Hate was a strong word, but Dante HATED the annual ball. The air felt oppressive even though the grand hall was almost the size of a football stadium. So much opulence, so many people dressed in their finest clothes, and so many perfumes drowning each other. Disgusting. Dante had drunk a couple of glasses of the finest blood and it had only tasted of mud. He wished more than anything that he could escape for a moment and eat a chocolate bar he had hidden inside a hideous vase near the exit. He mentally sighed because he couldn't allow himself to sigh there among so many guests. Everyone would comment and point as if yawning were as mundane as taking a shit. Surely these people didn't take a shit. Or maybe they did. Or maybe he was already delirious. He heard Angeline's terrible voice. It wasn't that the vampire was ugly; on the contrary, she was beautiful and as dangerous as a praying mantis. It was said that her ex-fiancé had suffered a terrible plane crash. Dante smiled. In reality, that poor soul had met a horrible end at the hands of his soon-to-be wife. When he grew bored with his lovers, he tended to make them disappear in various ways so no one would reveal their secrets. And now Dante was his point of view. "Darling, will you invite me to a dance?" Angeline asked. The hair on the back of Dante's neck stood up. That honeyed voice made even his vampire fangs retract to avoid accidentally biting her. He must have had acid in his veins. "I'm sorry, miss, they're waiting for me somewhere else, maybe another time," Dante refused, almost running away. In hell Dante thought. He needed to get out of there. His father Lucien watched him with a critical and authoritarian eye. Every step was watched and horribly controlled. And Alexander, his brother, wasn't much better. He was after him and had even discovered his precious hidden chocolate bar. He would kill him if he took his prize. Tired of being there, Dante walked toward the garden, moving with restrained elegance. He couldn't seem to run away, but he was. As soon as he stepped outside, the rain and fresh air welcomed him. Dante looked up at the sky, enjoying a moment of peace. One of the servants gave him an umbrella, which he didn't want, but which he used to keep his impeccable suit dry, or his father would stone him at the end of the party. I need chocolate, he thought. "Excuse me, would you like some?" a voice said. Angelic. Beautiful. Perfect. His vision blurred for a few seconds before focusing. It was a servant. A human could tell from her scent. A pure, clean scent, unsweetened like the terrible party perfumes. Her mask was perfectly positioned as requested by the staff. The rules are clear: don't go in, don't listen, just work and leave. She was talking to him. And she was giving him a chocolate bar. The world seemed to shake beneath his feet.