Chapter 2
Two
FLYNN
Talulla is restless as the night drags on. She twists in the sheets, breath uneven, and I keep a steady hand on her back, murmuring soft reassurances she can’t hear. Whatever’s chasing her through sleep won’t let go, and I know exactly why that is.
It’s real now.
She’s worked hard to get here—bled for it, fought for it—and her future should feel bright. Instead, it terrifies her. The unknown always does, especially when it asks for everything at once.
How could it not?
She fell for a vampire. For me. A creature she was raised to despise, trained to kill. And yet, she’s here, curled into my side, breathing me in like I’m safe. Like I’m home. She’s ready to move, ready to uproot her life for something that might still break her heart.
If only I could find a way to make her worry less about everyone else.
I know her thoughts always drift back to her mother. Nora Popescu is a grown woman who made her choices long before Talulla ever existed. Long before she became the person she is now. Nora wants her daughter safe. Happy. Far away from Emil.
And Emil—damn him—chose the worst possible moment to provoke her. As much as I want to believe Talulla when she says she’s fine, I know she isn’t. I know she’s still grieving a parent who’s very much alive and yet refuses to accept who she is. Refuses her life. And I know he always will.
There’s nothing I can do to fix that. Not without compelling him again and again just to make him stop being a fucking asshole, and that wouldn’t heal anything. If Nora couldn’t reach him, no one ever will. That truth settles heavy in my chest, and it frightens me more than I care to admit.
This is why we’re leaving. Why we need a change of scenery.
At least…I hope it helps. Helps her.
“Fangs, it’s not good at your age to be awake in the middle of the night,” Talulla’s groggy voice murmurs. Her eyes stay closed as she shifts closer, her hand finding my chest like it belongs there.
“I should be the one saying that to you.”
A small snort escapes her. “Are you calling me old?”
The corner of my mouth lifts despite myself. “I’m calling you an insomniac,” I say, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, committing it to memory. “Bad dreams?”
She stretches before settling fully against me, fitting into my side as if she was always meant to be there. Instinct takes over, and my arms close around her. “You could say that,” she mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “Nothing to worry about.”
I don’t believe her. Not for a second.
But her body slowly relaxes, tension easing as sleep pulls her under again. Her breathing evens out, warm and steady against my chest. I stay still, afraid that even the slightest movement might send her spiraling back into whatever haunts her.
Only when I’m sure she’s asleep—calm, quiet, safe—do I let myself breathe again.
I could ask her about what’s been keeping her awake. I could. And I already know she’d tell me she’s fine, that nothing’s wrong.
Just like I do with her.
A vicious, endless cycle—one that’s bound to explode in my face if I let it go on like this.
Still, every time I keep my past locked away, I feel like a stranger lying beside her.
She’s never pressured me to tell her the full story of how I was turned, or when, or by whom.
She pretends it doesn’t matter. But I know her.
I know it’s eating at her, settling deep beneath her skin the way nightmares do.
I have to tell her. I will tell her. The entire story, not just what I decided to share on our first date.
Especially when her family is so deeply entangled with my past. Just as she will tell me about her nightmares when she’s ready. Nightmares I know I’m part of.
She knows something happened between her father and me—I’m certain of it. Talulla is the smartest person I know. And yet, she hasn’t pushed. She trusts me with her silence, and that trust makes the truth feel heavier, not lighter. Keeping it to myself hurts more than admitting it ever could.
I’ll tell her everything. All of it. My past, laid bare, once we’re settled in London.
This is our new beginning.
And Emil Popescu is not going to fucking ruin it—not now, not ever.
Not when his daughter is my reason for existing.
I’ve been up for a couple of hours by the time the sun starts creeping through the windows, keeping myself busy with chores around the apartment, making calls to ensure everything gets shipped back to England. If I stop moving, I’ll start thinking, and lately, that’s never a good idea.
“Fangs, you know you can ask me for help, right?” Talulla says as she wanders into the kitchen, hair up in a messy bun, eyes still heavy with sleep.
“I’ve got it under control. You needed the rest,” I reply, pressing a warm mug into her hands before she can argue.
“Thank you.”
I lean against the counter, watching her take the first sip. “Any plans today, now that you’ve got free time ahead of you?”
She wrinkles her nose. “It feels so weird not having to do anything for so long.”
I snort softly. “You’ve been running on fumes for years. A break before you throw yourself back into chaos might actually save your life.”
“Okay,” she accepts before tilting her head. “Then at least let me help you plan the move.”
“There’s nothing else to do.”
“Flynn.”
“Talulla.”
She exhales sharply before dropping into the chair at the table, fixing me with a look I know far too well. “How is that even possible? I need things to do, or I’m going to lose my mind.”
And there it is—the restless edge. The same one I saw in her sleep.
She chews on her bottom lip, and my thoughts derail instantly. God help me. Desire coils low and slow, heat flickering through my veins as I imagine far too much, far too vividly how good she is with her mouth around my cock. She really is going to be the death of me if she keeps doing that.
“I might have a few ideas,” I murmur, letting my tongue trace just behind my fangs as my gaze lingers on her. “Red ruby.”
“You really are sticking with the new pet name.”
I take a slow sip of my coffee before answering. “Yes,” I say simply, clicking my tongue.
Rolling her eyes, she adds, “And stop picturing me on my knees, fangs. We’ve got things to do.”
“Do we?” I counter. “I thought we’d just established you have absolutely nothing to do.”
“But you do, don’t you?” she says, eyebrow arching.
And I do. I glance down at my watch and sigh. “You know you’re going to pay for that insolence later. But you’re right—I need to go.”
“Thought so. You always disappear during the day.”
I tilt my head. “I do not.”
“Flynn, it’s fine. You’ve got things to do. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m just securing a few pieces,” I explain. “Making sure everything gets back intact.”
“You know I have, you know…a piece of paper that says I can help with that shit.”
I chuckle. “Listen to you, speaking like a proper historian.”
“I’m serious. I can help.”
I smile, because I know she wants to. Because she cares. And because she has no idea how badly I want her fingerprints all over my collection, her opinions woven into every artifact I’ve spent centuries protecting. But I want something else more.
“I want you to see your friends,” I tell her gently. “These are your last few days here. You need that time. Trust me.”
She huffs. “All right, all right. I get it. Your curator is better than me.”
“No one is better than you, darling. No one.” I lean in and press a soft kiss to her lips. “Now, stop poking me, or I’ll make you lose your entire day.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I’d keep your throat filled until you begged me for mercy,” I murmur, voice dropping. “And you know that’s one thing I don’t have.”
Her lips part just slightly, and the scent of her arousal curls around me like a temptation I was never meant to survive. My thumb brushes her mouth, slow and deliberate.
“Be a good girl and have a day off with Cassandra.”
“Circle back to the keeping my throat filled part?”
“Tonight,” I promise quietly. “You’re mine, little hunter. All mine.”
I force myself to step away before I forget how to leave. I grab my keys, head for the door, and don’t look back.
Because if I do, I won’t go.
I’ll pin her to the mattress, feel her come undone beneath me, and make damn sure she never spends another moment without being filled with me.
And that—right now—is exactly why I have to walk away.