Chapter Seven #2
“You’re okay,” Vex is saying, his voice rough. “You’re okay, you’re safe, I’ve got you.”
I want to believe him.
But looking at the destroyed doorframe, at Hollywood being tended to by Blade and Fury, at the way every single brother in this hallway is staring at me with varying degrees of fear and wariness, I know the truth.
I’m not safe.
None of us are.
Because the creature knows where I am now. It knows it can reach me through the mark. And next time, Prophet might not be fast enough to stop it.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against Vex’s chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t.” His arms tighten around me. “You woke everyone up. You warned us. You probably saved lives tonight.”
“Hollywood—”
“Will heal,” Blade says, his voice back to normal now that he’s shifted back to human. He’s pulling on pants, apparently unconcerned about modesty. “Frost burns suck, but he’s had worse.”
I don’t believe him, but I don’t have the energy to argue.
Vex carries me back into his room, since mine is frosted over and uninhabitable, and sets me down on his bed with a gentleness that shouldn’t be possible for someone with his strength.
The bed smells like him, like cold nights and leather and something uniquely Vex, and despite everything, I feel safer here than I have anywhere else.
He crouches in front of me, his eyes scanning my face like he’s checking for injuries. “Are you hurt? Besides the mark?”
“I don’t think so.” My voice comes out hoarse from all the screaming. “Is everyone else okay?”
“They will be.” His jaw tightens. “Prophet’s theory was right. The creature can’t cross the wards, but it can project through your connection. Use you as a conduit.”
“So, I’m a weapon it can use against you.” The words taste like ash. “I should leave. Right now. Before it tries again.”
“No.”
“Vex—”
“No,” he repeats, and there’s steel in his voice now. “You leave, you’re alone. And alone, you’re dead. At least here, we can protect you.”
“But I’m putting everyone at risk!”
“That’s the job.” Prophet appears in the doorway, looking tired but unharmed. “We’re the Kings of Anarchy. Nobody fucks with the Kings. That includes ancient ice demons trying to use our people as puppets.”
The way he says ‘our people’ makes something in my chest tighten.
“What did you do?” I ask him. “To the mark?”
“Temporarily weakened the connection.” He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “It won’t hold forever. Maybe a day or two before it’s strong enough to try this again. But it gives us time to figure out a more permanent solution.”
“What kind of solution?”
Prophet and Vex exchange a look I don’t like.
“We’ll figure it out,” Vex says finally. “Right now, you need to rest.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You’re exhausted.” He stands, towering over me. “And you’re in shock, even if you don’t feel it yet. Sleep, Tessa. I’ll be right here.”
I want to argue, but the adrenaline is finally crashing, leaving me hollow and shaking. My shoulder throbs, my head pounds, and every muscle in my body feels like it’s been wrung out and left to dry.
“You’ll stay?” The words come out smaller than I intend.
Something softens in Vex’s expression. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Prophet quietly excuses himself, pulling the broken door as closed as it will go, and then it’s just us. Vex and me in his room, with the night pressing in around us and the memory of that shadow still fresh in my mind.
I lie back on his bed, still fully clothed in my sleep pants and tank top, and stare at the ceiling. I should feel vulnerable here. Should feel trapped. But instead, I feel...
Safe.
Which is insane, considering what just happened.
“Tessa.” Vex’s voice is soft, careful. “Can I...?”
He gestures to the bed, asking permission.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He climbs onto the bed beside me, staying on top of the covers, keeping space between us. But his presence is a solid weight, grounding and real, and before I can stop myself, I’m rolling toward him.
His arms come around me immediately, pulling me against his chest. One hand cradles the back of my head while the other settles on my lower back, and the cold of his skin seeps through my shirt.
I should pull away.
I don’t.
Instead, I press closer, my face buried against his neck, breathing in his scent. My hands fist in his t-shirt, holding on like he’s the only solid thing in a world that’s trying to tear itself apart.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my hair. “You’re safe. I promise.”
And God help me, I believe him.
I don’t sleep.
Neither does he.
We just lie there in the darkness, his arms around me, my breathing gradually evening out as the tremors fade. Every so often, he runs his hand up and down my back in soothing strokes, and I let myself pretend this is normal. That we’re normal.
That I’m not marked by an ancient creature, and he’s not a vampire fighting every instinct to claim me.
