Claimed

1. The Vampire Queen

Chapter one

The Vampire Queen

Earlier That Day

The velvet curtain rose, triggering the audience in front of me to go silent.

There I stood, center stage as the Queen of Vampires—a regal, terrifying creature of the night brought to life by an unsuspecting, yet gorgeous human male.

My black silk costume shimmered with rubies. It was meant to appear like sparkling blood dripping all over me. The bodice was tight and adorned with lacework of sinister, black thorns. The flared skirt billowed around me, a swirl of rubies and silk.

Crimson ballet pointe shoes covered my feet, matching the blood-like detail of my costume. The ribbons winding up my ankles were deep scarlet.

The orchestra began playing my haunting theme song—low foreboding drums and violins violently screeching.

And although I’d heard it many times over and over when we rehearsed this ballet, the notes still delivered shivers down my spine.

Surely, the audience experienced the same terrifying sensation because they sat frozen in their seats with their eyes glued to the stage.

Every face held an expression of awe and terror.

Also on the stage and ten feet in front of me, that gorgeous, unsuspecting human male stared at me in horror, unsure of what he had done when he’d yanked the gold sword out of my tomb’s door and woken me up.

My director Melanique had done an excellent job when she cast this ballerino.

Vaslav was tall with beautifully defined muscles. His curly blond hair was swept back off his face to reveal piercing blue eyes that the stage lighting always captured in the most breathtaking ways.

It was no coincidence that the first five rows of the theater were always filled by women. Not one man sat in those seats, as if even married women told their husbands to not worry about going to this ballet for the season. Instead, they gathered all their female friends to join them in drooling over him.

Currently, Vaslav quaked before me, shirtless with those form-fitting white pants on that accentuated not only his sculpted thighs, but his very big bulge.

He held a sword in his right hand.

Staying in character, he took one nervous step back.

Hissing, I took a confident step forward.

One woman in the audience yelled out, “Don’t hurt him!”

Several people shushed her.

Slowly, I lifted my hands above my head, exposing the long silver claws on my fingertips.

The sound of dark trombones rushed in and drowned out the violins.

Vaslav raised his sword high.

The audience gasped.

That silver blade reflected the stage lights, casting long streaks of brilliance over the mesmerized faces watching him.

He moved towards me—graceful steps measured and precise—a dance of impending doom set to the eerie orchestration.

Every muscle in his toned body tightened as he prepared to strike. His intense gaze never left mine, and it was a silent vow that he would end my reign of terror, before I got a chance to start it.

The audience pulsed with shared suspense.

Surely this was the moment of truth.

Would he truly be able to end me—the powerful Vampire Queen?

But then, all too suddenly, the music rose to a crescendo and I moved. With a swift flick of my claws and a dramatic spring in my step, I launched myself into the air.

The clear wires tightened around my waist, lifting me so high that I soared above him.

He swung his sword at my feet, and it only met empty air.

I landed gracefully behind him.

A gasp echoed through the theater.

Vaslav’s shock was visible as he whirled around in astonishment.

His gaze met mine once again while the audience held their collective breath.

Waiting.

Watching how this deadly ballet would unfold.

I pirouetted around him fast over and over, placing him under my spell.

He parted his lips.

His grip eased on the hilt of the sword, and it clattered onto the wooden stage.

Time to end him.

My silken dress rustled the rubies as I spun around him and closed what remained of our distance.

So captured by my spell, he stumbled back and then fell to the floor.

See my power?

I lifted my top lip, exposed my fangs, and loomed over him.

The music swelled once more, as if matching the rhythm of our dangerously synchronized heartbeats.

My eyes locked onto Vaslav as he lay prone beneath me, the powerful allure of the Queen of Vampires reigning supreme.

You’re mine!

Every beat of the music was a drum in my ears, every note a pulse within my body, guiding me to my ultimate performance.

With deliberate slowness, I leaned in closer, feeling the heat radiate from his chest.

