a GQ magazine. "Let's go to hell, shall we?"

***

I'm not ready. Not at all. But he leads me to a limousine parked in front of my apartment, and I freeze. "Can't we... I don't know... walk?"

He frowns, staring at me. "Walk? You think we can walk to where we are going?"

"Well, I don't think we can get there via limousine either," I say. "So you must be taking me someplace... human... where we will then use whatever black magic you wield to enter your world. So can't we walk to your human place at least?"

"No. Get in."

I sigh and slide in, clutching my bag to my lap as I sit awkwardly in the plush leather seats. I've never been in a limo before, but Asher looks like this is something he's quite used to.

He offers me a glass of champagne as the driver pulls out of the parking spot, but I shake my head. "I'm good, thanks."

"You look terrified. How is it that when I expose you to the monsters of nightmares, you respond with sass, but when I put you in a vehicle, you tremble with fear?" It only takes a moment for the proverbial lightbulb to go off in his head. "I see. The accident. You are still traumatized. Pity. You're much too fierce and clever to live under the weight of that one moment your whole life. You really should move on."

I snort. "Sure thing, Prince. I'll get right on that."

He scowls at me and we don't talk again for the rest of the drive. It takes us about twenty minutes to pull onto a large property full of tall trees that block out the sky. When we pull up to an elaborate gate designed into a beautiful tree with roots, the driver rolls down his window to enter a code into the security system. The gate opens, splitting the tree in half as it does, and we drive through. It's then that I see the house... or rather, mansion. "I didn't think we had anything like this in Oregon," I say.

"No one knows it's here, and we like to keep it that way. This is our home when we are in the mortal realm for business. It will be your home when you come here, under guard of course, for your monthly visits. You are never to bring anyone here. No one must know about it."

"You guys must be the life of the party," I mutter.

He ignores me as we pull up to the front door.

"Will I be meeting all of you now?" I'm nervous at the prospect of being in the same room with seven demonic vampires, one of whom I'm supposed to choose as a mate. I think that's a reasonable fear, at this point.

"No, the rest are busy at the moment. I'll take you to our world and bring you to High Castle."

A castle? "What's it like? Hell?"

"You'll see soon enough."

I'm still clutching my bag tightly when we enter the mansion and he gives me a ridiculously fast tour. I try to keep track of it all in my head. Tall ceilings, beautifully polished furniture, tapestries and paintings hanging from the walls, a huge stone fireplace in the living quarters with deep couches and chairs in red and gold fabric. Wall sized television in another room with surround-sound speakers. The kitchen is a dream, stocked with everything a gourmet cook would need to make a masterpiece. "Do vampires eat?"

"We do," he says. "The living on blood alone is a myth. We need blood, but we need food too."

At least, once I'm turned, I won't have to give up food. That's good news.

"What about the sun?"

"We cannot be in the human sun. It burns us. But our world has its own sun that does us no harm."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why any of it? The blood. The sun. Why would our world be so inhospitable to you at the same time as it is so necessary for your survival."

"Curses aren't meant to be pleasant," he says, snickering.

"Who cursed you?"

"Our uncle, of course. Really, it's like you know nothing." I try to argue, but he continues. "Come on now. We have to hurry." He walks me through the halls and shows me door after door, explaining which prince they belong to. He stops in front of the last door in the hall. "This is your room."

I open it and see a four-poster canopy bed with cream and gold bedding. A fire roars opposite the window, and a small couch, chair and table are set to one side. An armoire and dresser with a vanity are set on the other.

"You have your own private washroom," he says, pointing to a door by the dresser. "I'll leave you to freshen up and then we venture forth. I've taken the liberty of providing suitable clothing for you. Please use them."

I look down at my jeans and t-shirt. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"You are being presented to our people as the future Princess, and Queen. You cannot arrive looking as you do."

When he leaves, I drop my bag on the floor and look through the dresser and armoire. It is filled with silks and satins and shoes I'm not sure I could walk in. There's a knock at the door, and before I can answer an older woman enters. She's dressed in a long black dress that is entirely functional. Her hair is greying and pulled into a tight bun. "My name is Mrs. Landon, and I've been sent to help you dress," she says in a British accent.

"I'm quite sure I can dress on my own, but thank you."