My entire body locked up. The world narrowed down to a single point of heat where Harlow’s mouth connected with my neck. Her lips were soft but insistent, teeth scraping lightly against my skin while her tongue swirled patterns that short-circuited my brain.

She was biting me. In the hallway of her family’s mansion. While wearing a vampire costume.

This was bad. Really bad.

"Harlow," I managed, but my voice came out embarrassingly rough. "You need to stop."

She didn’t. Instead, she pressed closer, her body molding against mine as she tilted her head for a better angle. One of her hands slid up my chest and curled around the back of my neck, holding me in place.

My hands gripped her waist, initially to push her away. But something traitorous in me hesitated. The suction on my neck intensified, and I felt heat rush through my body like wildfire.

"Harlow!" This time my voice worked properly. I pushed her back firmly, breaking the contact between her mouth and my neck.

She blinked up at me, eyes dazed and unfocused. Her lips were parted and wet, cheeks flushed a deep pink that matched the highlights in her hair. For a moment, she looked almost confused, like she’d been in some kind of trance.

"I..." She touched her own lips, eyes widening. "Oh no. Oh no no no."

Reality seemed to crash back into her all at once. Her face went from pink to scarlet in seconds.

"I am so sorry!" She covered her face with her hands, peeking at me through her fingers. "It was just supposed to be a joke! A little vampire nibble! Not a whole... oh my god, what did I do?"

I lifted my hand to my neck, feeling the damp warmth she’d left behind. The skin felt tender, sensitized. I pulled my fingers away and stared at them, half expecting to see blood from how intensely she’d been going at it.

"You gave me a hickey in your family’s hallway," I said flatly. "That’s what you did."

"I didn’t mean to!" She was still covering most of her face, but I could see her eyes widening above her fingers. "It was supposed to be funny! But then you smelled so good, and your skin was so warm, and I just... kept going?"

"Kept going is right. Were you planning to stop before you hit an artery?"

"Isaiah!" She dropped her hands from her face, pouting now. "It wasn’t that bad."

"You were basically making out with my neck."

"I wasn’t..."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Okay fine, maybe a little." She reached out and touched the spot on my neck, her fingers gentle. "I left a mark, didn’t I? I’m really sorry."

Her touch sent another wave of heat through me. I stepped back, putting distance between us.

"It’s fine. Just... don’t do that again."

She bit her lip, looking uncertain for a moment before a mischievous gleam returned to her eyes. She grabbed my hand, lacing her fingers through mine before I could pull away.

"No, it’s not fine! It’s perfect!" Her entire demeanor shifted, excitement taking over again. "Don’t you see? Now that you’ve been bitten, you’re becoming a vampire too! That means you have to be my vampire butler!"

I stared at her. "That’s... not how any of this works. On multiple levels."

"It is now!" She swung our linked hands between us, bouncing slightly on her toes. The movement did interesting things to her chest in that costume. I kept my eyes firmly on her face.

"Harlow, I’m not—"

"The transformation has already begun!" She pressed her free hand dramatically to her forehead. "Soon you’ll develop a thirst for blood and an appreciation for dramatic capes!"

"The only thing I’m developing is a headache."

"That’s stage one of the transformation!" She squeezed my hand, beaming up at me. "The butler costume is black with red accents. It’ll look perfect with your hair! And now we’ll match! The vampire maid and her vampire butler!"

Her enthusiasm was almost enough to distract from the fact that she was still holding my hand. Almost. Her fingers were small and warm against mine, her grip surprisingly strong for someone so delicate-looking.

"I didn’t agree to be your butler, vampire or otherwise."

"But you’ve been marked!" She pointed at my neck. "See? You belong to me now."

The possessive statement hit differently than she probably intended. My stomach did a complicated flip.

"I don’t belong to anyone, Harlow."

"Not even a little bit?" Her smile faltered slightly. She looked up at me through her lashes, suddenly shy. A blush crept back across her cheeks. "Not even for the festival? Just for one day?"

And there it was. The real Harlow beneath all the bouncing enthusiasm and vampire jokes. The girl who wanted something real but wasn’t sure how to ask for it directly.

I sighed. "One day. And I’m not wearing fangs."

Her face lit up like I’d given her the moon. "Really? You’ll actually do it?"

"Against my better judgment."

She squealed and threw her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. "Thank you! You won’t regret it! We’ll be the best booth in the whole festival!"

I stood stiffly, aware that we were still in the hallway where anyone could walk by. "Harlow, you’re still in costume."

"Oh!" She pulled back but didn’t let go completely. Her arms stayed looped around my neck. "Does it bother you?"

"Someone might see us."

"Let them," she whispered. Her eyes dropped to my neck where she’d left her mark. "They’ll know you’re mine now anyway."

The possessiveness in her voice sent another wave of heat through me. This girl was dangerous.

"I should find Iris," I said, trying to ignore how warm Harlow felt against me. "She’s probably wondering where I am."

"She knows exactly where you are." Harlow’s smile turned sly. "She helped me plan this, remember?"

"Traitor," I muttered.

"Smart girl," Harlow corrected. She finally released me and stepped back, though not very far. "She wanted me to win."

"Win what?"

"You." Harlow tilted her head, looking at me curiously. "Haven’t you figured it out yet? We’re all competing for you."

I reached up and covered the mark with my hand, feeling the heat still radiating from it. "I’m not a prize to be won."

"No, you’re not," she agreed seriously. "You’re a person who gets to choose. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try to be chosen."

I didn’t know how to respond to that. The honesty in her voice was disarming.

"Why me?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Harlow’s expression softened. "Because you’re real. Because you look at me, not the Valentine name or the Instagram following or the money. You see me."

"I see all of you," I said quietly.

"I know." She smiled, a small private one different from her usual sunshine grin. "That’s why we’re all competing so hard. You see each of us as individuals. Do you know how rare that is?"

I’d never thought about it that way. To me, they’d always been distinct people who happened to share a face. Cassidy with her fire. Vivienne with her ice. Sabrina with her quiet intensity. And Harlow with her sunshine.

"It shouldn’t be rare," I said.

"But it is." She reached out and took my hand again. Her fingers played with mine idly, tracing patterns against my palm. "And now you’re stuck with us until you choose."

"Or until your mother murders me and buries my body where no one will find it."

Harlow laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "She wouldn’t do that."

"You sure about that?"

"Absolutely. Burial takes too much effort." She squeezed my hand. "She’d have you dissolved in acid. Much more efficient."