Bruno Almeida runs The Vein the way he runs everything else: locked doors, controlled lights, and no surprises after midnight. The private lounge is his territory—glass, leather, low amber, the kind of room where members pay for discretion and get exactly that. Then two new members request an after-hours session and walk in like they already own the air.
Juniper is soft-spoken mischief with strawberry hair and a smile that never quite reaches apology. Brynn is taller, darker, regal in a way that makes the space feel suddenly too small. They don't ask for drinks. They ask for him—shared, open, and without the usual rules. No safewords they intend to use. No closed doors they plan to keep closed.
What starts as one locked-room night turns into something neither of them can walk away from. Blood is only the beginning. Hunger is the rest. Bruno discovers that some claims don't end when the sun comes up, and some hungers refuse to stay private. The club has eyes. The hallway has ears. And the three of them keep choosing each other anyway.
