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“H-Hi, I'm Ethan. Ethan Ward,” he stammered, pointing awkwardly toward the bar, trying not to stumble over his words. “I, uh..I was over there, and I saw you, and—I know it sounds cliché, but—” He paused, laughing through an exhaled breath. “I just—I just wanted to say hello.”

You idiot! The hell are you doing?

The silence was taut between them.

She didn’t speak, but her gaze continued to pierce through him, studying him with a strange curiosity that Ethan couldn't quite place.

Was there something on his face? God, who was he kidding? She probably thought he was an idiot after that. Ethan's stomach knotted. What was he even doing here?

Just as he was about to run away, fleeing to the safety of his apartment, her face shifted.

Smiling softly, the woman offered her hand, palm faced down, almost regal-like.

Ethan paused, unsure what to make of it.

Is she messing with me?

“Nice to meet you, Ethan Ward.” Her voice was silk, with an air of confidence that made the hair on his neck prickle. Time dragged on as her gaze flicked between her hand and his face, and Ethan could tell she was being serious.

He gently took her hand in his, her soft skin cool against his warmth. For a moment, he worried his palms were sweating, but he pushed the thought aside.

Ethan wasn't sure what she expected, so he did the only thing that came to mind.

A handshake.

The woman’s expression shifted from surprise to genuine amusement, and a smile spread across her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes as she giggled.

Ethan's heart fluttered at the sound, but he was too busy willing his cheeks to stop burning to appreciate it for long.

“I'm... Evel—” She paused, something flickering behind her eyes. “Evie. I'm Evie.”

Evie. Beautiful, stunning, Evie.

Ethan smiled. “Nice to meet you, Evie.”

The rest of the bar washed away—the noise, the people, the chaos. Ethan’s gaze held Evie’s as the warmth of the fireplace wrapped itself around them.

He couldn't hold back the smile spreading across his face. The tightness in his chest he’d been carrying for the past year—the weight that had followed him from New York—loosened, just a tiny bit. And for the first time in a long time, he didn't want to be anywhere else but right where he was.

Most nights, the darkness found me first. When the hunger called, I answered, and tonight was no different. The worst offenders always sought me out, and it’s not like there wasn’t any shortage of them floating around the city.

Tonight in particular, the deep tug in my chest guided me towards that very darkness I hated and craved all at the same time. Right to the front doors of The Gray Gull.

I took a seat towards the back of the bar, ensuring I had the best vantage point. Not so that I could see everyone, but so that they could see me. I’d been here once before, but tonight was extra crowded. The energy vibrated around me, voices of intoxicated Seattleites echoing off the walls. The oily sheen of darkness emanated from their bodies at varying levels.

With time and practice, I’d gotten better at tapping into its energy as I engaged with people. It didn’t take much: a long gaze into someone's eyes, a touch of their hand, or an accidental brushing against their skin—all of these allowed me to get a glimpse into the type of darkness that dwelled inside them.

Tonight was no different. Its effervescence engulfed the bar, practically suffocating the place. It swirled and undulated off their bodies as they stumbled over one another, the darkness spilling out of them just like the liquor in their glasses.

I could taste it in the air, metallic and sweet, seeping out from every person who walked through the doors. As my stomach knotted at the growing scent, I was reminded of Layne’s words about lingering too long after surfacing before feeding. I’d learned my lesson after Jake.

Ugh…Jake.

The memory was still fresh in my mind, and I grappled with the frustration of losing my only lead to Preston, along with the reverie I felt claiming a small piece of justice from his world.

My stomach needled at me, and I turned from the crowd, hiding my pained expression.

I wish I could just fucking exist for one night, I thought, shaking my head. I couldn’t always keep the feelings of longing for my old life away, especially when the hunger’s ache was strong enough to remind me of my new life’s limitations. I brushed the thoughts away, reminding myself that this was the price I'd paid.