Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
DONOVAN
The world drifted in and out, a hazy blur of light and shadow. I floated somewhere between wakefulness and unconsciousness, caught in a restless, feverish limbo.
My body felt heavy, my limbs weighed down as if I had been sinking into the earth for days.
The pain came in dull waves, sometimes a sharp, pulsing throb in my arm, sometimes a deep ache that settled in my bones.
Through the fog, I caught flashes of reality. Moments of clarity that were gone as quickly as they came. And in those moments, I saw Declan. He was always there.
I would wake just enough to register his presence.
The restless pacing of his long strides, the growl he made when he ran a hand through his dark hair, the tension that clung to his frame like a storm about to break.
Other times, he was still, sitting stiffly in the chair across from the bed, watching me with an unreadable expression.
His eyes, so familiar yet different now, never strayed far from me.
I couldn’t tell if he was studying me, waiting for me to wake, or just making sure I was still breathing. Relief washed over me every time I saw him.
Because for a terrifying moment, when I was slipping in and out of sleep, I thought he was gone.
That he had left. That I had made my choice, risked everything to keep him alive, only to wake up alone. The thought of never seeing him again…
Of losing him after everything we’d been through…It made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t explain.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed, hours, maybe days, but in the moments I was awake, my thoughts became tangled, looping in circles that I couldn’t escape.
What happens now?
The question echoed in my mind, looping over and over like a curse I couldn’t shake. There was no going back to the Guild. That much was obvious.
The second they found out what I had done, that I let Declan turn, that I didn’t drive a blade through his heart before it was too late, they would come for him.
And for me.
They wouldn’t hesitate. There would be no deliberation, no hesitation, no mercy. The Guild had never been about mercy.
It didn’t matter that Declan had begged me to end him before the change took hold.
That he had looked me in the eyes, voice raw and broken, and pleaded for a death I couldn’t give him.
No. They wouldn’t care about any of that. They would see my hesitation as weakness. They would see my choice as betrayal and they would brand me a traitor for it.
Maybe they already had.
Maybe, the second I failed to report back, the second I disappeared without a trace, my name had been carved onto the Guild’s list of the condemned.
A hunter turned fugitive. A mistake that needed to be erased. Not that I cared but I should have.
I should have felt a deep, gut-wrenching fear at the thought of my former comrades hunting me down like prey.
At the knowledge that the people I once fought beside would now see me as nothing more than a loose end to be dealt with.
But I felt nothing. Because my loyalty to the Guild had died whenI lost both my brothers and in its place, all that remained was a hollow ache.
A part of me liked to think Asher and Finn were still out there, somewhere.
That they had managed to carve out a life for themselves. One without blood, without orders, without the weight of the Guild pressing down on their shoulders.
Maybe that was wishful thinking.
Maybe they were both dead, their bodies left to rot in some unmarked grave, and I was just fooling myself by pretending otherwise. But I couldn’t let myself believe that.
I wouldn’t. Because if they were still alive, it meant they had escaped. It meant they had broken free, that they had found something beyond the endless cycle of kill or be killed.
I used to be so angry at them for choosing their vampire lovers over family, but now?
Now, that anger was just a dull throb, a barely-there ghost of an old wound. Maybe I had never really been mad at them in the first place. Maybe I had just been scared.
Scared of being left behind. Scared of being alone.
But I wasn’t alone.
Not really. Because I still had Declan and no matter what happened next, no matter what hell awaited us, I wasn’t letting him go.
A low moan slipped past my lips before I could stop it. The sound startled me, like it had come from someone else entirely.
I barely had time to process it before I realized Declan had stopped pacing.
He was close now. Too close. Leaning over me, his dark eyes searching my face, his touch gentle as he pressed the back of his hand to my forehead.
Checking for fever. Checking my vitals.
He looked worried. It shouldn’t have made my stomach flip the way it did but it did.
“How are you feeling, Donovan?” he asked, voice quieter than usual, softer.
There was something in it, something thick and heavy, something I wasn’t sure I was ready to name. My throat was dry.
My body ached like I had been hit by a truck and then run over for good measure.
