Chapter 4
Rook
I fucking hate this shit.
I hate that whatever this thing is can drag me across town without asking. Hate that I let it. Hate that I can’t fight harder against it.
By the time I pulled into the rink’s lot, I already knew she was here. That is, after all, what brought me here after I left Kane’s place—my body choosing the direction with a swift turn of my steering wheel before my brain could weigh in.
And now, I’m still here, skulking in the dark like some kind of stalker.
Kylie Moon is halfway across the asphalt of the dark parking lot, keys in hand, bag slung over her shoulder, posture loose in the way of someone who still believes the night is normal.
She doesn’t notice the sound at first, but that’s what makes her human.
She’s built for softness, for love, for life; I’m built for awareness, for speed, for execution.
We are opposites, and yet, at an intrinsic level, we are one.
A slow bleed leaks air from her tire, and a soft hiss fills the otherwise frigid night air, audible exclusively to my sensitive ears. I’m no match for Cal, who can probably hear this shit from his couch, but my hearing, in comparison to Kylie’s, is undeniably advanced.
And so is my vision. Even from here, I can see the puncture in her tire isn’t from a rock or road debris. As suspected, this was intentional, and that means someone meant it as a trap. Anger chokes me as my vision tunnels to Kylie and her immediate surroundings.
Her brown hair is pulled into one of those messy knots she always has when she skates, a few loose strands catching the light from the moon as she walks, and her bright, entrancing blue eyes scan the lot as she holds her keys tightly in her hand.
She’s on edge, I can feel it in my bones, and a surge of pride for her survival instinct overwhelms me.
Humans aren’t born into a perfect world any more than we are—but the societal expectations are different. Trust easy, be kind, give the benefit of the doubt—they live within a golden rule to treat others the way they’d like to be treated.
Vampire code is harsher but, in a lot of ways, a hell of a lot less complex. Trust is earned. Kindness is reserved. There are no benefits—only doubts.
We care for those who care for us, and beyond that, everyone else is a threat. Connection is weakness, and for me, Kylie Moon is my biggest fucking liability.
She isn’t polished or curated, but her beauty is there in every innocent facet of her being and taking up space like there isn’t a seedy world thinking it can decide who she belongs to.
I didn’t come here with the intention of intervening.
I came here because I’m clearly fucking powerless against this thing I didn’t choose.
Something instinctual tightens low and harsh in my chest. The need to protect it—to protect her—runs all the way to my roots. My muscles coil, focus narrowing, everything in me snapping toward her like a compass needle when his presence overwhelms me.
Fuck. I grit my teeth.
Not expecting Holland to be here was na?ve—and since being na?ve is the last thing a man like me can stand to be, I will not be it twice.
The slimefuck stands ten feet back from her car, leaning against a sedan that doesn’t belong to him, materialized out of nowhere from the thick, foggy air he’s pretending to breathe.
He looks down at the screen of his phone like he’s busy with something casual rather than lurking, but I know the whole scene is too goddamn scripted to be coincidence, and that the only reason I couldn’t see him earlier is because of his shielding.
Two other guys linger near the trunk of the sedan, their faces masked in darkness, and a new level of rage boils every drop of blood inside me.
Fucking gofer-cronies.
Suddenly, the thing I overheard Holland say to Kylie inside the rink—the private event thing on Friday—hits differently. This isn’t curiosity—this is a test. A practice run for the main event.
My body buzzes as I push myself into her space both mentally and physically, eating at the asphalt between us two stride-lengths at a time.
She sees the tire for the first time as she’s unlocking her door, and confusion and panic render her body motionless. Holland is fast, but I’m faster as I dominate the space in front of her, crouching at the tire.
“Oh my God!” She jumps at my unexpected presence, and her hand grasps at air, trying to hold and slow the rapid breath in her chest. The space between us fills with warm fog from the extra exhalation, and her pulse thrums noticeably in her trim neck.
My mouth waters. Much like pheromones, her blood calls to me.
I avert my eyes from the tempting vibration and pretend to inspect her tire that I don’t need to inspect at all. I already know who and how and why.
“You’ve got a flat.”
“W-where did you come from?” she asks, her voice squeaking. “Why are you here?”
I don’t answer.
If I explain why I’m here, I don’t get to stay quiet—and quiet is the only thing keeping this from turning into something that draws attention.
