“No,” he says gently.“I’m asking you to be exactly what you are, a vampire with enough humanity left to care about something more than blood.That’s what makes you different from the others.That’s what gives you a chance.”
The words settle into my chest like stones, heavy and uncomfortable.
“If I fail—”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I have faith.”
“In me?”
“In her.”Prophet glances back toward the clubhouse, toward Tessa’s window.“She’s stronger than you think.And she’s already chosen you, whether either of you wants to admit it yet.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
We stand there in silence as the first hints of dawn begin to creep over the horizon, and I make myself a promise.
I won’t claim Tessa.Won’t feed from her, won’t bind her to me in ways she can’t escape.I’ll protect her from the devourer, from heaven’s tests, from my own goddamn nature if I have to.
Even if it kills me.
Because Prophet is right about one thing: Tessa deserves better than a monster who can’t control himself.
And maybe—just maybe—I can be better.
For her.
By the time I head back inside, the sun is starting to rise and the clubhouse is stirring.I can hear boots on the stairs, voices in the common room, the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen.
Blade’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp and commanding.“Church in twenty minutes.Everyone.”
I pause outside Tessa’s door one last time, listening.
Her heartbeat is steady now, calm.She’s awake but still in bed, probably dreading the day ahead.I can almost feel her anxiety through the wall, and it takes everything I have not to knock and check on her.
Instead, I force myself to turn away.
Rule number one: Never feed from Tessa.
Rule number two: Never touch more than necessary.
Rule number three: Never fully claim her.
Three simple rules.
And I’m already breaking every single one.
God help us both.
