My brain broke in half.
He mistook my silence for admiration. “You see? I have adapted. I am blending.” He nodded, looking smug as hell. “No cap.”
That did it. I lost it. Laughter racked my body. I couldn’t breathe. Wheezing, I doubled over. “Oh my god. Cristian—what—what are you even saying?”
He smiled wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling in genuine satisfaction. He looked so pleased with himself that my chest actually ached.
I leaned on the counter for balance. “Okay, okay, time out. What are you doing?”
He folded his arms, entirely unbothered. “You told me to adapt. I am adapting. The witch has taught me your modern speech.”
“The witch?”
He nodded toward Alexa. “She is powerful and cruel.”
I wiped at my eyes, still laughing. “You’ve been… practicing?”
“I have mastered it,” he said. Then, in a perfectly neutral American accent: “Would you like to vibe later?”
“How are you—what is happening?”
He gave a modest shrug. “Vampires learn quickly. We live for centuries. It is instinct to mimic new dialects and vocabulary to survive among mortals. I thought it was high time.”
I just stared at him as I tried to get my laughter under control. Because even with his disastrous attempt at slang and an accent that somehow made “yo, bitch” sound like a royal decree, he was still so infuriatingly magnetic.
I tried to breathe. It wasn’t working.
Finally able to speak, I stepped forward and cupped his face between my hands. “You cannot just scream profanities at people.”
His expression didn’t change. “So… two curse words per greeting?”
“Zero.”
“Moderation, then.”
“Cristian.”
He nodded gravely. “Understood.”
“Good.”
He tilted his head. “You are laughing.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I am.”
He smiled. “Then my efforts were not wasted.”
And damn it, my heart fucking fluttered. Again.
I turned before he could see it on my face. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m improving,” he said, as if that were the same thing.
I needed air. Or food. Or something that didn’t involve staring at Cristian’s stupid, perfect face.
I opened the fridge and started pulling things out: lettuce, cherry tomatoes, carrots, ranch, then grabbed the biggest knife I could find. Something about a knife felt grounding.
Cristian sat at the kitchen island. I didn’t look up, but I could feel the weight of his gaze. My pulse stuttered.
