Fanged at First Sight: The Chosen Witch, #0

By Cali Mann and Mia Harlan

I've been raised to hate vampires, but he saved my life. 

 

I've done a lot of stupid things in my life, but sneaking into a vampire nightclub is definitely at the top of my list. Somehow I survive it—only to get taken out by the bloodsuckers in the alley outside. 

 

But then a too-hot-to-handle vampire saves my life the only way he knows how—by turning me into a monster like him, even when I beg him to just let me die. Now I'm trapped in a world of night and blood that I can never leave. My family will never accept me . . . or him. 

 

Except this life isn't what I expected. Food is richer. Clothes are sexier. And I'm starting to fall for the friendly neighborhood bartending vampire who saved me. As he introduces me to my new life, I realize that I have it all wrong. Maybe it isn't bad luck. Maybe it's fate.

 

If you love short fun paranormal romance, grab this steamy short story from Mia Harlan and Cali Mann.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Thornfire Publishing Co
• Release date: Jul 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223029021

Book preview

Chapter 1

Esme

Iclose the office door behind me and press my hand to my pounding heart. I made it!

I didn’t think I would, but I’m here. And I’m safe. For now.

The club isn’t open yet, and it is just me and the staff and the vamps. Nothing like sneaking past a few bloodsucking monsters to get the blood pumping.

The office is smaller than I expected, or maybe it just seems that way because a monstrously sized mahogany desk takes up most of it. There are a couple of framed notices on the wall, liquor licenses and such, but no personal touches. Vamps don’t photograph at all, but you’d think there’d be a painting or something.

I shake myself. Stop wasting time, Esme!

Hurrying around the desk, I crouch down behind it and pull over the slim laptop. I open it up and the Crescendo logo is front and center: a fragile rose alongside the name, underlined in neon red. Obvious, much? I click the mouse and the desktop opens. No password? My brow furrows. They must have assumed no one would ever be stupid enough to sneak in here. Not sure what that says about me . . .

I start clicking through the files quickly, eager to finish what I came here for and get the hell away from this place. Come on, blood donor records. They have to be here somewhere.

Who but a vamp would think of making a dance club a place where you can donate blood? I push my glasses up my nose. Regular folks think the owner is just an eccentric billionaire. Damn bloodsucker, I mutter after I open yet another useless file.

Yes? a smooth male voice asks. You rang?

I yelp, gaping at the vamp leaning casually over the desk. If I was going to get caught, couldn’t it have been the dangerously good-looking bartender with the ponytail? I’d almost not even mind being caught by him. Why did it have to be the terrifying club owner?

It’s not what it looks like, I mutter, more stupid than brave. But I’m desperate. I need this.

He pops out his fangs in warning, but his eyes dance merrily. It almost feels like he’s toying with me when he asks, Who are you, and what are you doing in my office?

Standing up slowly, I adopt a pleading expression and say, "I just need to see your blood donor records for a second. Please."

Well, since you asked so politely . . .

My eyes widen. Really?

He rolls his eyes. No, not really. Those records are private.

He smiles, still with his fangs showing. It’s a creepy look, made more terrifying by the fact that everyone calls him The Composer. Sounds like a serial killer, if you ask me.

I should try to run, but I stand my ground. It’s stupid. I know. But it’s not the stupidest thing I’ve ever done . . . which says a lot about the state of my life.

Last week, I was in this same club/blood bank, donating my own blood so I could try to sneak away with a server’s tablet. I was hoping to go through it in the bathroom, email myself the records, and then return it without anyone noticing. Brilliant plan, not so brilliant execution. I got caught with the thing half up my skirt and got my ass tossed onto the street with a warning.

Today, I snuck into the club’s office, hoping to do the same, but instead, I’m trapped inside and The Composer is blocking the exit. I shudder. Despite his handsome facade, he’s probably a killer like the rest of his kind.

I push up my glasses and try to look confident.

He smirks. You have no business being here. He looks like an elite