He turned back, eyebrows raised.
“This…” I gestured vaguely between us. “It can’t happen again.”
His smile faltered, but only for a second. “Because of what you are?”
“Because of what we both are,” I said. “If we keep this up, someone’s going to notice. The Guild. Or worse. One of my sire’s creatures.” I swallowed hard.
“If they find you, they won’t stop to ask questions,” I added.
He studied me for a long moment, then stepped closer. Too close.
“Then we’ll just have to take care of them together,” he said.
I wanted to tell him how stupid that sounded, how dangerous. But the quiet certainty in his voice silenced me. He believed that. Heck he meant it.
The light caught on the edge of his hair, on the curve of his cheek, and I realized I’d been memorizing him the way he’d memorized me the night before. I forced myself to look away.
“Be careful,” I said finally.
“I always am.”
That was another lie, but I didn’t call him on it. Kit hesitated at the door, hand resting on the frame. For a moment, I thought he might say something else.
Instead, he just gave me that small, tired smile.
“See you, Simon,” Kit said.
Then he was gone. I stood there for a long time, staring at the door long after it had closed, listening to the faint echo of his footsteps fade down the path.
Part of me wanted to yell at him not to come back. Tell him that every time he stepped through that door, he was risking everything. But the truth was, I didn’t want him to stop.
I sat down by the cold hearth, running a hand through my hair. My thoughts were a mess of hunger and guilt and something dangerously close to longing.
Kit didn’t see the tremor in my hands, the faint ache still burning under my skin from where I’d held him. He didn’t see how close I’d come to losing control.
Maybe it was better that way. As I wanted to protect him, I wasn’t sure I could protect him from me. Still, when my phone buzzed an hour later with a single message, I smiled.
Kit: Made it back. Miss you already.
12
SIMON
Kit had come by again,ignoring every warning I’d given him the last time. He’d dropped his bag by the door, muttered something about needing to check on me.
Before I could argue, he was already sitting in the old armchair by the fire. I should’ve told him to leave. Instead, I’d poured him tea and found myself watching the way the light flickered across his face.
He was telling me about some job the Guild had sent him on. A phantom in an abandoned motel that turned out to be nothing but bad wiring and mold.
Kit looked tired, but his voice was steady. Every so often, he’d glance at me like he was checking for cracks in my composure.
“You’re feeding enough?” he asked finally.
“Enough,” I lied.
Kit frowned. “You sure? Because you look?—”
“Don’t say it,” I grumbled.
