Page 19 of Another Curvy Girl and Grumpy Vamp

“It's a compromise. It’s a way to keep you safe. You didn't like when I bought out your rides. So…"

“Compromise?” I let out a humorless laugh, turning back to the sink. “This isn’t a compromise, Baden. This is you trying to cage me.”

“Merri. Try to understand. If something happened to you…” His voice trails off, but the weight of his words. “I wouldn’t survive it. You are…everything.” He wraps his arms around me pulling my back to his front. "I don't know how we got here. But here we are. I can't lose you. I wouldn't take the Luca way.But the havoc I would wreck on this world— wouldn't be soft or easy."

I yank out of his arms. “If you do, that's not on me." I hiss. "This is the type of bull shit guilt trip my dad gives my mother. But if I’m everything, then youhaveto trust me. You can’t control every detail of my life just because you're scared of me living it.”

His face shutters, that mask of stoic composure slipping back into place as he processes my words. “If I trust you,” he says slowly, each word low and guarded, “what if that trust leads to a mistake? One I can’t...” He trails off as if he can’t bear to finish.

“I guess that’s a risk you’re going to have to take,” I whisper, steeling myself. “Because I’m not giving up my life for you or anyone else. Not even to be your One.’”

***

By the time I’m out the door and on my way to my ride-share shift, a mix of guilt, anger, and stubbornness churns in my chest. Part of me regrets how I left things, but another part of me knows it had to be said. He has to see that I’m not something he can lock away for his own peace of mind. I know this. I've seen what happens when a mateuses the mating bond to manipulate. It's a terrible thing to tie a mate to you with jealousy and guilt. But even as I know this: every block, street, mile away from him is gut wrenching. I don't want his tether but even without the bite I feel the cord that connects us. This should not happen.Does not happen, or it’s not often when the bond between potential mates is so strong they feel it before the bond finishes.

It's all the damn lovemaking. We spent the week living in each other's scent. Drowning in each other's sweat. Swapping fluids like middle schoolers trading Halloween candy. Greedily. Voraciously.

I'm so in my thoughts that I let my next passenger hop in my car without giving him my usual once over. Pick ups is female owned and friendly. Linda Sue started the business when she was a struggling single mom. Her son is autistic, and she needed flexibility in her schedule. Her rule is; if it doesn't feel right, keep driving. She has no problems with issuing a refund and she trusts our instincts. I watch my fare in the rearview and my gut churns.

He’s quiet, barely glancing at me, but there’s an edge to him that sets my nerves on end. Something in his expression, the way he shifts in his seat, sends warning signals up my spine. Shit. I've only refused a fare once—he should've been number two.

“Everything okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice light as we pull onto the quieter part of his requested route.

He nods but doesn’t say anything, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the windshield. The silence stretches, growing heavier, until finally, he clears his throat. “Pull over here,” he says, his tone far too calm for the way he’s looking at me.

I swallow, glancing at the darkened road where he’s pointing. “You sure? This doesn’t exactly look like the destination you mentioned.”

His lips curl in a slow, unsettling smile. “I said pull over.”

A rush of fear chills my veins, but I force myself to stay calm, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. I keep my tone casual, unbothered. “Actually, I think I’ll just take you to your destination. Company policy and all—”

His hand clamps down on my shoulder, his grip too tight, his fingers digging in painfully. My heart races, adrenaline flooding my system as I realize just how alone we are on this deserted stretch of road. The fear is paralyzing, all my bravado from earlier slipping away as his grip tightens. And then, without thinking, I focus every ounce of panic, every terrified thought, on one single word: "Baden." I push his name through the tendrilthat binds us. Forcing it along that thin thread with enough force to snap it. It shouldn't work. We're too new. Our bond is too fragile without the bite. But this guy is forcing me over to the side of the road. I try speeding up, but he wrenches my arm and if I don't stop, we'll crash. I have a better chance of fighting him off if I'm not injured. Our eyes lock in the mirror and my stomach rumbles, preparing to retch.

Before I can, there’s a shift outside the car. The door wrenches open, and in a blur of motion, my passenger is gone, ripped from the seat and tossed onto the ground as if he weighs nothing. Baden stands there, his face is mask of lethal calm. But his fangs have dropped, and his eyes have shifted. They are completely crimson. A ruby red blaze of fury as his gaze darts between me and the man crumpled on the asphalt.

The man scrambles backward, eyes wide with terror, correctly reading death in Baden’s cold, predatory stare. Without a word, Baden steps forward, the command in his stance enough to send the would-be attacker crawling away in a desperate attempt to escape. But there is no escaping Baden tonight… for either of us.

"Say the word," he growls to me with teeth and fangs. As he picks the guy up and shakes him like a ragdoll.

It takes a minute for his words to register and when they do, I shake my head and leap out of the car. "No, Baden, don't." I'm gripping his arm, but it doesn't budge an inch.

"Give me a reason," he says to me still holding the guy's neck while he dangles him over the pavement.

"Because you're better than this."

"Not even a little bit."

"Baden." I'm stumped. Because I kinda want to have a go at him myself. I was terrified. Still am. What if Baden hadn't gotten to me in time? Blood is dripping down Baden's arm as he waits for me to give him a reason to keep the guy alive. There's only one, "Because I said so."

"Fine," he says, releasing the guy who falls to the ground. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice is barely a whisper, but his intense gaze is anything but soft.

I nod, swallowing hard and burrowing into his arms. “How… how did you know?”

His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking as he hesitates, as if he’s weighing whether or not to answer. Finally, he says, “I felt you. Heard you. I can't explain it. I've never experienced anything like it before. It was like a string pulling me—an irresistible yank that drew me here.”

He says it so simply, but there’s nothing simple about the way he looks at me—like he’s both relieved and terrified. My hand tightens around his, grounding myself in his touch, letting the remnants of my fear melt away.

“So… that’s it?” I whisper. “You just… sensed me?”

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