Page 9 of Take Her to the Grave

"Both," I admit. "Does that please you?"

His smile is sin incarnate. "More than you know. The combination is... intoxicating."

We dance in silence for a moment, my mind whirling with the unreality of it all. Here I am, waltzing through a graveyard with a vampire, feeling more alive than I ever have before. What does that say about me?

It says you're finally being honest with yourself,that dark voice whispers.Finally admitting what you've always known deep down inside of your soul – that you belong to the shadows.

"What are you thinking?" Torrin asks, pulling me from my reverie.

"I'm thinking that I should be horrified by all of this. By you, by myself, by how right this feels." I look up into those seemingly glowing eyes. "But I'm not. And that should frighten me more than anything."

"The darkness has always been part of you, Elena. I saw it the first time I watched you here, mourningyour dead. Such beautiful grief, such exquisite pain – but underneath it all, there was something else. Something that called to the monster in me."

"How long?" I ask. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Since the first anniversary of your parents' death. You wore black, as you do now, but there was a red rose in your hair. You spoke to their graves for hours, telling them about your first published novel." His hand tightens on my waist. "I read it that very night. Every word you'd written, every dark fantasy you'd poured onto those pages. I knew then that you were mine."

The possessiveness in his voice should repel me. Instead, it sends heat coursing through my veins."You could have taken me then. Why wait all these years?"

"Because true possession isn't about force, little ghost. It's about surrender. Willing, complete, irrevocable surrender." His face lowers to my neck, inhaling deeply. "And you're not quite ready to surrender completely. Notyet."

"What makes you so sure?"

He chuckles softly against my skin, forcing a shiver down my spine. "Because part of you is still fighting this. Still trying to rationalize, to maintain control. Still telling yourself this is just research for your next book."

I want to deny it, but he's right. Even now, part of my mind is taking notes, thinking about how to translate this experience into fiction. Using art as a shield against reality.

"Tell me something true," he commands suddenly, stopping our dance. "Something you've never admitted to anyone, including yourself."

I close my eyes, letting the answer rise from that dark place inside me. "Sometimes... sometimes I think my parents' death was a gift. Not because I wanted them gone, but because their loss showed me something about myself. Something dark and hungry that had always been there, waiting."

"And what was that something?"

"That I understand death better than life. That I'm more comfortable in graveyards than at parties. That all my best writing comes from the shadows." I open my eyes to find him watching me intently. "That maybe I was always meant for this. For darkness. Foryou."

The confession hangs in the air between us, more intimate than any physical touch. For a long moment, neither of us moves.

Then Torrin's hand slides into my hair, gripping firmly. "Say it again," he growls. "The last part."

"I was meant for this," I whisper. "For darkness. For you."

His eyes flare with supernatural light, and suddenly his mouth is on mine. The kiss is savage, claiming, full of teeth and darkness and promise. I taste blood – my own, from where his fang has pricked my lip – and the metallic sweetness makes me moan.

He pulls back just as suddenly, leaving me gasping. His eyes fix on the drop of blood welling on my lower lip with naked hunger.

"Soon," he promises, his voice rough with restraint. "Very soon, little ghost. But not tonight."

"Why?" I demand, frustrated beyond reason. "Why do you keep pulling back?"

His smile is all predator. "Because the hunt isn't over yet. Because part of you is still holding back, still afraid to fully embrace what you're becoming. And because..." He leans in, lips brushing my ear. "When I finally take you completely, I want you desperate for it.Beggingfor it. Willing to give up everything – light, life, morality itself – just to belong to the darkness."

A whimper escapes me – fear or desire, and again, I'm not sure which. Likely both.

"Until then," he continues, stepping back, "keep writing your stories. Pour your darkness onto the page. Show memore of the monster inside you." His smile turns wicked. "Consider it foreplay."

Then he's gone, leaving me alone in the fog with my racing heart and bruised lips. I touch the small cut his fang left, already healing but still tender. The taste of blood lingers on my tongue, dark and sweet and forbidden.

What am I becoming?I wonder. But as I make my way back through the cemetery, I realize I'm not afraid of the answer anymore. Whatever darkness Torrin sees in me, whatever monster waits to be unleashed – I want to know it. Want to embrace it. Want tobecomeit.

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