Page 9 of Fang Girl

"Don't," he said sharply, squeezing my hand. "I hated when they called you that. I should have said something, should have stopped them. Instead, I just picked up your books when they knocked them down and cleaned the paint off your locker that time. Small acts of kindness when you deserved so much more."

I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

He grinned. “I have something I wanted to show you.”

“Oh?” I asked.

Victor stood and held out his hand. “You still love music, right?”

I nodded. In high school, I’d always had my earbuds in between classes, and the music as loud as I could make it. It helped drown out the ghosts and the humans. It was my peaceful place.

I followed him across the room to a small stage, and he gestured for me to sit in one of the front seats.

He got up on the stage, and sat on a high stool with a guitar. After tapping the mike a couple of times, he looked at me.

“I wrote this song for you,” he said, then he started strumming and singing,

“I see you in the shadows

Head down low with secrets to spare

Everyone's blind to what I can see

A light that's waiting to break free

Come step into the spotlight

Let the whole world know who you could be.”

When he sang to me, his voice wrapped around me like silk. The lyrics took on new meaning now—all those feelings he'd kept hidden in high school, all the times he'd wanted to reach out to me. Each word felt like a confession, and tears pricked my eyes. No one had ever seen me so clearly.

When he finished, I stared at him. “But this is a Nocturnals’ song…”

He grinned. “An early version.” He stood and set aside his guitar. Then he stepped down and pulled me to my feet. Pushing my hair out of my face, he said, “Homage to the girl I could never forget.”

"You really liked me that much?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He leaned his forehead against mine, and I could feel his breath on my lips. "I was a stupid, stupid boy." His hands came up to frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. The tenderness in his touch contrasted with the barely contained hunger in his eyes.

"I had a crush on you too," I admitted, sliding my hands up his chest. His heart beat strong and steady under my palm.

"Do you still?" His voice was rough with desire.

"Yes," I breathed, and the word had barely left my lips before he was kissing me.

This kiss was different from the one on stage—deeper, hungrier, with no audience to restrain us. One of his handstangled in my hair while the other pressed against my lower back, drawing me closer until I could feel every hard line of his body against mine. Each touch felt like he was memorizing me, like he'd been starving for this moment.

I gasped against his mouth as he picked me up and set me on a table. He nudged my knees apart, and slid between them. The coolness of his skin only made the heat between us more intense. When his lips trailed down my neck, I shivered—not from cold, but from the way his teeth grazed my skin. Every point of contact felt electric, like we were creating our own spotlight in the darkness.

"Ari," he breathed against my skin. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

I ran my fingers through his soft black hair, tugging him back up to my mouth. He groaned.

His tongue traced my bottom lip, seeking entrance, and I opened to him willingly. The kiss deepened, and I felt myself melting, all my usual anxieties and ghostly distractions fading away until there was nothing but Victor and this moment.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, his green eyes were dark with desire. He rested his forehead against mine again, his thumb stroking my cheek.

"Stay with me tonight," he whispered.

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