Chapter 1: The Spark in Exile
The air in the dimly lit Parisian safehouse was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and unspoken tension. Booker, or Sebastien Le Livre as he was once known, leaned against the cracked plaster wall, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over the room. His exile had hardened him, but not enough to dull the predatory glint in his eyes. A century of solitude loomed ahead, yet here he was, summoned for a fleeting mission overlap with the Old Guard. And there, across the room, stood Nicolo Di Genova—Nicky—his gaze as piercing as a blade, his presence a forbidden fruit Booker had craved for centuries.
Nicky’s lean frame was coiled with quiet strength, his hands busy cleaning a rifle, though his eyes flicked to Booker with a mix of suspicion and something darker, something unspoken. The room was silent save for the clink of glass as Booker poured himself another drink, his movements deliberate, a predator sizing up prey.
“You’ve got some nerve showing your face here, Booker,” Nicky said, his voice low, a velvet edge to the Italian lilt. “After what you pulled, I should gut you where you stand.”
Booker smirked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “And yet, here I am, still breathing. You’ve always been too noble for your own good, Nicky. Or is it Joe’s leash that keeps you in check?”
Nicky’s jaw tightened, his fingers pausing on the rifle. “Don’t talk about him like that. You don’t get to mention his name after you betrayed us.”
Booker took a slow step forward, his boots heavy on the creaking floorboards. “Betrayal’s a strong word. I made a choice. A bad one, sure, but I’ve got a hundred years to atone for it. Question is, are you gonna keep playing the loyal husband, or are you gonna admit you’ve been looking at me like you want to tear my clothes off since I walked in?”
Nicky’s laugh was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. “You’re delusional, Booker. I’d sooner fuck a cactus than touch you.”
“Oh, come on, Nicky,” Booker purred, closing the distance between them, his voice a low growl. “I’ve seen the way your eyes linger. You’re not as immune to me as you pretend. Tell me, does Joe know how your pulse races when I’m near? How your skin flushes just a little too much?”
Nicky stood, his height matching Booker’s, their faces inches apart. The air crackled with unspoken desire, a dangerous dance neither could fully resist. “You’re a bastard, you know that?” Nicky hissed, but his voice wavered, betraying the heat pooling in his core. “You think you can just waltz back in and seduce me with that silver tongue of yours?”
Booker’s grin was wicked, his eyes dark with intent. “I don’t think, Nicky. I know. I’ve had centuries to perfect the art of making men like you weak at the knees. And right now, I can see it—your breath’s hitching, your hands are itching to grab me, aren’t they?”
Nicky’s gaze dropped to Booker’s lips for a split second before snapping back up, his resolve fraying at the edges. “Keep talking, Booker. See where it gets you.”
Booker leaned in, his breath hot against Nicky’s ear. “It’ll get me exactly where I want to be—pressed against you, feeling every inch of that hard body you hide under all that righteous anger. Tell me you don’t want to know what my cock feels like, Nicky. Tell me you’re not already wet just thinking about it.”
Nicky’s breath caught, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he shoved Booker back, but not far enough. Their bodies were still too close, the heat between them undeniable. “You’re playing a dangerous game, alpha,” Nicky warned, his voice thick with barely restrained need. “One wrong move, and I’ll end you.”
Booker chuckled, his hand brushing against Nicky’s hip, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt through them both. “Then make the move, omega. I’m right here, waiting for you to take what you’ve been craving for centuries.”
Their eyes locked, the room shrinking to just the two of them, the world outside fading as the tension snapped taut. Nicky’s hand twitched, hovering near Booker’s chest, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. And in that moment, as their breaths mingled, heavy and panting, it was clear that whatever happened next would be explosive—raw, forbidden, and utterly consuming.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.