“Guess so,” I answered.
He crouched in front of the fire, feeding it another log. The flames threw gold and red over his skin, softening every edge. My throat tightened.
“You know,” Simon said, glancing at me over his shoulder, “you could’ve said yes. Gone back to all that. Why didn’t you?”
I didn’t answer right away. Because how could I tell him the truth? That I’d stopped wanting the life that made sense the moment I met him.
“Didn’t feel right,” I said finally.
Simon studied me, eyes dark and unreadable. “You’ve changed, Kit.”
“You think so?” I asked him.
Silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable.
He rose to his feet, crossing to me. I looked up, and for a heartbeat, the air between us shifted, something quiet, dangerous, and inevitable.
I thought about all the things I shouldn’t want. About how fragile this happiness was, how temporary. But when he smiled, soft and uncertain, I found myself smiling back.
Maybe this wouldn’t last. Maybe the Guild would find out. Maybe his sire’s monsters would come again.
But tonight wasn’t about maybe. Tonight was about this. His warmth, his laughter, and the unspoken promise that for now, we still had time.
Even knowing how fleeting it was, I couldn’t bring myself to walk away.
14
SIMON
“What doyou want to do tonight?” Kit asked.
He dropped down onto the couch with a soft thump. The cushions groaned under his weight, dust lifting lazily in the warm air.
He looked comfortable there, legs stretched out, one arm draped casually over the backrest. I still wasn’t used to seeing someone so alive in this house.
It had been quiet for too long. Months of silence broken only by creaking wood and the occasional drip of rain through the cracked roof.
I tilted my head, studying him. “What do people usually do when they’re not fighting monsters?”
Kit smirked. “Usually? Watch TV.”
I blinked. “Is that why you brought that old TV the other night?”
He grinned, looking proud. “Yeah. We should test it properly now that it’s not threatening to explode.”
That made me laugh, actually laugh, and the sound startled both of us.
The truth was, I hadn’t stopped thinking about that night he showed up with the TV. He’d carried it under one arm like it weighed nothing, wires tangled around his wrist.
I’d been halfway through mending a broken chair when he appeared at my doorstep, a mischievous smile on his face and that unmistakable spark in his eyes.
“You can’t just sit here reading old books forever,” he’d said. “You need proper entertainment.”
We’d spent hours figuring out how to set it up. The cables were mismatched, the antenna was bent, and the only working outlet was across the room.
Kit had cursed under his breath more than once.
I had tried to help, though I barely knew what I was doing. At one point, the picture flickered to life. Static first, then a distorted news channel from some neighboring town.
