I focus on the knife again.
This is adaptation. That’s all this is. You’re adjusting to survive.
Of course my body is going to seek the strongest person in the room. It’s biology. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Be careful,” Kane whispers, and I look up to find him standing right beside me. But when I follow his line of sight, I realize the knife is way too close to my fingers.
“Shit,” I mutter and pull my hand back instinctively.
But Kane doesn’t smirk, and he doesn’t make a comment at my expense. Instead, he just steps behind me and wraps his arms around me to readjust my hands’ position on the knife and cutting board.
“There ya go,” he says. “Much safer.”
That steadiness of his body calms my heart to a slow and efficient rhythm.
Goodness, why does this man have such an effect on me?
Rook walks into the kitchen and murmurs something to Kylie under his breath, and she laughs softly. He brushes his thumb across her cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
She doesn’t look controlled.
She doesn’t look owned.
She looks…connected to him. Like he’s her prince and she’s in a fairy tale. Like her entire world revolves around him. And frankly, he looks at her the exact same way.
Was she telling me the truth? Does she know more than I do? I mean, look at her. Look at how happy she looks right now…
I swallow and glance back at the cutting board.
You’re romanticizing this, I argue with myself.This is a cabin in the middle of nowhere with three blue-collar vampire men who apparently kidnap women in their free time.
This is not supposed to be my destiny.
My destiny is New York. My destiny is theblood of the three. My destiny might’ve been Damien Snow.
My mom’s voice is in my head, telling me how important the bonding night is and how lucky I am and how special I am because of my bloodline.Being chosen is an honor,she’s said more times than I can count.Being chosen is your purpose.
But then Kane’s voice is in my ear,Because you’re not just something to me, Blair. You’re fucking everything. And I don’t want to own you. I just want you to want to be mine.
My hand tightens around the knife, and my mind churns and burns with what has to be the equivalent of an existential crisis.My parents wouldn’t raise me my entire life for something monstrous…would they?
No. Absolutely not. There’s no way they would do that.
Instead of getting lost inside the minefield that is my own head, I focus on the rhythm of the room instead. There’s no tension here. No one evaluating me or measuring my posture or tone. That absence feels strange. But more than that, it feelsright.
I glance at Kane again when he isn’t looking.
He’s talking to Calloway about something mundane.Supply runs. Gas mileage. Repairs.His jaw is strong. His expression focused. There’s no calculation in his eyes. No hunger.
When he looks at me, it’s not like how Damien did at the mixer.
Damien’s gaze lingered too long. It was clinical and assessing, and I didn’t feel it in the pool of my belly.
But Kane’s—
I look away before I finish that thought.
You’re rewriting things.I try to bring myself back to reality.This is what people do when they’re disoriented. You imprint on the nearest constant. It doesn’t mean he’s right. It doesn’t mean your entire life has been a lie. It just means you’re adapting.