The stage lights dimmed to red and emitted an eerie glow over us.

My silken dress whispered as it moved, the rubies catching the light like droplets of fresh blood.

I knew without looking that every single person in the audience was completely enraptured, suspended between fear and even more, awe.

I raised my hands again.

The silver claws gleamed wickedly.

The violins screeched.

I knew what was coming next—the moment that would leave them gasping in their seats and debating with each other throughout intermission.

My fingers grazed his neck, the barest touch, but enough to make him shudder.

The orchestra dipped into a deep, resonant chord, creating a dark, foreboding atmosphere that filled the theater.

Vaslav’s eyes fluttered shut, his body yielding to the inevitable.

The time had come.

You’re going to be my little fuck slave.

Smirking, I moved with the grace of a predator, descending upon him with a flourish that was both elegant and terrifying.

My fangs, sharp and glistening, hovered just above his throat.

The audience was utterly silent.

The tension was at its peak.

And then, as I struck—placing my mouth on his neck—the magic happened.

A small, nearly invisible pouch hidden within my costume’s bodice burst, releasing a stream of vivid red liquid.

The fake blood—warm and thick—spurted from a concealed tube carefully attached to my lower lip, cascading over Vaslav’s neck in a gruesome display. It sprayed in a wide arc, splattering the stage and glistening under the lights.

A woman shrieked in the front row.

It took everything in me to not smile.

That was the reaction I had wanted.

To the audience, it looked as though I had truly pierced his skin, draining him of life.

Vaslav’s body twitched. His hands fell limp at his sides as he played his part to perfection. His breathing even slowed, mimicking the deathly stillness of a man drained of his life force.

More crimson liquid pooled beneath his head, spreading slowly across the stage like a dark, ominous shadow.

Frantic murmurs of disbelief rippled through the crowd.

Even more people shushed them.

That’s right, everybody. I’m a bad ass Vampire Queen killer!

I rose, standing victorious as I let out a low, guttural laugh that echoed throughout the space.

The music mirrored my triumph, more booming drums and deep, resonant strings announcing my dominance.

I was the Queen of Vampires, unstoppable and eternal, and they all believed it.

But then trumpets began to blare.

Oh no. What could it be?

I snapped my view to the right.

More male dancers appeared—my would-be assailants.

They charged toward me with swords. Their movements were precise, an expertly choreographed battle meant to end in my capture.

I have to get out of here!

Adrenaline rushed through me.

My body moved of its own volition, muscles contracting and releasing.

I raced away from them, and they chased me back and forth on the stage.

Left to right.

I was everywhere and nowhere at once. A flurry of spins, lunges and leaps took me across the stage. My pirouettes came as naturally as breathing, each spin a whispered secret between me and the night.

My character, the Vampire Queen, was both the hunter and the hunted, her story etched into every arched foot and extended arm. Anytime, the ballerinos got close to me, I was always one cascading spin ahead of them.

My fluid twirls were too fast, too sharp as I moved in circular sweeps.

They could not touch what they could not catch, and I reveled in the power it gave me.

You will never get me! I am the Vampire Queen!

This was my domain now. My battle ground and I would not go down without a fight.

The music thundered.

My heartbeats quickened.

The stage lights brightened.

Suddenly, a blood-soaked Vaslav rose from his feigned death.

More shrieks came from the audience, along with even more shushes.

His face contorted with rage. Vaslav was such a good actor as well as a ballerino that even I truly felt like he’d been reborn into a new vampire.

He snatched up his fallen sword and joined the other men in the chase. His moves were relentless and intense; an avenger seeking retribution for his momentary defeat.

Oh shit.

Sweat trickled down my forehead as I spun faster than ever.

My eyes met Vaslav's.

There was no turning back now.

And then right as he began to slash me with his sword and chop off my head, those wires tightened on my waist and I rose in the air, higher than humanly possible.