I run my fingers along the rubber, finding the puncture I already spotted across the parking lot. It’s small and clean and deliberate. Straight from a blade, not bad luck.
My jaw tightens. “It’s definitely flat,” I say, forcing my voice to stay even. “You’re going to need a spare.”
“That’s so weird,” she says. “It was fine when I parked.”
Yes, it was fine until it wasn’t, because someone made it that way.
Holland and his goons are close by now; I can feel their presence behind me.
“What’s going on? Everything okay?” Holland asks, voice smooth in the way that’s meant to remind me of our disparity in rank and polite to make Kylie feel like his presence is one of comfort and care.
Kylie turns toward him, understandably confused about where we’ve all come from. “I think I’ve got a flat.”
“No kidding,” he says, stepping closer. “That’s rough. It’s pretty late, Kylie. You want me to give you a ride home?”
There it is. Comfort and care and concern. A certified knight in shining armor. Too bad she can’t see his fucking fangs.
“That’s really sweet of you, Holland, but I can’t leave my car here all night. I need it for work in the morning.”
“I’ll call one of my guys,” Holland offers, completely ignoring my presence. “He’ll get it fixed and make sure it’s in your driveway by sunrise.”
I straighten slowly—primarily for Kylie’s benefit so I don’t frighten her more than she already is—standing and letting my six-foot-six frame tower over his much smaller one as I position myself between them.
“I’ve got it,” I say. “Changing to the spare won’t take more than ten minutes.”
Holland’s smile tightens. His gaze searches my face, disdain and irritation bristling in the depths of his cold, dead eyes, but I don’t budge.
Try me, you piece of shit. I’ll tear your fucking head off.
Eventually, he looks back to Kylie with a refined smile plastered across his lips, undoubtedly aimed at broadening the gap between our personalities to win the tug-of-war on Kylie’s instincts.
He’s soft and I’m hard, he’s nice and I’m short-tempered, he’s rich and I’m poor. Anything to stack the deck in his favor.
“You sure?” he asks her. “Ten minutes seems like an eternity when you’re freezing in the cold. It wouldn’t be a problem at all to give you a lift, Kylie. Really. I’d be happy to do it.”
“I said I’ve got it,” I repeat. “If she’s cold, she can wait in the car or the rink.”
For a split second, something sharp flashes in his eyes, but just as quick as it came, it disappears, relegating me to the category of a simple nuisance. He doesn’t see me as a real threat, and that’s his biggest mistake of all.
Kylie blinks between us until her eyes settle on me. She doesn’t understand why, but she trusts me more than him, regardless of the seemingly numerous reasons not to.
“Well…thank you, Rook. The spare would be great. Much more convenient in the end, I think. And thanks for the offer, Holland. Truly. It’s kind of you.”
I’m fucking proud of her for following her intuition.
Holland rocks back on his heels, glancing briefly at his guys before looking at me again. An inaudible sneer escapes his throat, but I ignore it.
“Well, Kylie,” he says, his voice light now, “keep me in mind for Friday, okay?”
She nods. “Oh yeah. Of course. I’ll let you know.”
“See you around.”
His buddies stare at me as they back away, their wordless expressions meant to put me on edge. Joke’s on them, though. If anyone should be on edge right now, it’s them.
There’s no telling what I’d do to put myself between them and Kylie at this point, whether I’m ready for the commitment or not.
I wait until Holland and his cronies are gone before grabbing a jack from my truck.
Kylie crouches beside me, arms wrapped around herself against the cold when I kneel down to change her tire.
“I swear I’m not this helpless,” she mutters. I don’t know if it’s more for her or for me, but the statement is emphatically loaded. Being something other than a damsel is important to her—in her eyes or mine, I’m not sure.
“You’re not helpless,” I confirm as kindly as I can manage while working on the flat.
It’s only when she gasps in surprise at the ease with which I remove the tire without even using my fucking jack that I realize how mindlessly I’m going through the motions.
Idiot.
“So, you’re, like, really strong.”
I don’t answer again because there isn’t a good one. Not when she’s vulnerable here, not when a simple explanation on my end would flip her entire world upside down.
Instead, I keep working, and muscle memory takes over while my mind tracks the lot. I don’t miss that Holland and his lapdogs are still nearby in their sedan—just out of eyeshot but close enough to smell them—and I also don’t miss the dark SUV idling across the street.
They’re rushing because they need to. I fucking hate that I know why.