But none of that mattered. Not when he was this close. Not when his presence was an anchor, keeping me from drifting back into the darkness.
I swallowed, forcing my voice to work. “Like shit,” I rasped.
Declan huffed out a quiet laugh. But it didn’t reach his eyes.
Something clenched in my chest at the sight. His expression was all wrong, too guarded, too tense and I hated it.
I wanted to see the cocky smirk, the exasperated eye roll, the amused shake of his head when I pissed him off but those things felt so far away now.
“Water,” I whispered after a few seconds, my tongue thick and useless in my mouth.
Declan blinked, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him, and then cursed.
“Right, sorry about that,” he muttered, pushing to his feet.
He hurried. Like he couldn’t stand the idea of me needing something and not getting it. The thought made warmth curl in my chest, spreading low in my belly.
I exhaled slowly, too aware of how much space he took up in the room.
Of the way my pulse reacted to him, how it quickened whenever he got too close, how it slowed whenever he stepped away.
I hated it. I hated that I noticed. Hated that even now, after everything, after the nightmares and the near-death experience, my body still reacted to him like this.
Like he was mine. A sharp, dull throb bloomed in my arm, dragging me back to reality.
Right. The rabid vampires in the woods. The attack. The pain.
Declan standing over me, fangs bared, body tense with something dangerous and wild. Acting all possessive and protective over me.
The memory sent a shiver through me. I sucked in a slow breath, because dang it. He had looked like a monster in that moment. A terrifying, bloodthirsty, beautiful monster.
And the worst part? I had liked it. No, I had loved it.
Because he was protecting me. Because he had stood between me and death, ready to rip apart anything that tried to take me away from him.
And maybe it was the fever, or the lingering haze of exhaustion, but the thought pleased me.
It made something deep inside me curl tight, my skin heating, my stomach twisting with something dangerous and heady.
Declan returned with the glass of water and I drank all of it, aware of his stare.
This was bad. I was too aware of him. Of the way his movements were sharper now, more predatory, yet still undeniably him.
Of the way his cool fingers lingered on mine when he handed me that glass of water, like he wasn’t sure if he should be touching me at all, yet couldn’t bring himself to pull away.
Of the way his dark eyes flickered with something raw and aching when he thought I wasn’t looking. Something I recognized. Something I knew.
Wasn’t this exactly what I wanted?
I had spent so long pretending.
Pretending that what we had, the stolen moments, the rough, desperate nights tangled in bedsheets, the shared silences that stretched too long, meant nothing.
That it was just sex. That I was just like him. That we both only ever knew one way to feel alive. The thrill of the hunt. The heat of battle. The rush of the kill.
That’s what he lived for, wasn’t it?
And I had convinced myself I did too, but now…
Now, everything was different. Now, Declan wasn’t a hunter anymore and neither was I.
Now, his body didn’t run hot with the adrenaline of the chase. It ran cold with something else entirely and he was still here. Still watching me. Still lingering.
“More?” Declan asked and for a second, I was stumped but I somehow managed a nod.
I couldn’t stop the way my pulse kicked up when he returned with another glass of water in hand.
Couldn’t stop the warmth that settled low in my stomach when he crouched beside the bed, his sharp gaze locking onto mine.
Like I was the only thing that mattered and nothing had changed. But everything had changed.The space between us was too small. The air too heavy. Everything felt exposed.
All the things I had kept locked away, the wanting, the fear, the sick ache of knowing I would never have him the way I wanted to, they were all right there, laid bare in the space between us.
And I knew he saw it.
Because his expression shifted and his breath hitched. His hands trembled just a little when he set the glass of water on the nightstand.
And then Declan made the first move this time and that thrilled me to bits.
He kissed me. It wasn’t slow, tentative or gentle. It was rough and desperate and messy. His fingers curled around my jaw, rough and unrelenting, as his mouth crashed against mine.
I made a noise, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, and fisted my hands into his shirt, yanking him closer.
His body was solid against mine, his weight pressing me deeper into the mattress, and all I could think was—
I kissed him back. Hard. Like I was making up for every second I wasted pretending this wasn’t what I wanted. Like I was making up for lost time.
