Every instinct in me screamed to look away. This was wrong, dangerous and irrevocable. Still, he’d offered freely, and I was so, so tired of pretending I didn’t want or need him.
I leaned in slowly, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin. His pulse fluttered under my breath. My fangs ached, the hunger clawing up through me like wildfire.
“Tell me to stop,” I whispered.
Kit said nothing. When my lips brushed his skin, he inhaled sharply but didn’t move. The first taste hit like a shock. Sweet, sharp and alive.
I drank carefully, mindful, but every pull made it harder to stop. The world narrowed to the beat of his heart and the sound of his breathing.
His hand came up, hesitantly at first, then with quiet certainty, threading into my hair. Not pushing me away, but anchoring me there.
I forced myself to pull back. My lips trembled as I lifted my head. His pulse raced under flushed skin, but his eyes were calm.
“Simon,” he said softly.
I pressed my forehead to his shoulder, breathing him in. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“I’m fine. It didn’t hurt at all,” Kit assured me.
“That’s not the point.” My voice came out rough. “This changes things.”
“I know. You told me,” he said. “Maybe that’s okay.”
I looked up at him then, and what I saw undid me completely. Trust, warmth, and something dangerously close to love. The blood still lingered on my tongue, sweet and burning.
I knew this was a turning point, that everything between us had just shifted into something I couldn’t take back, and I didn’t care.
Kit brushed his thumb across my jaw, his touch soft. “Better?”
“Yeah,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “Much.”
I held on tighter instead, curling closer. Kit shifted his arm, wrapping it more securely around me. His scent filled my nose. Leather, cedar, something warm and faintly sweet.
After a while, I felt his breathing even out, slow and steady. He’d fallen half-asleep, fingers still tangled in my hair. I stayed where I was, too afraid to move, too afraid to wake him.
I’d faced death before, faced monsters, faced my own reflection and flinched. But this, this soft, and impossible peace, terrified me. Because I wanted more.
I wanted mornings where he’d still be here when I was about to sleep for the day. I wanted laughter that didn’t end in fear. I wanted nights where I didn’t need to worry about the sound of footsteps outside.
But that was asking for the impossible. Right?
I tilted my head up slightly, watching Kit through half-lidded eyes. His face was relaxed, the firelight painting gold across his skin. I memorized every line, every freckle, every breath.
If this was all I could have, these stolen and fragile moments, I’d take them. Even if they ended tomorrow.
Another movie had ended, but I didn’t move. I stayed there, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat echo in my bones.
15
KIT
The Black Dogwas loud that night. Laughter and clinking glasses filled the air, the hum of cheap music vibrating through the warped floorboards.
The smell of beer, sweat, and fried food clung to the walls like a second skin. I sat at the corner table with my temporary team for the week, pretending to drink the whiskey in front of me.
The stuff burned all the way down, though I hadn’t had more than a sip. I was only here for appearances. Hunters liked their camaraderie, their late-night drinks after a successful job.
Apparently, now that Grayson had decided I was “doing better,” I had to start pretending I enjoyed the team spirit again.
