Page 16 of Rescued By the Vexed Vampire

There was something in the way he said it—something that made my heart skip a beat. I swallowed, suddenly very aware of the closeness between us, the heat from his body radiating against mine. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken tension, and I realized just how close we were sitting.

Before I could stop myself, I looked up at him, and our eyes locked. His gaze was intense, searching, and I felt that familiar pull between us, the same magnetic energy I’d felt the night we’d first met. My breath caught in my throat, and I found myself leaning just a little closer.

Drake’s hand moved, his fingers brushing lightly against mine on the couch cushion. The touch was electric, sending a spark of heat straight through me. And then, before I could think twice, we were kissing.

It started slow, tentative, as if we were both testing the waters, but it quickly escalated. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer, and I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his hair. The world around us seemed to disappear, the failed spells, the books, the candles—all of it fading into the background as I lost myself in the sensation of his lips on mine.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was everything. The pent-up tension, the unspoken attraction, the complicated emotions we’d both been dancing around for days. It all came crashing together in that moment, and for a while, I forgot about everything else. I forgot that I was technically undead, forgot about the curse, forgot about trying to get into heaven again.

It was just me and Drake, together on my couch, the heat between us burning brighter with every touch.

His hands slid up my back, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake, and I found myself pressing closer, needing more, craving more. My heart raced, and for the first time since all of this started, I felt alive. Really alive.

We broke apart, both of us breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other as we tried to catch our breath.

“Bethany,” Drake whispered, his voice rough and low, sending a shiver down my spine. His forehead was pressed against mine, our breath mingling in the small space between us. I could still feel the imprint of his hands on my body, the warmth of his touch lingering like a brand on my skin.

I didn’t answer right away, still trying to steady my own breathing, my heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to remind me that, technically, I shouldn’t even have a heartbeat anymore. I shouldn’t be feeling this way—this alive—and yet, here I was, wrapped up in Drake’s arms.

“What are we doing?” I finally whispered, my voice barely audible as I pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes.

Drake didn’t answer immediately. His dark eyes searched mine, and there was a flicker of something there—something vulnerable, something raw—that made my stomach twist in knots. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “But I know I don’t want to stop.”

His confession hung between us, heavy and real, and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. I should want to stop. I should want to push him away and remind him—remind myself—of everything that was wrong with this situation. I was supposed to be angry at him for turning me into a vampire, for throwing my life into even more chaos than it was already in, for making everything so... complicated. But how could I be angry when every time he touched me, it felt like fire coursing through my veins? How could I be angry when, in his arms, I felt more connected to this world than I had in ages?

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered, my fingers still laced around his neck, even though every logical part of me screamed at me to let go.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing my temple in a soft, barely-there kiss. “Do what?”

“Be...whatever this is,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “With you. I mean, you turned me into this...this vampire. I’m supposed to hate you for that.”

Drake pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes again, his expression serious but not cold. There was something almost... tender about the way he looked at me. “I never wanted to hurt you, Bethany. You have to believe that.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “Then why did you?”

He hesitated, the words lingering on his lips before he finally spoke. “Because I was weak. You...you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. And that night, I lost control. I don’t know what it is about you, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

His admission hit me like a punch to the gut. Part of me wanted to be flattered—he had lost control because of me, because there was something about me that he couldn’t resist. But another part of me felt conflicted, knowing that his moment of weakness had changed my life forever. Except, hadn’t I done the same thing myself? How could I blame him when the truth was staring me right in the face?

For a moment, we just sat there in silence, the tension between us thick and palpable. The room was dimly lit and the candles had burned down to little more than stubs, casting a warm, flickering glow that softened the edges of everything around us, making the night feel almost surreal. Tears began to fill my eyes before I could stop them.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Drake said, gently cupping my cheek with his hand and meeting my gazes with his own. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

There was an earnestness in his voice that caught me off guard, and for the first time, I believed him. I believed that he truly regretted what had happened, that he wasn’t just saying the words to placate me.

I shifted slightly on the couch, pulling away from him just enough to create a little distance. “What if we can’t fix it?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “What if this is it? What if we’re stuck like this forever?”

Drake didn’t answer right away, his eyes searching mine. “Then I’ll help you live with it,” he said simply. “I’ll help you figure out how to make the best of it. I owe you that much.”

I looked at him, studying his face—the sharp lines of his jaw, the intensity in his dark eyes, the way his lips pressed into a thin line as he spoke. He was dangerous, yes. Complicated. But there was also something else. Something that made me trust him, even when I didn’t want to.

“Okay,” I whispered, the word slipping out before I could second-guess it.

Drake nodded, and the tension between us shifted, softening into something different—something that felt less like desperation and more like understanding. I wasn’t alone in this, and neither was he.

Without another word, he leaned in again, his lips brushing mine in a slow, lingering kiss. It was different this time—less urgent, more careful. Like we were both acknowledging the weight of everything that had happened between us, but choosing to let it go, just for a moment.

I sighed into the kiss, my body relaxing against his as his arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer. The heat between us flared again, and I lost myself in the sensation of his handson my skin, the way his touch made me forget about everything else.

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