Page 12

“I listen because it matters,” he replied, firm and unyielding. “Everything about you does.”

That should have scared me. Instead, it made my chest ache. I know it must be a line he uses on women, but at the moment it feels special and I won’t overthink it. “And you?” I asked softly. “You ask all these questions. Tell me something about you.”

A pause. Then, “I don’t have a normal life,” he said. “I don’t have a home that stays quiet. I have brothers, I have enemies and responsibility.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“It is,” he said. Then his gaze softened, just for me. “Until you walked in.”

My breath caught, before I could say anything else, he kissed me again, deeper this time, like the conversation had only pulled him tighter, closer. And I let him, because somehow, impossibly, it felt like he already knew me, and worse, like he wanted all of it.

In return, he gave me pieces of himself. Not everything, just enough. His name, that he had four brothers, the fact that danger followed him whether he wanted it to or not. And always, always, his hands were on me. Grounding, possessive, careful in a way that made my chest ache.

“You’re mine,” he said quietly, resting his forehead against mine again. Not a question or a boast.

I raise my brows. “I don’t belong to anyone,” I shot back, even as my body betrayed me by leaning closer.

Fire flashed in his eyes. His temper flared hot and fast, like a match strike. For a heartbeat, I saw what everyone else feared. Then he breathed, his voice dropped. “You belong with me.”

“No,” I said. “You don’t get to decide that…I do.”

He backed me fully against the wall then, body caging mine without crushing me, mouth claiming mine again until my protests dissolved into heat and confusion and need. I had never been kissed like this. Never felt so small and so safe at the same time.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was steady. “You’ll be staying with me from now on.”

“What?” I shoved lightly at his chest. “Absolutely not. You can’t just…”

He lowered his head. I felt it before I understood it, a sharp pressure at my neck, not pain, something else. Something that ripped a sound from my throat and lit my nerves on fire. I froze.

“What did you…”

“I should have told you sooner,” he said, holding me still, forehead resting against mine. “I’m a vampire.”

Shock tore through me, panic followed. I struggled, pushing at him, heart slamming wildly.

“This isn’t funny,” I said, breath unsteady as panic clawed its way up my spine. “Get away from me.” I shoved at his chest, hard enough that it should have mattered but it didn’t.

He didn’t let go but he didn’t hurt me either. He didn’t pin me down or overpower me the way he easily could have. Instead, he waited, body tense, eyes locked on mine like he was giving me space even while refusing to give me distance.

“Bryn,” he said quietly. “Listen to me.”

“I am listening,” I snapped. “And you sound insane. Vampires aren’t real and this is a club, not some gothic nightmare…” I tried to move past him. That was when he moved.

One second, I had space, the next my back met the wall, his body bracketing mine, solid and unyielding. His hands came up, one at my hip, the other cupping my face as his mouth crashed into mine. It stole the words straight off my tongue.

I fought it at first. I did. I turned my head, fists pressing against his chest, anger flaring hot and sharp.

“You’re crazy,” I breathed against his mouth. “You don’t get to…”

His kiss deepened, slower now, devastating in its certainty, not frantic or rough just complete. It’s like he knew exactly how to dismantle me piece by piece. My body betrayed me.

Heat rushed through me, wiping out my anger in waves. My pulse skidded, my knees weakened. And when his hand slid down, lifting my leg around his waist to hold me closer, I gasped despite myself.

“Stop,” I whispered, but he didn’t.

He kissed down my jaw, along my neck, unhurried, deliberate. My head fell back against the wall without permission, a sound tearing free from my chest that I didn’t recognize as my own. I hated him for it, hated how my body arched into his. I hated how the pull toward him was stronger than my fear, stronger than my logic, stronger than everything I knew to be true. Hated that I was losing complete control…what was this man doing to me?

“Look at me,” he said.