Page 10 of Vampire Bite

When I was sure she was steady, I gave the others a quick nod. “The plan stays. Same time.” I could tell they wanted to ask more, but they simply nodded, trusting I’d make sure she was alright.

Once we were outside, I kept close to her, keeping a hand on her arm as we moved through the streets. She was quiet, almost contemplative, and though she didn’t protest my help, I could tell she wanted to appear strong. I don’t think she realized that just made me want to protect her more.

As we reached my place, I led her inside, guiding her to sit down on the bed before she could protest. I kept my voice low, trying not to let any worry slip through. “Just rest for a minute and I’ll make us something to eat.”

She tried to protest, saying I didn’t need to bother, but I ignored her. She’d been through hell already, and there was something grounding about the simple act of cooking. It gave me something to focus on, something practical and concrete in the middle of all this chaos. I kept it simple—a stew I could pull together quickly with the odds and ends I had around. I hadn’t cooked for anyone in years, not like this. It felt… strange, almost intimate. But I didn’t mind.

When it was ready, I set the bowl in front of her, along with some bread I’d managed to keep fresh. She took a bite, her eyes lighting up a bit as she chewed. For a second, she just looked surprised, like she hadn’t expected me to be capable of something as ordinary as cooking. Then a small smile tugged at her lips.

“This is… really good,” she murmured, a hint of warmth in her voice. “Thank you.”

It was a simple compliment, but it landed deeper than it should have. I found myself smiling back, an ease settling in the space between us. She didn’t know it, but this small moment—her looking at me with something like trust, a small softnessin her expression—drew me in even more. I’d been drawn to her since the alley, since that first moment when she offered herself to save me. But this was different. This was her, real and unguarded, just the two of us sharing a quiet meal in the eye of a storm.

She met my gaze, a hint of something shy in her eyes, and I could tell she was feeling it too—that tension, the unspoken pull that had grown between us since the beginning. I didn’t want to break it, didn’t want to ruin this calm we’d carved out in the middle of everything. So I just nodded, keeping my tone even, letting the words come out simple.

“I’m glad you like it.”

She looked down, and I could see a faint blush coloring her cheeks. In this moment, with the firelight flickering softly around her, she looked peaceful—almost fragile. But I knew there was strength in her. She was resilient, courageous, even after everything she’d been through. And that only made her more captivating.

As we sat there, the quiet between us lingering like a blanket, I decided to ask her something that had been on my mind since she first walked into my life.

“Do you believe in soul mates?” The words slipped out before I could second-guess myself, a little rougher than I’d intended. I watched her face carefully, gauging her reaction. Maybe I was testing her; maybe I was trying to understand why she’d thrown herself into danger to save me without a second thought.

She let out a short laugh, a skeptical sound, raising an eyebrow as she looked at me like I’d asked if she believed in fairy tales. “Soul mates?” She shook her head, smiling a bit like she thought I was joking. “Not exactly something I’ve had time to think about. Besides… no. Not really.”

That response hit deeper than I wanted it to. Something about the way she said it, the finality in her voice. It was like she’d closed a door and locked it up tight, somewhere inside herself. I could sense a hint of something—bitterness, maybe, or the trace of a scar that hadn’t quite healed. Whatever it was, it told me she’d been hurt, and she’d learned not to expect too much from anyone.

“So you don’t believe there’s one person out there meant for you?” I asked, keeping my tone light, careful not to betray too much of what I felt.

She shrugged, looking down at her bowl as she pushed the spoon around absently. “I guess it’s… a nice idea. But life isn’t that simple, is it? People hurt each other. They leave. I don’t know.” Her voice softened, a bit distant, like she was looking back on something painful. “Even if soul mates existed, I’m not sure I’d want to believe in it. Sounds like setting yourself up for disappointment.”

I nodded, not saying anything for a moment. I wanted to tell her that it didn’t have to be like that, that maybe she was wrong, that I’d spent a lifetime keeping everyone at a distance only to feel drawn to her like she was the only one who could fill that empty space. But I held my tongue. She didn’t need more pressure, more weight to carry.

“Maybe it’s not about perfection,” I said quietly, more to myself than to her. “Maybe it’s about finding someone who makes you… better. Or maybe someone who just makes sense, even when nothing else does.”

She looked up at me, her expression softer now, curious. I could tell she was listening, maybe wondering why I was asking, maybe trying to piece together what I wasn’t saying.

“Yeah,” she replied, a trace of a smile tugging at her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe.”

I watched her for a moment, just her, taking in the curve of her face, the subtle vulnerability that slipped through her tough exterior, the strength and wariness mixed together. She didn’t believe in soul mates. And maybe it didn’t matter whether she did or not. I believed enough for the both of us.

Chapter Seven

Annika

I woke with a start, blinking into the darkness, feeling the weight of night pressing down in the small room. My eyes adjusted, and I saw him sleeping on a thin blanket spread out on the floor. His face looked softened in sleep, free of the usual intensity that haunted his waking hours. He seemed… peaceful, even vulnerable.

There was a sound outside the door—a low, steady rumbling, the familiar scratch of claws against wood. The wolves again. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise, but unlike the first time, fear didn’t flood through me. This time, there was something else. A heat building in my chest, something almost alive moving under my skin, as if it were tied to the scraping and growling on the other side.

Without really knowing why, I got up and walked to the door. The room was dim, but I could feel every shadow, every line and groove in the old wood. My fingertips brushed the rough surface, feeling the vibration of claws scraping against it, steady, relentless, like the wolves knew I was here, waiting for me. It was like they sensed me, could smell something on me. Or maybe it was me who could sense them, drawn in, something in me thrumming in answer.

My pulse quickened, and I could barely understand it; the feeling of strength coiling inside me, powerful and foreign. It felt wild, dark, and it terrified me even as I let it wash over me. I pressed my hand flat against the door, feeling the rumble against my palm, the steady beat of my own heart rising to match it. Theanimalistic hunger on the other side seemed to seep through the wood, like it was calling to something buried inside me.

I could feel the change within, something clawing to get out, something fierce. My breathing quickened, and I bit down on my lip, fighting it, holding onto what little control I had left. Every sense sharpened—the dampness of the air, the way the wolves’ claws scraped in rhythm, the scent of the dark wood beneath my hand. It all felt so intense, so raw, like I’d tapped into something more than human, something ancient.

A low growl slipped out from the other side, and I shivered, feeling the pull, the strange connection I couldn’t quite explain. It was like I knew them, could understand what they wanted, what they needed, almost as if that same need echoed in me.

“Annika… are you… alright?”

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