I passed by the entrance anyway. Music drifted out, something slow and grimy. A few hunters were laughing by the door, half-drunk, one of them nursing a bruised jaw.
The sight used to make me ache for that kind of oblivion. Tonight, I just kept walking. Instead, I found myself thinking about Simon.
The way his voice softened when he said my name. The way his eyes, too bright and too strange, still managed to look gentle when he smiled.
I’d spent years chasing monsters, cutting down anything that looked remotely unnatural. Now, the only thing that made my pulse steady was a vampire hiding in a crumbling house on the outskirts of town.
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and made my way to the butcher’s. The bell above the door jingled as I entered, the sharp scent of raw meat flooding the air.
The guy behind the counter didn’t even flinch when I asked for a few containers of animal blood. Hunters came in for all kinds of strange requests. He probably assumed I was tracking a ghoul.
“Back in a sec,” he muttered, vanishing into the storage room.
While I waited, I caught sight of my reflection in the refrigerated glass. I looked tired. Hollow-eyed. The kind of man who didn’t know which side of the line he belonged to anymore.
The butcher returned, handed me the bag, and I paid without a word. On the walk to Simon’s house, the city fell away behind me, swallowed by trees and mist.
I took the long route. The forest trail was quiet except for the crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional hoot of an owl.
I knew every twist of this path now. Could walk it blindfolded. Part of me wondered what the hell I was doing. Why I kept coming back. Because it felt right, whispered something traitorous inside me.
When the house came into view, my chest tightened. The old place looked almost peaceful tonight. Light flickering from the upstairs window, smoke curling lazily from the chimney.
He’d started keeping the fire lit again. That stupid, stubborn spark of humanity he clung to, it killed me and comforted me all at once.
I climbed the steps quietly, balancing the paper bag in one hand, and knocked.
The door opened almost immediately. Simon stood there, barefoot, shirt rumpled, eyes brighter than usual in the dim light. For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice like velvet scraping over stone.
“Hey yourself.” I lifted the bag a little. “Got your dinner.”
A hint of color touched his cheeks. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” I said. “Besides, the butcher’s starting to think I have a weird pet.”
That earned me a small laugh, the sound curling low in my stomach.
Simon stepped aside, letting me in. The warmth of the fire hit first, followed by that faint, almost electric scent that was uniquely him. Not quite human and not entirely monster, but something in between.
The world outside didn’t exist anymore. Not the Guild. Not Grayson. Not the disappointment gnawing at my chest. Just the two of us in that fragile quiet.
He took the bag, brushing his fingers against mine as he did. A spark leapt between us.
I swallowed. “Long day,” I muttered.
“Guild business?” Simon asked.
“Yeah.” I sank into the chair by the fire. “They offered me my old life back.”
He turned, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “And?”
“I told them no.”
A faint smile ghosted across his lips. “You really are terrible at following orders.”
