I.

The moon hung heavy over the Louisiana bayou, casting a silver sheen over the thick fog that clung to the cypress trees and swamplands like a shroud. The water was still, a perfect reflection of the untouched wilderness, but the land held echoes of something far older, something far more dangerous. Selene stood on the edge of the swamp, her tall, lithe frame silhouetted against the mist, black hair falling like a curtain down her back. Her amber eyes, sickeningly bright in the dim light, scanned the horizon, searching for something that wasn't there—freedom, perhaps. 

She had once lived here in peace with her clan, deep in the underground sewers and hidden caverns of the swamps. The vampires had thrived in secret for centuries, feeding carefully, living in the shadows as predators should. But the younger males, foolish and hungry for glory, had overstepped. They had begun to take virgins from the nearby villages, too bold, too reckless. The humans had noticed, and the retaliation had come swiftly. The Grail, a shadowy, fanatical group draped in the guise of Christianity, descended upon them like a plague, wiping out her clan with brutal efficiency. They didn't just hunt vampires—they annihilated them, burning their bodies and scattering their ashes to the wind. 

Selene had been spared. Not out of mercy, but because of her beauty. The head commander of the Grail, a man whose cruelty was matched only by his arrogance, had decided she was too valuable to kill. She would serve him, not just as a living weapon, but as a testament to his power—a trophy of his conquests. For years, she had been under their control, forced to carry out missions that would sicken even the darkest of creatures. Seduction, assassination, war crimes—the Grail unleashed her on their enemies, knowing she would never fail. Not just because she was an expert killer, but because she had no choice. 

A bomb had been implanted deep within her neck, a sophisticated device designed to counter her advanced healing factor. If she disobeyed, tried to flee, or even entertained the thought of rebellion, they could detonate it remotely. It would only take a second, and not even her vampire resilience could save her. She had tested the limits once, long ago, and the resulting pain had been so excruciating it had nearly driven her mad. Since then, she had complied, performing her gruesome tasks without question, though her hatred festered and grew with every kill. 

Now, they allowed her to roam, pretending she had some semblance of a life. She traveled, drifted through the world with no purpose but to exist. But she knew she was nothing more than their puppet, a tool they could call upon whenever the need arose. Her pale skin glowed faintly in the moonlight, marred only by the twisting, black veins that ran beneath her flesh like ancient, foreign tattoos—markings that pulsed with a language no living being could understand. Her claws, black as night, were retracted for now, but she could feel them just beneath the surface, eager to tear, to rip, to maim.

The world was silent, save for the soft hum of the insects in the distance, but Selene knew better. She could sense the darkness moving, the Grail's call drawing closer. They would come for her soon, with another mission, another blood-soaked task to complete. And she would comply. She always did. But deep within her, a hunger stirred—one far more dangerous than any thirst for blood. The hunger for revenge.

The vampire blinked. She wasn't in Louisiana. She's not been back in decades, it simply hurt far too much. Maladaptive daydreaming was a prominent feature of her species. When you are essentially eternal , and your life is fringed with nothing but death and decay, fantasizing about something you'll never see, or that once gave you comfort, was common. She finished her cigarette, looking wistfully at the sky one more time before entering the lavish NYC penthouse.

It gleamed under the soft glow of chandeliers, a stark contrast to the chaos that simmered beneath the surface of the party. The president of Serbia was hosting one of his infamous soirees, surrounded by politicians, businessmen, and a swirl of debauchery disguised as diplomacy. Selene moved through the crowd, her body wrapped in a tight, blood-red bodycon dress that clung to her every curve. She wore a pair of black stilettos, their heels sharp enough to kill if she needed them to. Her long, flowing black hair cascaded down her back, framing a face that had drawn more than a few curious glances.

She had come here under the guise of a call girl, just another pretty face among the crowd of hired entertainment. Her amber eyes were hidden behind dark contacts, giving them an ordinary human hue. Her claws and fangs were retracted, and she carefully controlled her breathing to mask the telltale signs of her true nature-the twisting, black veins that marred her pale skin. Tonight, she was human. Or at least, she had to appear that way.

It was time for a change in the Serbian government, and the president had outlived his usefulness. Selene was the Grail's best weapon—a vampire turned contract killer, capable of infiltrating the most dangerous situations. She didn't just love killing; she had become the best at it. The bomb implanted deep within her neck ensured that disobedience was never an option. One wrong move, one moment of rebellion, and she would be gone in an instant, her advanced healing factor rendered useless by the device.

As she navigated the crowded room, Selene made eye contact with two of the president's personal guards. It wasn't hard to seduce them; they were already eyeing her like wolves. She leaned in close, whispering promises of whatever they desired if they would just take her upstairs. Her voice was soft, sultry, and full of lies. It didn't take long for the guards to fall for her act, leading her through the bustling party and into the quieter upper floors of the penthouse.

Once they were out of sight, Selene's demeanor changed in an instant. As soon as they were in a secluded hallway, her claws extended from her fingertips, black and razor-sharp. Befor↓ her guard could react, she slashed their throats with deadly precision, blood spraying across the walls. She stepped over their bodies without a second thought, her expression cold and unfeeling as she wiped the blood from her claws and retracted them once more.

Her real target lay just ahead-the president's private suite. The door was slightly ajar, muffled laughter and the sound of glasses clinking leaking from the room. Selene slipped inside quietly, her senses on high alert. But what she found stopped her dead in her tracks.

The president was already dead.

Welcome to Her Vamire Empire. This is a multiple Mc story, (Victor and Selene are the main characters) Fair warning, it gets rough and there's lots of gore in the beginning. Read at your own caution.