Page 35 of Hunger & Harmony

Full and bright, the moon shines on me gently. There’s not a single cloud in the way, and the stars twinkle like a sea of admirers surrounding her. Unlike Sunveil, there’s no light pollution; each constellation is perfectly visible. The cold is a little more bearable as I take it all in.

Impressions of a memory surface. A crackling fire battling the autumn air, and a moon like this one peeking through a canopy of gnarled branches. My parents always loved camping, way more than I ever did. Not that I had any choice when they decided the upcoming weekend would be spent in a forest.

I must’ve been fourteen or fifteen. Like always, I was sulking while failing to read by firelight. Anything to avoid my parents.

It felt so . . .boring. No music, whether from speakers or singing, was allowed. It was just us, the rustling leaves, and distant wildlife. I hated it. I made sure to hate it, at least. No choice and no escape from family time was a personal hell.

As I shiver under the stars, that’s not what returns. It’s the good moments. Hysterical laughter as marshmallows went from perfect to charred in mere seconds, learning the cards and beating my parents at their favorite games, and pointing out constellations or the rare owl sighting.

Maybe it wasn’t always as quiet as I thought. Not like right now. Fleeting as it was, there were good moments when I allowed them. Laughter, stories, and dad’s snoring, too.

Why am I thinking about this? I rub my hands along my arms, wondering if I’m gonna have to face the wrong notes again.

The moment that thought sours my peace, something wraps around me. A spiced vanilla and bourbon cover shields me from the cold, and I gasp when I realize a leather jacket engulfs my shoulders.

“Niko!” I quickly clap a hand over my mouth. “I-I mean, sir! No, uh . . .Your Majesty,” I mumble into my palm.

Like a shadow, he moves closer. Our previous troubles don’t matter as much when he holds up a flannel blanket. I can only watch in dumbfounded silence as he arranges it on the cold metal rooftop and then gestures for me to get on it.

After I ease onto the comfy blanket, I huddle into his jacket more. While I think he’d be cold to the touch, my own warmth is captured in his jacket and takes off that edge. If anything, I’m cozy as he takes his spot next to me.

I’m also a little flustered. That’s it? No comment, no explanation? My face feels red for an entirely new reason.

“Aren’t you mad?”

Wow. Did I seriously blurt that out to a man who just helped me?

My anxiety eases as a half-smile pulls at his lips. That’s the closest I’ve seen to a real one.

“I’m not doing this for your approval,” he says, and I raise my brows at him. “I’m avoiding the HR nightmare if you freeze to death up here.”

When he glances over at me, I swear, the moonlight reveals a dash of mischief in his eyes.

“Don’t tease me,” I whine, unable to help the laugh that follows.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, and for the first time, I sense something real in him. Normal, even.

Shouldn’t the silence be more awkward? It’s honestly not. When I sneak a glance, he’s staring up at the sky. His hair is pushed back by a headband, and a comfy ensemble of sweats, sneakers, and a t-shirt adds to that sense of ordinariness. Only the moonlight highlighting the red of his irises and the short fangs poking out when he opens his mouth, remind me that this is a king, not a camp crush.

“Warmer?” he asks.

I’m transfixed by him for too long, and when I forget to answer, he glances over at me. While I should look away, I don’t. I want to get lost in his eyes and know exactly why his presence is so calming, despite everything. What spell has he cast on me? It’s not his voice, so why am I stuck to him like honey?

“I’ll take your red face as a yes,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh.

“It’s the cold, actually,” I defend, gesturing to him. “Can’t you feel it?”

“Yes and no.”

He offers his arm to me, and I tentatively place my fingertips on him. While strong, his arm is pale as moonlight and colder than the night. A black crescent moon formed of swords, thorns, and stars is tattooed onto his inner forearm, but I don’t dare let my fingers near it. After I’ve confirmed his wintry temperature, I pull away.

“Both high heat and freezing cold don’t bother me. As long as there’s no daylight to weaken me, I can withstand any temperature.”

“Lucky,” I say. “Is there even a downside to being a vampire?”

I stiffen. What a dumb comment to make when we just barely escaped Gravemont!

He doesn’t miss a beat.