Page 72 of A Touch of Darkness

He's not a regular vampire. Although, I suppose they could all be like him.

Broken and beautiful.

Damned.

But he’s just so different than what I thought of his kind.

Maybe that comes with his age, or maybe that’s just his humanity showing.

Either way, I can see why Seraphina loved him so recklessly, and why she was so devastated when he betrayed her, and part of me—somewhere deep down—feels for the woman I once was. But another part can understand and accept why he did it, too.

Because even now, all he wants to do is protect, to fix, to make things right, and I truly do believe that he wanted to protect Seraphina in that life as well. Just like he’s trying to do for me now.

The girls and I end up talking for hours as they catch me up on all the happenings around school, the guy Nicole is seeing, and how Rebecca has a crush on her “hot professor.”

Seems we both have a thing for hot professors…

By the time they leave, the sun is once again sinking on the horizon. Dorian and Lucian are still holed up in the den, and I’m beginning to worry—but if I know anything about Lucian, I know he has a handle on whatever it is.

I have nothing but time to ponder as Lucian hangs out with Dorian. I can’t help but think about where to go from here. I know the next step: losing my virginity to the man I’ve been trying to resist falling for. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t holding back due to my nervousness. I feel like it’s time, though. Before anyone else goes missing or ends up suspended somewhere in time like Lara.

Maybe by taking a stand but doing what’s right…maybe they’ll see that they can’t control everyone and everything.

Or maybe it will all burn to ashes at my feet.

The room is dim, bathed in the soft glow of flickering candles, their flames casting long, shuddering shadows against the stone walls. The scent of beeswax mingles with the faint, earthy scent of the old wood that makes up the bookshelves and furniture around me. I stand in the center of it all, my hands trembling slightly as I arrange the candles with more care than I’ve ever shown an inanimate object. Each wick, each flame, represents a small piece of the world I want to create tonight—one where everything is perfect for her.

Sylvie.

Her name hums in my chest like a secret, something whispered just for me. I’ve lived through centuries, taken countless lovers, but never once has anything felt as important as this. As her. The thought of what’s about to happen both terrifies and exhilarates me in equal measure. I have been dying for this moment, but I will eternally hate that it’s happening like this. That it isn’t one hundred percent her choice.

Her choosing me.

I glance around, reassessing my room, a space no woman—mortal or vampire—has seen. The bed is neat, the blood-red sheets smooth, but the atmosphere—it needs more. It needs her. The glow of the candles feels like a dream, soft and warm, wrapping us both in a cocoon of something that could be heaven if only for a moment. But until she is in here, it’s all empty. I’m empty.

I breathe deeply, my pulse quickening in anticipation. The quiet in the house feels heavier tonight, more oppressive somehow, like the air itself knows what’s coming. I want to trust Sylvie. And I do. But she will forever be in over her head with Solstice. They have time on their side, and she’s so young. She has so much to learn. I worry her plan will blow up in our faces, but I want to honor her wishes. I want to show her I will follow her—anywhere.

I run my fingers along the edge of the table, tracing the smooth curve of the glass. I pour wine into her crystal goblet with an almost reverent care. It’s the deep crimson of blood—dark, rich, as if it were made for this moment. I wonder if she will taste it the same way I do—through the layers of meaning, the careful construction of everything around her.

Everything tonight is for her.

For Sylvie. The woman I will never get enough of. That I will never get over.

My heart stutters, and I pause. I didn’t think I would be like this—nervous, almost—yet here I am, arranging and rearranging, worried that it won’t be enough. That I won’t be enough. The bond between us, once formed, will be something we both carry forever. And tonight, it will be sealed.

I sense her coming just before hearing the faintest sound—a soft knock against the door. It stirs something deep inside me, like the rustle of the earth before a natural disaster.

She’s here.

A flutter of heat rises up my spine. I take a moment to steady my breath, to still the nervousness that clutches at me with a gentleness I haven’t allowed myself in years.

A vulnerability I haven’t known in far too long.

“Sylvie,” I whisper, as the door creaks open slowly, revealing her in the doorway. My chest tightens at the sight of her—her silhouette framed by the dim light, the shape of her barely visible but enough to send my heart into a chaotic rhythm. She’s wearing nothing but a small piece of white fabric that barely covers her most intimate parts—and despite the restraint I’ve shown, I have little control in this moment. My cock grows painfully hard against the fabric of my slacks, and I have to discreetly adjust myself.

At first, I want to ask where she got the lingerie, but I know the girls brought some of her clothes from her dorm the other day. Neither of them is ever up to any good, so they probably did this on purpose.

Anger swells in my chest when I think about her wearing this for some random teenage boy back in Chicago.

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