He raised a brow. “A term of endearment, I presume?”
“Only when I say it.”
His laugh was low and real, the kind that didn’t sound practiced.
Below us, the harbor lights danced on the water. I felt the tether hum again, a quiet vibration under my skin, pulling me toward him. It wasn’t dramatic or mystical anymore. Instead, it was like my nervous system finally knew peace.
Maybe this was what safety felt like. Maybe this was what falling in love could look like—two people learning how to exist in the same quiet space without losing themselves.
Cristian caught me watching him. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” I said, smiling. “Just… this is nice.”
He nodded slowly, eyes never leaving mine. “It is rare, isn’t it? This feeling. Peace.”
“Yeah, it really is.”
We left hand in hand. The city buzzed around us—honking cars, laughter, streetlights—but it all blurred.
For once, my brain wasn’t racing ahead or rewinding behind.
I was here. In the present. With him.
And I thought, maybe this was what real love felt like—messy, improbable, inconveniently timed, but utterly alive.
Chapter 20
Cristian
Iwoke before she did.
The room was quiet except for the faint ticking of the clock and the sound of her steady breathing. Morning light crept across the bed, gilding the curve of her shoulder, the stray strands of hair against her cheek.
She looked nothing like the women I once knew and entertained. No powdered wigs or painted lips. Just soft skin that was dewy in the sleep-warmed air, and a serenity I didn’t deserve.
I watched her for a while, trying to make sense of what she’d done to me. How had she made a creature like me feel human again?
Eventually, I forced myself to move. A proper suitor, I decided, would make her a meal. It would show my devotion. My competence.
It could not be difficult. Men had done so for centuries.
The kitchen disagreed.
The small blinking box on the counter glared at me in defiance. I glared back. “Heat thyself, cursed box,” I commanded.
It did not obey.
Fine. The stove, then. A machine with honest fire. I turned a knob. Nothing happened. I turned another. Blue flame burst forth from a different burner entirely, licking at the edge of a towel.
I stared, uncertain whether to retreat or attack.
Lena entered just as the towel ignited. She didn’t even flinch. She sipped her coffee, pointed the sink sprayer at the flames, and extinguished them with surgical boredom. I placed the pan on the burner and cracked eggs into it
“Morning, lover vamp.”
I scowled. “Your modern contraptions are treacherous.”
Smirking, she leaned against the counter. “You’re really in love, huh?”
