As Darla walked away from the table, she let her steps slow just enough to keep the men's attention on her, the subtle sway of her hips and the measured elegance of her posture drawing their eyes. She could feel their gazes lingering, heavy with intrigue and something darker, as if they were mentally sizing her up as a new addition to their world. She didn't mind the attention—she'd learned long ago that it was sometimes easier to play along with men's expectations than to defy them outright.
Once she was a few steps away, the men turned back to each other, their voices low but discernible enough for her keen ears to catch pieces of the conversation.
"Not like the others, is she?" one of the men murmured, the one in the red suit with golden hair.
"Not at all," the man in the maroon suit replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Confident... perhaps a bit too confident for a place like this."
The man with the white suit chuckled, an amused gleam in his eye. "Wouldn't mind breaking that confidence," he mused, twirling his glass thoughtfully.
The red-haired man leaned back, his gaze following her. "Well, if nothing else, she'll make this evening more interesting."
She heard a soft murmur of agreement among them, and she knew exactly what game they were playing. They were waiting for her to show a crack in her composure, a momentary lapse in her poise, something to betray the fear they were accustomed to seeing in women here. It was almost amusing; they were expecting her to act timid, to stumble under their scrutiny.
Darla decided to indulge them, just enough to keep them intrigued. She turned back toward them, giving them a serene smile that held the faintest glint of amusement. Her eyes swept over the table as though she were acknowledging them but nothing more, as though they were no more interesting to her than a passing breeze. Her gaze met each man's eyes with a steady, knowing look, one that said she was in control of herself—and of them. She was unfazed, calm, and even faintly amused.
The red-haired man's brows rose slightly, surprise flickering in his gaze. The man in the maroon suit stopped swirling his glass and straightened, clearly caught off guard. A silence settled over the table as they watched her in something close to disbelief, and she could almost hear the gears turning in their minds, recalibrating their expectations.
Without another word, Darla gave them a small, courteous nod and walked away, leaving them in a subtle stupor. She could feel their eyes still on her back, the weight of their intrigue almost palpable, but she didn't look back. She continued her way to the bar, her steps graceful and composed, as though their presence had been a mere passing formality in her evening.
At the bar, she dropped off a few empty glasses and turned to scan the room, searching for her next table to attend. It was then that she noticed another table, where a young girl, one of the newer recruits, was pouring drinks for a group of men. The girl's expression was flustered, her cheeks tinged with pink as she fumbled with the glasses. Darla watched her with a slight pang of sympathy; she recognized the girl's nervousness, the way she avoided eye contact with the men as if they were predators and she was prey.
But it wasn't the girl's shyness that caught Darla's attention—it was the way one of the men at the table was looking at her. His gaze was fixed, almost predatory, and as Darla focused on him, she noticed something strange. His eyes seemed to glow faintly, a dull, unnatural shade of red that flickered like a flame. The longer he looked at the girl, the more intense the glow became, as though he were feeding off her fear, savoring it in some way that made Darla's skin prickle.
A moment of alarm sparked within her, but she quickly quelled it, schooling her features into calm neutrality. She couldn't afford to react, not here, not with so many eyes on her. She would have to learn the rules of this place, understand what she was dealing with, before she made any move that could put her at risk. Whatever this place was, it was clearly far from ordinary.
Once the man finally shifted his gaze, the glow faded, and Darla's shoulders relaxed slightly. She waited a moment longer, watching to make sure the girl was unharmed. When it seemed the danger had passed, she turned to walk away, her mind churning with questions. Vampires. She was certain now. The signs were unmistakable, but knowing didn't make her any safer. It only made her more aware of the peril that surrounded her, the fine line she would have to tread.
Across the room, she caught sight of Simon, the tall gray-haired man who had assigned her tasks earlier, watching her with a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. His eyes met hers, and though his face was as impassive as ever, she could sense the amusement behind his gaze. He had seen her noticing the man's red-eyed stare; he knew that she understood the reality of where she was.
*They're watching me,* she thought, *testing me, waiting to see how I'll react.*
Darla took a steadying breath and adjusted her posture, straightening her spine. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of fear. She was done with that life. This time, she would take control, no matter how many vampires, secrets, or dangers lay in her path.
Leaving Simon's gaze behind, she moved to another table on the far side of the room, ready to serve the next set of patrons. Her senses were sharper now, her awareness heightened as she took in every detail of her surroundings, every nuance in the room. The air here was different, tinged with something ancient and powerful, as though this place were a nexus for beings that thrived on fear, passion, and control.
Her next table was a quieter group, their attention focused on their drinks and their own muted conversation. She approached them, her expression friendly yet reserved, and took their orders with practiced ease. This time, there was no scrutiny, no intense gazes tracking her movements. It was almost a relief to serve a table that held no hidden agendas, or at least none directed toward her.
As she moved about the room, carrying drinks and taking orders, she noticed that the men she'd first served were still watching her, their gazes following her with a subtle but undeniable interest. They had resumed their conversation, but every so often, one of them would glance her way, as if waiting for another glimpse of whatever it was that had intrigued them about her.
Finally, her circuit brought her back to the bar, where she placed another order and took a moment to catch her breath. The evening was far from over, and she knew that the real test lay not in her composure, but in her ability to navigate this strange, dangerous world she'd found herself in. She would need allies, information, and a plan. But for now, all she could do was play her part, watch, and wait.
With a deep breath, she turned back to the room, ready to continue her task. The eyes of the vampires might be on her, but she was prepared for them. She would play their game, and maybe, just maybe, she would come out on top.