Page 20 of Vargan

I don't respond. I can't. I'm frozen, watching his face in the flashes of lightning—concentrated, concerned. When was the last time someone took care of me like this? Not since my mother, certainly not Royce. I've patched up countless cuts and scrapes for Willie, for my father before he died, even for customers at the diner.

But no one does this for me. I'm the one who takes care of others.

"I can't remember the last time someone helped me," I whisper, the words escaping before I can stop them. "I'm always the one picking up the pieces."

Vargan's eyes lift to mine, something fierce and tender in their amber depths. "You don't have to do everything alone, Savvy."

"I do," I insist, my voice breaking. "Everyone I love either leaves or lets me down. It's easier not to need anyone."

"Is it?" he asks softly.

I shake my head, tears threatening. "No. It's exhausting."

His free hand moves to my face, tusks gleaming in the darkness as he gently brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. The touch sends electricity down my spine, making me shiver.

"You're the strongest human I've ever met," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "But even the strongest warriors need someone to watch their back sometimes."

I lean forward, drawn to him by something I can't name or resist. His hand slides to cup my cheek, thumb stroking my skin with impossible gentleness. The air between us feels charged, electric like the storm outside. I close my eyes, my heart hammering as I feel his breath warm against my lips.

For one suspended moment, I think he's going to kiss me. I want him to—with an intensity that scares me.

But then his hand falls away. When I open my eyes, he's standing, conflict evident in every line of his body. His eyes still glow in the darkness, fixed on me with a mixture of longing and regret.

"I can't," he says, his voice tight with restraint. "You don't understand what I am, what I've done—"

"I do," I say, rising to my feet, leaving the bloodied towel on the chair. "You think you're the only one who's done things they regret? Who's had to make impossible choices?"

"It's different," he insists. "My kind—we have something inside us. A beast. When it takes over—" He shakes his head. "I fight it every day. But sometimes I lose. And when I do, people get hurt."

"You think I'm afraid of you?" I demand, moving closer until we're inches apart, my head tilted back to look up at him. "After everything I've been through, you think I could ever be afraid of someone as gentle as you?"

"You should be afraid," he growls, but he doesn't back away.

"Well, I'm not." The words come out with more force than I intended. "I'm tired of being afraid, Vargan. I'm tired of pushing people away because it's safer. I'm tired of—"

He cuts me off, not with words, but by closing the distance between us. His mouth finds mine in the darkness, tentative at first, then with growing confidence as I respond. His tusks press lightly against my cheeks, strange but not unpleasant. His hand cradles the back of my head, careful, so careful, as if I might break.

I've been kissed before, but not like this—not with this combination of restraint and hunger, of power held deliberately in check. I press closer, my uninjured hand sliding up his chest to the nape of his neck where his hair is still damp from the rain.

The kiss deepens, and I feel something inside me crack open—a door I thought I'd sealed forever, letting in light and air and danger.

Vargan pulls back suddenly, his breathing ragged. "I'm sorry," he says, stepping away from me like I've hurt him. "I shouldn't have done that."

The rejection stings. "Why? Because I'm human? Because I'm not worth the trouble?"

"Because I'm leaving!" he snaps, frustration evident in his voice. "Because in a few days, I'll be across the border, and you'll still be here facing Victor and Royce alone!" He runs a hand through his hair, agitated. "I can't start something I can't finish, Savvy. I won't do that to you."

The truth of his words hits harder than any lie. He's right—he's leaving. And I'll be here, just like always.

"I know," I say quietly, wrapping my arms around myself. "You're right."

The lights flicker back on, illuminating the kitchen and the space between us—wider now than it was before. We stare at each other, the moment broken, reality rushing back in.

"I'll be in the garage until late," Vargan says, his voice carefully controlled. "Don't wait up."

He turns and walks out the door, closing it gently behind him.

I stand in the suddenly bright kitchen, my cut hand throbbing, my lips still warm from his kiss. The empty house feels emptier now, knowing what it's like to not be alone, even for a moment.

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