And I know this as surely as I know I’m a vampire. With any other human, the hunt sings in my veins. With her, something else rises—a need that quiets the thirst. Her blood, her scent... it calls to a part of me I thought was ash.
I want more than just her blood.
I want her heart too.
Which is absurd.
Impossible.
I’m a bloodthirsty monster, after all. Not some storybook prince.
One without a heartbeat.
And yet—a beat. Mine. A strange, phantom thud echoing in time with hers, a pulse where there should only be silence.
Making me feel more human than I have in decades.
Mind made up, I will find my little flower and tell her everything.
I will answer her every question and earn her trust. And hopefully she will allow me to remain in her orbit, even if it’s just for a short while. I shall count myself lucky.
I turn toward the bedroom, my resolve hardening into a plan, but Stark is already there, emerging from the doorway as if summoned by my disobedience.
Daisy is resting. Do not wake her and do not let her leave until I return.
What happened, Boss? What’s the plan now?
In a rare show of hesitation, Stark pauses, his eyes dropping for half a second before meeting mine again.
That hesitation—Stark does not hesitate.
Seems I'm not the only vampire acting strangely since meeting Kallie.
She… did not handle vampire speed very well. We both needed a clean up once we got here.
Her name is a magnet. My gaze finds her in the bedroom, a small shape lost in the vastness of the bed, the slow, peaceful rhythm of her breath a quiet counterpoint to the silence.
“She’s different, Boss.” I speak the words aloud, and it feels right to give them sound, to let their weight settle between us. “She’s not like everyone else. She’s…” The words fail me.
I fall silent, but Stark’s expression gives nothing away. He already knows.
He nods in response, headed to the door.
“And that’s why you must keep watch while I go beat some answers out of a particularly troublesome leech.”
It’s my turn to nod. “There are two more waiting outside. I couldn’t deal with them on my way in.”
He responds with a growl and flies out the door at high speed, shutting it so softly it doesn’t click.
Soft breaths drift from the bedroom. In the kitchen, Bruno laps at water. And from a chair in the corner comes the tiny, persistent scratching of a kitten's claws.
A smirk pulls at my lips. I picture Stark’s face when he finds the shredded velvet of his armchair—the quiet fury, the utter inability to blame the creature that reminds him of her.
I briefly consider chastising the kitten, but decide Stark can deal with the consequences. He’s the one who brought the small menace home.
Seems the Boss quite likes furry creatures too. Especially ones that remind him of Kallie.
I chuckle under my breath but get interrupted when the steady breathing coming from the bedroom changes, a soft gasp and groan punctuating the rustling of the bed sheets.
