“No offense, but vampires? XXNX “Welcome, Miss Grayson,” the woman purred, voice smooth as silk, a faint accent curling the edges. She yanked her hand back, muttering, “Thanks,” and followed, skepticism warring with a grudging admiration for the commitment. “Telekinesis, mind control—a taste of what you mock.” She snapped her fingers—crack—and Lena’s clothes vanished, shirt and jeans dissolving into black mist, leaving her naked, Chelsea boots thudding to the floor. The house was a hive of oddity—young men, all chiseled and silent, darted about in tight latex maid outfits, black and shiny, dusting shelves, polishing silver. She stepped out, gravel crunching under her Chelsea boots—black, scuffed, practical—her grey jeans and loose button-up shirt screaming I don’t care, though they hugged her slim frame just enough to hint at curves she rarely flaunted. “Stop—whatever this is—” she choked, but Seraphina’s nail twitched, and the rubbing intensified, her