Gasp after gasp came from the audience.

In the air, I whipped my legs propelling my body into spins that blurred my view of the audience and stage into streaks of light and shadow.

I’m powerful!

I went dizzy from the fast turns.

Higher and higher I rose, turning the whole time, until the stage darkened, swallowing the last of the light and silencing the orchestra.

Until I was completely out of the audience’s sight.

Fuck. I’m exhausted.

There, I hung high above the stage in hidden darkness.

I wouldn’t be able to be brought back down until the curtain dropped.

Okay. It’s done. I’m safe.

I closed my eyes, steadied my breaths, and hung there in the darkened void above the stage

Thunderous applause soared up and washed over me.

They liked it. Thank God.

The cheers kept on.

It must have been a standing ovation.

We did it!

Exhilaration surged through me. It was all pride, joy, and pure satisfaction. The sound was almost deafening. Each roar of approval struck a chord deep within my soul.

Although my body was still, suspended in the air by the wires, my mind was racing with emotions.

For this brief moment, I was no longer the Queen of Vampires, the menacing creature that had captivated and terrified hundreds.

I was just me, Erica, a woman who had finally found her place in the world, a place that had been so elusive for so long.

I really fucking did it.

The darkness around me felt comforting, like an embrace, and my thoughts drifted back to my childhood when the world hadn’t made sense, when everything was a jumble of uncertainty and fear.

My mother’s face flashed before my eyes—her dark brown skin, that big curly afro, her soft smile, the way her hands always seemed to know how to soothe my every hurt, every worry.

She had been my everything, the one person who made me feel safe and loved unconditionally.

I was only seven when she died, but the memories of her warmth and love had lingered, guiding me through the darkest times in my life.

After she passed, there was no one left to anchor me.

I’d never known my real father—he was just a shadow, a ghost in the stories my mother had shared. He’d been a Black Creole man from New Orleans. My mom told me he left when she was pregnant, that he hadn’t wanted the responsibility of a child.

Even though I was so young, those words had stung, though I hadn’t fully understood their weight until much later.

Mom clearly didn’t have the best taste in men because when I turned three, she fell in love and married an Italian mob boss named, Maximo Giordano.

They called him, La Serpe Nera .

The Black Serpent.

I’d learned that he’d been orphaned at a young age and raised by his uncle, a notorious hitman, who taught him the deadly skills needed to survive their underworld. By eighteen, Maximo had avenged his parents' deaths, earning his nickname for his lethal precision and cold-blooded tactics. He quickly rose to power, consolidating control over Obsidian Bay’s criminal syndicates.

Maximo was ruthless.

Cold.

Cunning and calculating.

But when my mother was around, he was a soft teddy bear.

I was the flower girl in their wedding.

A year later, they’d had a son and named him, Vito.

And Maximo loved me as much as he could.

He really did.

But I always knew, deep down, that his heart truly belonged to his son.

I was an outsider—a reminder of the responsibility he hadn’t chosen but had accepted out of his duty to my mother.

After my mother’s death, that feeling only intensified.

During my childhood, I worked hard to earn my place in his house. I never complained, never asked for more than what was given. I did my best to anticipate his needs, cleaning stuff, ironing his suits, learning how to cook his favorite dishes.

I think I was nervous that he would give me up, so I believed that I had to be as irreplaceable as possible.

The sort of kid that would be missed, if gone.

I became the best I could be, the good girl who never stepped out of line, because in my mind, I had to earn my right to stay.

To belong.

And then, ballet came into my life. It was like a lifeline, something that belonged solely to me. Something no one could take away.

Ballet became my escape.

It was the only time I could truly be free.

I didn’t have to earn my place because it was already mine. Every leap, every spin, every grueling hour spent perfecting my craft was a step toward a world where I was enough —just as I was.

And now, as I listened to the audience chanting “Vampire Queen! Vampire Queen! Vampire Queen!”