“Vex?” I whisper finally.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.” I pause. “For protecting me. For... for not letting it take me.”
His arms tighten fractionally. “Always.”
The word hangs in the air between us, heavy with promise and danger and things neither of us can say out loud yet.
But I hear it anyway.
And lying here in his arms, with the cold of him seeping into my bones and the steady, unnecessary rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek, I realize something terrifying.
I don’t want to fight this anymore.
Whatever this thing is between us, this connection that shouldn’t exist, this want that’s stronger than fear, I’m done pretending it’s not real.
Even if it destroys us both.
“Vex,” I say again, lifting my head to look at him.
His eyes meet mine in the darkness, and they’re not white anymore. Just dark and intense and full of things I’m not ready to name.
“Don’t,” he says quietly. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you tell me you want me, I won’t be able to walk away.” His voice is raw. “And I need to be able to walk away, Tessa. For your sake.”
I should listen to him. Should let him keep that distance between us for both our sakes.
But I don’t.
Instead, I close the space between us and press my lips to his.
The kiss is nothing like the one downstairs. That was fire and desperation and loss of control. This is something else. Slower. Deliberate. A choice I’m making with clear eyes and a steady heart.
He freezes for a heartbeat, then makes a sound low in his throat, and kisses me back.
His mouth is cold against mine, and his fangs scrape my lower lip as he deepens the kiss, but I don’t care. I open for him, letting him in, and the taste of him is winter and danger and everything I should run from but can’t.
His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone, and the gentleness of it is at odds with the barely leashed hunger I can feel vibrating through him. He’s holding back, I realize. Fighting himself even now.
So, I push harder.
I shift, swinging one leg over his hips so I’m straddling him, and the position brings our bodies flush. I can feel every inch of him beneath me—the solid muscle, the unnatural stillness, the hard length of his cock pressing against my pussy through our clothes.
He tears his mouth away from mine with a gasp. “Tessa, we can’t—”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ll hurt you.” His hands grip my hips, holding me still when I try to rock against him. “Because I won’t be able to stop. Because—”
“Because you’re scared,” I finish for him. “I know. I’m scared too.”
“Then why—”
“Because I’m tired of being scared,” I tell him, my hands framing his face. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel this. And I’m tired of you pretending you don’t either.”
His eyes search mine, looking for something. Doubt, maybe. Hesitation. But whatever he sees makes his resolve crack, just a little.
“This is a mistake,” he says, even as his hands tighten on my hips.
“Probably.”
“I could hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “I do.”
And I kiss him again.
This time, he doesn’t pull away. This time, he gives in.
His hands slide up my sides, under my shirt, cold palms against warm skin, and I gasp into his mouth. He swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, one hand fisting in my hair while the other explores the curve of my waist.
I rock against him, grinding down on his erection, and he growls, actually growls, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine.
“Tessa,” he says, and my name on his lips sounds like a prayer and a curse all at once.
I pull back just enough to meet his eyes. They’re white again, glowing softly in the darkness, and his fangs are fully extended. He looks feral. Dangerous. Like the monster he keeps insisting he is.
But he’s also still holding me like I’m something precious. Still waiting for permission even though I can feel how much he wants this.
“Touch me,” I whisper. “Please.”
Something in him breaks.
His mouth is on mine again, brutal and claiming, and his hands are everywhere, my back, my sides, sliding down to cup my ass and pull me harder against him. I moan into the kiss, my hips moving on their own now, seeking friction, seeking him.
Then—
A knock on the broken door.
We both freeze.
“Vex,” Blade’s voice, carefully neutral. “Church in ten minutes. Mandatory.”
The moment shatters.
Vex pulls back, his breathing ragged, his eyes still white. He looks at me for a long moment, then carefully, gently, lifts me off his lap and sets me beside him on the bed.
“We’ll finish this conversation later,” he says, his voice rough.
I want to argue. Want to pull him back and make him forget about church, about the club, about everything except us.
But the mark on my shoulder chooses that moment to pulse with cold, a reminder of why I’m here. Why we can’t afford to get distracted.
“Okay,” I say instead.
He stands, running a hand through his hair, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he looks uncertain. Vulnerable.
“Stay here,” he says. “Rest. I’ll be back soon.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me alone in his bed with my body still humming with want and the taste of him on my lips.
And all I can think is:
We’re in so much trouble.
Both of us.