Chapter 1: Sunveil - Hunger & Harmony

Rules aren’t made to be broken.

They’re made to be bent.

That’s the mantra I cling to when only a door stands between me and four vampires.

To me, they’re not just bloodthirsty immortals. They’re more than terrifyingly beautiful descendants of myth and curse. I’m not practicing breathing exercises and wiping my clammy palms on my jeans because they’re led by literal fanged royalty.

Behind this underwhelming, ordinary door is Arteria. Rock legends that held the crown long before their musical influence became a supernatural scandal. I don’t listen to rock music. None of my stolen minutes are wasted on their genre, and even I understand their significance.

Most importantly, they’re my ticket to freedom.

“No piano lessons, Cadence.”

“No concerts, Cadence.”

“No humming in public, Cadence.”

Music was always the most forbidden candy in the bowl of taboos. Now, there’s no one to tell me no. Least of all my parents. Gone are the days of sneaking earbuds under my pillow or getting grounded for tapping my foot along to a grocery store’s speakers.

Being a ten-hour car ride away helps. This “internship” is all thanks to my best friend. Only Viola’s perfect smile and flawless record could charm both her career counselor and my parents into signing off on this.

Sure, we fudged some details . . .She’s the one who taught me how to bend a rule just enough to get my way. Her lesson will have to be the wind beneath my metaphoric wings. While my audacity is never lacking, I’m gonna need every ounce of her confidence.

The front desk staff said to just knock. With one last deep breath, I finally lift my hand.

Only for the door to rip open without warning.

“Oh!”

My eyes snap up to chase a gleam of sharp ivories. Jade green eyes and an angelic halo of curls seem incongruous with the pierced smirk and tapestry of tattoos along this guy’s golden skin.

“A human . . .” His tongue runs over the points of his fangs. “You here to be my next meal?”

“Uh . . .” I blink up at him. “I don’t think you’re supposed to eat personal assistants.”

He blinks back.

“Ezren fucking Black.” A woman’s stern tone has his smirk fading and spine straightening. Mine, too. “Knock it off.”

A pout settles on Ezren’s lips. The silver hoop on the bottom left side juts out comically.

“What? I can’t have a little fun?”

“Threatening the new hire isn’t fun,” she says as she stands from a leather couch.

Her tone is as sharp as her eyeliner. Ezren may have been threatening to turn me into a snack, but just the way she approaches has me alert. Despite her blunt reprimand, he doesn’t let up.

“It is to me . . .” he mumbles.

Arteria’s drummer is well known for his antics. A face like an angel, but he’s pure trouble. Face-to-face, he seems more like a prankster than a villain.

When she flicks her silver ponytail at him, he flinches like it’s the tip of a blade. After one last glare, she settles her ice-blue eyes on me.

“Excuse this idiot.”

“It’s a little funny,” I reply.

The moment her brow arches further, I stammer.

“I-I mean . . .not that funny, though. You’re right. Total idiot.”

“Hey!” Ezren says, but she lifts a manicured hand to silence him.

“You must be our new PA.”

I flip my strawberry-blonde ponytail over my left shoulder and pull my hand up to salute her.

“Yes, ma’am. Cadence Monroe, reporting for duty!”

Her hands settle onto her hips, her stark white acrylics sharpened like claws.

“I’m Selene, but you already knew that.”

She’s right. Arteria’s bassist and co-manager surely lives up to her infamous ice queen title.

That would be only two out of four members, though. I glance around to confirm it’s just them and me.

Their rehearsal studio is rock royalty heaven. I wouldn’t expect anything less. Despite running their own record label, money is clearly not an object. A vintage mini-bar and black leather seating are to the right, with the rest of the space dedicated to music. The blood-red guitar and onyx drums on the elevated platform are drool-worthy.

“I guess it’s better to be used to Ez’s antics than not,” she says. “Most new hires don’t last a month, let alone the assistants.”

“It’s not my fault,” Ezren defends as he flops onto one of the couches. “If it’s not Ryel being a thorn in your side, watch out for the king’s demands.”

“I’ll be fine!” I say, standing at the far end of the same couch Selene perches on. “I am perfectly qualified and will be the best assistant ever!”

They don’t need to know that my resume is one-hundred percent fabricated. They don’t need to know that I dropped out of college just before entering my final year. They certainly don’t need to know that I’ve never even listened to a full song of theirs. I researched enough to know the basics. What could be so difficult about checking emails and running errands?

“That’s the spirit,” Ezren says before jutting a finger at me. “So, go grab me a drink.”

I nearly short-circuit.

“What . . .I mean, like . . .Where, or . . .?”

“In the fridge, duh.”

