The heavy black sedan door clicked shut, cutting off the loud roar of the sudden autumn downpour crashing against the paved streets of Madison Avenue.

Inside the private vehicle, the air was warm, quiet, and scented with expensive leather and clean cologne. Outside, thick sheets of gray rain poured down from the dark sky, blurring the bright neon streetlights of Manhattan into soft streaks of gold and red.

Clara settled comfortably into the deep leather backseat, shaking a few stray raindrops from the hem of her cream wool coat.

Lucian sat right beside her, his massive shoulders filling out the spacious seat. He moved quickly to help her, his large,...