Page 12 of Take Her to the Grave

"And what do you want, little ghost?"

"You." The word comes out before I can stop it, raw with truth. "The darkness. The monster. All of it."

Something wild and hungry flashes across his face. Then he bends down and kisses me – not the savage claiming of before, but something slower, more deliberate. I taste power on his tongue, ancient and intoxicating. My hands come up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as heat builds between us.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are glowing with supernatural light. "Your blood is singing," he murmurs. "I can hear it calling to me,beggingto be tasted."

Instead of frightening me, his words send fire through my veins. "Then taste it."

His laugh is low and rich. "Not yet, little ghost. First, you need to understand exactly what you're offering. What it means to give yourself to someonelike me."

He leads me to one of the leather chairs, settling me into it before taking his own seat across from me. The firelight plays across his features, making him look both more and less human.

"Ask your questions," he says. "All the ones I can see burning behind your eyes. You're a writer – you need to understand the story you're walking into."

He's right. For all my growing comfort with darkness, there's still so much I don't know. So much I need to understand before I can fully commit to this path.

"How old are you really?"

"Three hundred and forty-seven years," he answers without hesitation. "I was turned in 1677, during a great war."

"Were you a soldier?"

"A nobleman. The second son of a minor French comte, sent to negotiate treaties and instead finding eternal night." His smile is bitter-sweet. "The vampire who turned me was... less gentle than I'm being with you. Less interested in consent."

The implications make me shiver. "Is that why you're giving me a choice? Because you didn't have one?"

"Partially. But also because willing surrender is so much sweeter than forced submission. Because Iwantyou to choose this – choose me – with your eyes wide open to what it means. I don’t want you to have regrets fifty years down the road."

"And what does it mean? What happens if I say yes to everything you're offering?"

His expression grows serious. "Pain.Pleasure. Death and rebirth. The end of everything you are now, and the beginning of something more powerful than you can imagine."

"Would I…,” I trail off, lessing my voice drop lower. “Would I have to kill people?"

"To feed? No. Not unless you want to. There are other ways to sustain ourselves. But make no mistake – you would be a predator. You would hunt. You would need to embrace everything you’d become. Darkness and all."

I consider this, trying to imagine myself as a creature of shadow and hunger. To my surprise, the image doesn't disturb me as much as I know it should.

"What about my work? My writing?"

"You could continue, if you wish. Many of our kind maintain human facades – it makes hunting easier. But your words would change, become darker still. Thestories you write would be born of true pitch-black, not just imagination."

"Like they already are," I murmur, thinking of my recent pages.

"Yes." His grin gives me a glimpse of his sharp fangs. "You're already changing, little ghost. Already becoming something new. The only question is whether you'll embrace it fully or try to fight it."

"And if I fight it?"

"Then I walk away. Leave you to your safe, mortal life and fictional monsters." His eyes burn into mine. "But we both know that's not what you want. Not anymore."

He's right. The thought of going back to my old life, of pretending none of this happened, feels impossible now. Like trying to return to childhood after glimpsing adulthood's corrupt truths.

"What happens next?" I ask softly.

"Next?" He leans forward, predatory intent clear in every line of his body. "Next, I continue pursuing you. Continue nudging you toward the edge where light ends and darkness begins. And when you're finally ready – when you'redesperatefor it, when you're willing to give up everything for just one taste of true night – that's when I'll make you mine forever."

"How will you know when I'm ready?"

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