Ezren looks at me expectantly. My shoulders relax. At least I don’t have to grab a human or something. As if she read my mind, Selene’s brow hits the ceiling.

“Did you think you’d have to snatch a stranger off the street?”

“I can do my own hunting, thank you very much,” Ezren says, adding a wink for good measure.

Warmth floods my cheeks. Maybe I should’ve brushed up on vampire etiquette.

In my defense, they've only been public for twenty-five years. We’ve barely had internet search engines in that amount of time! It’s not like my parents would’ve ever let me look up the performance that broke everything open, anyway.

“Is that my favorite newbie?”

I turn to the door, my smile returning when I see a familiar face.

“Lo!” I greet her.

Lorelai helped me during the interview process. It was nice to see a human crew member. Even though her gothic style couldn’t be more different from mine—and I swear, her natural hair color must be bubblegum pink—we hit it off instantly.

“Cadie! Oh my god, you made it,” she says as she bounces up to me.

“Just got here.”

“Still waiting on my drink,” Ezren chimes in, which has Lorelai’s sweet smile twisting into a scowl.

“Ugh, are you testing her in the first five minutes?”

“Is it wrong to be thirsty?” he shoots back.

“How could you be thirsty? I literally saw two women in here earlier⁠—”

Are there storm clouds brewing in this rehearsal studio, or is that Selene’s impatience?

“That was breakfast! Isn’t there supposed to be three meals in a day? Plus a snack?”

“For humans. You know, the mortals who are up all day and sleep when you’re awake?”

The air shifts. I peer between Ezren and Lorelai, noticing the crease of his brow.

“Hey,” Selene interjects, crossing her arms as she says, “One syllable of complaining from him and I’m sending him your way.”

“Ew.” Lorelai sticks her tongue out.

“No, thank you,” Ez says, his huff a little less indignant.

I don’t have the context yet, but genuine hurt pushes against his pout.

“Save it,” Selene says, her tone zipping both their mouths shut. “Lo, how about showing Cadence the fridge? Get her up to speed with the technology, too.”

Lorelai scrunches her nose at Ezren before she pulls me forward. After linking our arms together, she nods.

“I’ll show her the ropes.”

That’s how we end up in the staff lounge up the hall. It’s surprisingly corporate, bordering on sterile. They have everything from a full kitchen to a small dining area, including a vending machine. I don’t miss the label that says, “For Human Consumption Only” on it.

“You got the work phone?” she asks once we’re standing in front of the fridge.

Pulling it out of my pocket, I then unlock the sleek device. There’s already an established account and apps on here.

“If you go to the notes, you’ll find everything listed. Try to memorize, but for now, always double-check you’re getting the right thing for the right member.”

She’s not kidding. Everything is laid out, and all perfectly organized and formatted, too. I navigate to a folder labeled Ezren Black and find a list of preferences.

“AB is his favorite type . . .” I murmur. “Type B is a close second. Don’t let him eat nacho cheese chips; he doesn’t know when to stop, and it hurts his stomach.”

“Ah. I’ll have to update that he’s been trying to get into breakfast, too.”

I gawk at her.

“Vampires can eat food?”

“Uh . . .Yes and no. They can, but there’s no benefit,” she says, her gray eyes rolling. “How our drummer is supposed to tour with a constant stomachache is clearly not his concern. So, just make sure he sticks to groupies and what’s in the fridge.”

Opening the double doors, I peer inside. Pouches are lined up neatly, each type of blood grouped. A, B, AB, and even O are all there in plain, bold lettering. The only difference from juice is a small, see-through window revealing dark crimson liquid within the metallic packaging.

Thankfully, I’ve never been squeamish. Something tucked in the back catches my eye, though. I pause before I reach for the duller, browner liquid to check the label.

“Girl, that’s not AB,” Lorelai says, swatting my hand away just before I can grab it.

“What is⁠—”

“Check the note later, c’mon, hurry up!”

Ignoring the dull liquid, I snatch a pouch labeled AB. It’s only when we’re crossing into the rehearsal studio again that I realize a little straw is attached to the side. Adorable.

I’m too busy noticing that detail to see Lorelai stop walking. Only after I bump into her and fumble to keep the blood pouch from hitting the floor do I realize, gasping when I secure it in my hands and immediately bump into someone else.

“Shit!” I squeak, immediately straightening up.

When I spot dyed red hair hanging limp over tired, gunmetal eyes, I internally cringe at my luck. If Selene has a reputation, Ryel Thorne’s is even worse. Unsure of what to do, I stammer ‌an apology to Arteria’s rhythm guitarist.

“I-I . . .!”

