Page 15 of Another Curvy Girl and Grumpy Vamp

The honesty in his voice—quiet, raw—hits me harder than I expected. I hate that he’s right. I do feel something. The maddening pull, the way he gets under my skin, the way his voice sometimes makes me forget my own damn name. But I’ve seen possessive, and I’ve seen unbreakable bonds. My parents are living proof of both.

I don’t get a chance to respond because just then, the doorbell rings, signaling the arrival of our takeout. Baden rises to get it, and I find myself exhaling a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

While he’s busy at the door, I force myself to breathe, to push back the jumble of emotions swirling around in my chest. He’sstanding right there, close enough to touch, and yet… he feels miles away. This isn’t something I ever thought I’d be dealing with. An overprotective vampire, and a claim he says he’d give anything to ignore.

He returns with the takeout bags, setting them down on the table with quiet precision. I unpack the food, grateful for the distraction, but when he sits down again, his gaze is unwavering. We eat in silence for a few minutes, both of us lost in thought, until finally, he breaks it.

“Merri, this… bond… it’s not a game. It’s not something I just ignore.” He leans back, regarding me with a sincerity that unnerves me. “But that doesn’t mean I expect you to feel the same. This is your choice.”

I poke at my food, mulling over his words. It’s too much, too intense, and yet… there’s something oddly freeing in his honesty. “So, what happens if I say no?”

“Then we both move on,” he says, his voice steady. “Or try to.”

The idea of moving on, of letting this connection—whatever it is—fade into nothing, doesn’t sit as comfortably as it should. I shake my head, trying to clear the muddled thoughts. “I don’t even know where to start with this, Baden. My life isn’t exactly set up for… forwhatever this is.”

He smiles faintly, the barest hint of something vulnerable dampens his eyes. “Neither is mine.”

The weight of his words settles between us, heavy and filled with unspoken possibilities. There’s a calmness in his gaze, a rare stillness that’s at odds with the usual intensity he exudes. And maybe that’s what gets to me—the realization that, beneath all the possessiveness and protectiveness, there’s a part of him that’s just as lost in this as I am.

I push my plate away, leaning back in my chair. “Alright,” I say finally. “Let’s try and be… normal about this, or as close to normal as we can get.”

His brow quirks, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “Define normal.”

“Normal,” I say, drumming my fingers on the table, “is figuring things out without the melodrama and declarations and—” I gesture to the charred remnants in the trash. “Without burning down the kitchen.”

He lets out a low chuckle. “Noted.”

The tension between us lightens, giving way to a strange, fragile comfort. I’m not sure how we got here, or where this is heading, but for the first time since this whole ordeal started, I can breathe again.

“So… I do have a surprise for you,” he says, breaking the silence.

My eyes narrow. “What?”

“Although it’s not my cup of tea.”

“Right, you prefer the bloody kind.”

“Hilarious,” he says drolly. “I brought one of your game machine things. I thought you might enjoy giving me another go round.”

“Another chance to lose, you mean? Sure, why not?” I grin, feeling a spark of mischief creep in. “Definitely. You might even learn a thing or two about handling yourself in combat.”

The challenge in his gaze flares, and he smirks. “Is that so?”

“Only one way to find out.” I follow him into a cozy den with enough electronic equipment and video games to fill Silicon Valley. I swallow and try not to orgasm. Playing it cool, I say, “Prepare to get annihilated.”

***

An hour later, we’re sitting side by side on his plush couch, controllers in hand, leaping and kicking, fighting to our TV deaths. To my surprise, he’s not half-bad, though he’s lost everyround so far. He curses softly under his breath, squinting at the movie-theater-sized screen as if sheer willpower alone might help him win.

“You sure you’re a vampire?” I tease, landing another blow that sends his character flying. “You’re moving more like a human.”

He huffs, exasperated. “I trained for real combat, not… this.”

“Oh, so you’re just blaming the medium? That’s cute.” I nudge him, laughter bubbling up, and to my surprise, he laughs too—a real, deep laugh that transforms his whole face. It’s disarming, and I find myself leaning into him without even realizing it.

We fall silent, my shoulder brushing against his. I feel his warmth, his presence, every inch of him somehow amplifying the pull between us. I look up, catching his gaze, and the laughter fades, replaced by something else, something heavier and undeniably magnetic.

His hand comes up, brushingmy cheek, lingering a beat too long. My pulse races, and his breath paints my skin, warm and close. I tilt my head, eyes flicking to his lips as the world around us fades, leaving only this fragile, potent connection.

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