His lips were hot, but his body was cold, and it sent a violent shiver down my spine. I should have pulled away.
I should have stopped this, should have laid down some ground rules, should have reminded myself that everything was different now.
But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Not when he kissed me hungrily, like he needed this more than blood.
Not when his fingers dug into my skin, hard enough to bruise, like he was afraid I’d slip through his grasp.
Not when the hunger I had seen in his eyes for years finally bled into his touch, which felt raw, consuming, reckless. Then his tongue slid against mine, and a sharp sting shot through my lip.
I pulled back instinctively, my breath coming fast and ragged. I couldn’t believe I nicked myself on his fangs again.
“Dang it,” I muttered, swiping at my mouth with the back of my hand.
I barely had time to process before Declan froze, his entire body going rigid.
I studied him, my pulse hammering. His eyes, dark, wide, intense, fixed on the crimson smudge on my lip.
His jaw clenched. His fingers twitched, like he was fighting some internal war. Then his expression changed. Lust, hot and consuming, bled into something colder. Something horrified.
Declan jerked away from me, so fast it was like I had burned him.
“No,” he spat, shoving himself off me.
He paced a few steps away, his hands gripping his hair, his breathing uneven.
"Declan,” I began.
"No." His voice was sharp, almost frantic. "This was a mistake."
I pushed up onto my elbows, watching as he turned his back to me, shoulders heaving. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
I saw the way he was breathing hard, the way his chest rose and fell like he was barely keeping it together.
"Declan," I tried again, softer this time.
He spun to face me, and the look on his face stopped me cold. Rage. Not at me, at himself.
"I don’t deserve this," he said, voice rough and unsteady. "I don’t deserve you.” His jaw tightened, as if swallowing his words. "I’m a monster now, Donovan."
His hand shot up, raking through his already disheveled hair, before dropping to his side again, fingers trembling.
"I almost—" He exhaled sharply, like he was afraid to say it.
But I already knew. I had seen it. The way his body tensed. The way his lips parted just slightly, his pupils dilating, his gaze locked on the blood on my lip.
He wanted it and it was killing him. Declan turned away again, his shoulders hunched, like he was bracing for impact.
Like he expected me to agree. To say he was right. That this was a mistake. That he was too far gone, but I didn’t, because I knew Declan.
I knew the way he thought, the way he tore himself apart from the inside out and I refused to let him go down that road.
I pushed off the bed, ignoring the dull ache in my body, and stepped toward him.
"Declan."
He flinched, just barely.
I exhaled, my voice quieter this time.
"You didn't hurt me."
His laugh was harsh, bitter.
"Not yet."
"Not ever," I corrected.
He didn’t turn around, but I saw the way his shoulders tensed, like he wanted to believe me but couldn’t.
I took another step forward, close enough to touch him, but I didn’t. Not yet.
"Declan," I said, firm this time. "Look at me."
For a long, stretched-out moment, he didn’t move. Then, finally, slowly, he turned.
His expression was tight, conflicted, angry, but underneath it, I saw something else. Something vulnerable and scared.
I lifted a hand but stopped just short of touching him, waiting. He didn’t pull away.
"You're still you," I reminded him.
Declan shook his head, stepping back.
"I can’t do this," he muttered.
"Yes, you can," I countered.
His gaze snapped to mine, sharp and frustrated.
"Why are you doing this?" he bit out. "Why won't you just let me go?"
"Because I know you," I said, stepping closer. "And because I—"
I stopped. I swallowed. I had almost said it.
He must have seen the hesitation on my face because his own expression shifted. Something flickered in his eyes, something deep and unspoken.
"Because you what?" he challenged, voice quieter now.
The space between us felt too small again. The air too charged. This was dangerous, but maybe I didn’t care anymore.
I reached out before I could think better of it, cupping the side of his face, my thumb brushing along the sharp line of his jaw.
He inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away. His eyes searched mine, and for a split second, I saw it again. The need. The want. The fear.
“You’re important to me. You’ve always been,” I whispered.