Before I can even get a proper word out, he turns his back to me. Feeling equal parts grateful and dismissed, I rub my arm sheepishly as he joins Selene and Ezren on the platform.

“Everyone ready to go?”

A man finishes plugging in one amp and pushes his glasses up. While I can’t be certain, he gives off the energy of a human. Brown hair is tucked into his hoodie, the details of his face obscured. Must be a sound technician, judging by his preparing the equipment.

“Just waiting on my drink, Cass,” Ezren says to him before flashing me a mischievous smile.

Cass turns enough to glance at me, not a hint of care or interest in his brown eyes. He gestures for me to hurry.

Delivering Ezren’s drink, I back off to find safety on the couch. It’s nice to blend into the background and take it all in. Cass works with each member and their instruments, with Lorelai directing, too.

Selene’s arctic white bass is fittingly elegant in her hands. It’s a sharp contrast with Ryel’s all-black guitar, with Ezren’s drums the same color. I’m merely a bystander in this world of music. It’s fascinating.

Kind of like watching Ezren poke the straw into the pouch to begin sipping. My eyebrows knit together. Don’t vampires drink through their fangs? Or does it just puncture the skin? Is this something I should look into?

I’m about to pull out my work phone to skim through all that data when a singular guitar note stops me in my tracks.

It’s sharp and immediate, and it’s no surprise it’s coming from Ryel. Still, that single punch hits me right in the chest. I’m breathless as the sustained note rings out, full and reverberating, until it fades seconds later.

Some people say music is magic. That’s my belief. Who cares that I’m a die-hard pop fan? My voice cracks glass, and every instrument I try to play somehow breaks. It’s not about me or what I prefer. I just want this. Putting in earbuds, and streaming on MeTube, and hearing real, live music will finally be normal.

I’m done being an obedient daughter. I'm done accepting that music is poison. I’m done running from the only thing that makes me feel alive.

“Where the hell is His Majesty?” Ezren asks, eyes focused on Selene.

“The Archduchess called,” she replies.

“Ew, she never wants anything good.”

“Cut the shit, Ez,” Ryel says gruffly.

“What? An ex-regent shouldn’t waste a king’s time,” he retorts, his right knee bouncing impatiently. “A king who needs to be singing right about now.”

Come to think of it, Arteria’s lead singer and guitarist is the only one I haven’t seen. At least, in person. You can’t know about them without seeing him front and center. I can appreciate a pretty face. His dark, unruly hair and elegant jawline are certainly dreamy. I’m just not into brooding playboys.

My heart has always been for charming pop singers. The type that will sing, sweep you off your feet, and be hopelessly devoted.

That description seems pretty contrary to Niklaus Vane.

Which isn’t a bad thing. The last thing I need is a messy attraction to my boss.

“There’s a juice box in my studio.”

I snap my head up, confusion twisting my features.

It’s only when I turn, and I’m lost in garnet irises, that I realize that comment was directed at me.

Niklaus imposes on the doorway, taller and broader than I expected. I can’t stop my eyes from wandering enough to appreciate how his waist tapers. It’s not my fault the dip of his neckline is unfairly enticing. What’s not hidden behind black linen and leather is like marble, pale and flawless.

His cheekbones are sharp, but his eyes are sharper. Not only that, but his lips are formed into a perfect frown. Is he scowling at me?

“Juice box?” I echo.

Ezren snickers into his blood pouch. Selene and Lorelai look between him and me. Ryel remains occupied with his guitar strings, and Cass doesn’t even look up from his laptop.

Sure, I know nothing about him. It’s still obvious that the leader of Arteria, the actual king of vampires, just insulted me.

“Excuse you?”

I don’t care about any of his titles. He has zero right to be rude.

“Better a juice box than a jerk.”

Tension dampens the air. His jaw tightens. Cass raises his head.

To think I appreciated the sight. All the better, I guess. This is why I stick to pop princes.

When he scoffs and rips his gaze from mine, oxygen returns to my lungs. I steady my heartbeat, figuring every immortal here is aware of the rapid thumping.

“Anyway,” Lorelai says with a nervous chuckle. “C’mon, Cadence, let’s get you familiar with everything.”

The moment I stand, Niklaus tenses. I try to ignore him as I cross the room, but the closer I get, the more his features contort in horror. What is his problem? He’s practically lunging in the opposite direction.

Funny. An over six-foot vampire king being cautious about a five-foot-three human nobody who can’t even manage one push-up.

I don’t need a messy attraction to my boss. I really don’t need a tense relationship with him, either. All I want is freedom. To tour with Arteria and experience everything I never have. I just want to bend the rules.

Though I’m pretty sure I just snapped them in half.