Cutting my drills short, I skate off the ice with angry strides and shaking hands, pulling my sweatshirt on and yanking my blades off with little to no finesse.
Alyssa would probably laugh if she were here—probably tell me I’m the weird one, not the hockey guys, and that I’m letting them get to me too much. Hell, she’d probably encourage me to go to the private event thing with Holland on Fridayandbook angry sex with Rook on Saturday, but none of that is even remotely me.
It’s a little after nine when I’m stepping out of the rink, my bag slung over my shoulder and a crease in my forehead fromoveranalysis, and the parking lot is expectedly quiet at this time of night.
I walk toward my Civic that’s parked toward the back of the lot, but pull to an abrupt stop when something throws a wrench in the plan.
Oh, comeon. You havegotto be kidding me.
Rook
I fucking hate this shit.
I hate that whatever this thing is can drag me across town without asking. Hate that I let it. Hate that I can’t fight harder against it.
By the time I pulled into the rink’s lot, I already knew she was here. That is, after all, what brought me here after I left Kane’s place—my body choosing the direction with a swift turn of my steering wheel before my brain could weigh in.
And now, I’m still here, skulking in the dark like some kind of stalker.
Kylie Moon is halfway across the asphalt of the dark parking lot, keys in hand, bag slung over her shoulder, posture loose in the way of someone who still believes the night is normal. She doesn’t notice the sound at first, but that’s what makes her human. She’s built for softness, for love, for life; I’m built for awareness, for speed, for execution.
We are opposites, and yet, at an intrinsic level, we are one.
A slow bleed leaks air from her tire, and a soft hiss fills the otherwise frigid night air, audible exclusively to my sensitive ears. I’m no match for Cal, who can probably hear this shit from his couch, but my hearing, in comparison to Kylie’s, is undeniably advanced.
And so is my vision. Even from here, I can see the puncture in her tire isn’t from a rock or road debris.As suspected, this was intentional, and that means someone meant it as a trap.Anger chokes me as my vision tunnels to Kylie and her immediate surroundings.
Her brown hair is pulled into one of those messy knots she always has when she skates, a few loose strands catching the light from the moon as she walks, and her bright, entrancing blue eyes scan the lot as she holds her keys tightly in her hand. She’s on edge, I can feel it in my bones, and a surge of pride for her survival instinct overwhelms me.
Humans aren’t born into a perfect world any more than we are—but the societal expectations are different.Trust easy, be kind, give the benefit of the doubt—they live within a golden rule to treat others the way they’d like to be treated.
Vampire code is harsher but, in a lot of ways, a hell of a lot less complex.Trust is earned. Kindness is reserved. There are no benefits—only doubts.
We care for those who care for us, and beyond that, everyone else is a threat. Connection is weakness, and for me, Kylie Moon is my biggest fucking liability.
She isn’t polished or curated, but her beauty is there in every innocent facet of her being and taking up space like there isn’t a seedy world thinking it can decide who she belongs to.
I didn’t come here with the intention of intervening.
I came here because I’m clearly fucking powerless against this thing I didn’t choose.
Something instinctual tightens low and harsh in my chest. The need to protect it—to protect her—runs all the way to my roots. My muscles coil, focus narrowing, everything in me snapping toward her like a compass needle whenhispresence overwhelms me.
Fuck.I grit my teeth.
Not expecting Holland to be here was naïve—and since being naïve is the last thing a man like me can stand to be, Iwill notbe it twice.
The slimefuck stands ten feet back from her car, leaning against a sedan that doesn’t belong to him, materialized out of nowhere from the thick, foggy air he’s pretending to breathe.
He looks down at the screen of his phone like he’s busy with something casual rather than lurking, but I know the whole scene is too goddamn scripted to be coincidence, and that the only reason I couldn’t see him earlier is because of his shielding. Two other guys linger near the trunk of the sedan, their faces masked in darkness, and a new level of rage boils every drop of blood inside me.
Fucking gofer-cronies.
Suddenly, the thing I overheard Holland say to Kylie inside the rink—the private event thing on Friday—hits differently.This isn’t curiosity—this is a test.A practice run for the main event.
My body buzzes as I push myself into her space both mentally and physically, eating at the asphalt between us two stride-lengths at a time.
She sees the tire for the first time as she’s unlocking her door, and confusion and panic render her body motionless. Holland is fast, but I’m faster as I dominate the space in front of her, crouching at the tire.