I finally felt like I had done it.

I had earned my place, not just on that stage, but in this world.

It was mine.

Undisputed.

Undeniable.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I blinked them back, unwilling to let them fall.

You fucking did it! You. . .are worthy. Listen to them.

“Vampire Queen! Vampire Queen!”

The curtain slowly lowered, and the cheers began to subside.

Remember that sound. Hold it in your heart every damned day.

Intermission began, and I was sure that beyond the curtain, the audience had gone off to the bathroom or to get wine.

Slowly, the wires began to bring me down to the stage.

When my feet touched the ground, I spotted Melanique hurrying my way. Her braids bounced with movement. Her brown skin glowed.

The smile was huge on her face.

This was her big day too.

Years ago, she’d been a top ballerina. Then a career ending injury forced her to go into a different role.

Now she was in her early forties and working on her third career in the industry.

And, as the only Black female director of ballet in Obsidian Bay, Melanique faced a constant challenge to prove her worth and abilities twice over. The weight of expectations and stereotypes lay heavily on her shoulders, but she worked tirelessly every damn day to break barriers and pave the way for future generations.

And her ballet, Blood Rose was the first one to open this Fall season.

One of the stagehands hurried over to me and began undoing the wires around my waist.

Seconds later, Melanique got to me too. “Erica, you killed it!”

I wiped sweat off my forehead. “You think so?”

“You hear them screaming your name? You’re the freaking villain! They shouldn’t be chanting for you.” She laughed.

I grinned.

“This will be the best premiere of the whole month.” She helped the stagehand carefully remove the wires attached to my side. “Now we have the final act. How do you feel?”

“Amazing.”

“They’ll be talking about only you during intermission.”

“I doubt that. Vaslav’s crotch was crotching on that stage.”

“Oh, well. . .they’ll be talking about that too. Poor guy. For a ballerino a big cock can be a gift and a curse.”

Laughing at her, the stagehand removed the final wire and left us.

“Alright, Erica. Do you need water or anything?”

“I’m fine.”

“Get in that breathtaking final costume. It is going to blow everyone’s minds. Geneva really outdid herself.”

“She did.” This giddy excitement fell over me as I headed off the stage and to my dressing room.

Melanique kept my pace. “And to think the newspaper critics had claimed that a black female vampire would not be terrifying. Assholes said, we were being so woke that the ballet would be ruined from the ridiculous attempt at equality.”

“I bet those bastards wish they hadn’t written that.”

“Shoot. I spotted two of them screaming out, ‘Vampire Queen!’ with everyone else.”

I laughed some more.

Tonight, backstage was a flurry of activity. Stagehands rushed to and fro. Several costumes were being changed and adjusted on ballerinos. A few performers huddled together in small groups, talking excitedly.

Props and equipment were scattered throughout the backstage.

Back here, the smell of sweat, hairspray, and stage makeup lingered in the air, as well as the faint scent of fresh flowers from the bouquets that decorated various tables.

And there were tons of hushed whispers from the performers along with the steady hum of the lighting crew working on their positions.

“Oh shit, Erica. I almost forgot.” This serious expression hit Melanique’s face. “How the hell could I forget?”

We turned the corner and headed down the hallway to my dressing room.

I glanced at her. “Forget what?”

“Your father and brother are in the dressing room.”

“What?” I stopped walking.

Cold shivers ran through me.

“My stepfather? Are you serious?”

She nodded. “I told them that they should wait until after the ballet, but your stepfather was adamant about congratulating you for your performance.”

There was no way that was true. There had never been a moment where Maximo had ever cared about my dancing or even come to my events.

Melanique continued, “Plus. . .well. . .he’s a little bit scary. The sort of guy that you know. . .you can’t say no too.”

“I understand.” I resumed walking, but no longer did I have excitement from the ballet.

Now, the only thing that moved through me was fear.

Dear God. What does Maximo want and why now?