Sure, I was lonely, but at least I wasn’t making questionable life choices every time a handsome man looked in my direction.
Now?
Now I apparently collect dangerous men like it’s a hobby.
I stop short in front of Fangerella’s Pizza.
The windows are still boarded up. The door is still chained shut. Disappointment settles heavily in my stomach.
Damn it.
My chest aches at the memory of Stark’s face when I slammed the door. The way I’d looked him right in the eye and chosen survival over that strange, magnetic pull. A smart choice. A necessary choice. And now, because of it, I might never see him again.
His dark eyes.
His deep voice.
The way he caught me whenever I stumbled, like I weighed absolutely nothing.
The impossible strength.
The impossible speed.
The impossible?—
My thoughts grind to a halt.
The nightmares haven't stopped.
Not since the attack.
Red eyes.
Fangs.
The sound of hissing.
I spent my lunch break searching the internet for answers.
Vampire.
The word had stared back at me from the screen.
Ridiculous.
Completely ridiculous.
Except it fits.
Which was incredibly inconvenient.
Because I’d much rather be having a nervous breakdown than discovering folklore might actually be real.
The strength.
The speed.
The eyes.
