Jonah Reyes accepts a midnight photography job at The Vein, a private gallery in the warehouse district that doesn't appear on any map. The invitation arrived under his door with no return address—just a time, a place, and the instruction to bring the night lens.
Viktor Lang is waiting when he arrives. Tall, pale, precise. Ice-gray eyes that catch the light wrong. He owns the collection. He also owns the private wing above it, the unlocked doors, and the quiet understanding that some appetites are older than the city outside.
Jonah is hired to document three pieces. What he finds instead is a man who can hear the exact rhythm of his pulse through a closed door and has already decided what he wants to do with it. The door to the private room stays unlocked. The gallery below stays open. The risk is part of the heat.
What begins as a single night of blood and claiming becomes a key on a leather cord and a set of marks that never fully fade. Jonah came for the art. He stays for the vampire who tastes him like a vow.
