Chapter 7
Seven
TALULLA
We’ve been in London for almost two weeks, and it’s been a freaking dream.
Flynn insists on showing me everything—the tourist traps, the hidden cafés, the bookstores that smell like dust and old magic.
He lights up every time we turn a corner, like this city is stitched into him, like he’s finally home and wants me folded into it too.
Watching him fall in love with his own memories again feels…
intimate. Like I’m being trusted with something sacred.
No vampires have bothered us yet.
No more Popescu notes.
Nothing at all—aside from the fact that we are two supernatural beings trying to pretend this is normal.
And it is normal. That’s the problem.
I can’t remember the last time I went this long without staking a vampire. Without waking up already braced for blood, already cataloging exits, already prepared to kill something before it killed me. For so long, violence was my language. Purpose. Identity.
Now my days are filled with hotel breakfasts and wandering streets and holding Flynn’s hand like the world isn’t constantly on the verge of collapse.
I’m finally starting to feel like myself again.
Or maybe like someone I’m supposed to become.
I’m still working on the nightmares. On the paranoia.
By working on them, I mean aggressively ignoring them and pretending I’m fine.
Very healthy. Very mature. But it’s not like Flynn is exactly lining up to tell me every dark secret of his immortal life either.
We’re both avoiding things. Just in different fonts.
We’re still trying to find a place to live.
Flynn is being…extra about it. I managed to convince him that switching hotels every two days instead of every day is a compromise, actually.
If we don’t find something soon, we might have to move cities entirely because we’re running out of five-star hotels in the area, and my vampire refuses to suffer.
Spoiled. Absolutely spoiled.
“You okay over there?” Flynn asks as he’s pouring something into a cup.
I crinkle my nose and look up at him. “I am, why?”
“You look deep in your thoughts.”
“I was just counting the days.” Sixty-seven.
“What?”
“I haven’t staked a vampire in months.”
“I mean, you do stake me from time to time,” he replies, the corner of his lips lifting into a devilish smile.
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “I mean stake to kill, not to add to the fun in the bedroom.”
He tilts his head, studying me like I’m something fragile he doesn’t want to break. “Are you sad about it?”
“No,” I say quickly. “Not at all. It’s just…different.” That’s the polite word for it. The real word is terrifying.
I wanted out of the business for so long that I never stopped to imagine what life would look like when I actually got my wish. Turns out, I don’t know how to exist without being needed for something horrible. I’m here, I’m breathing, I’m safe—and somehow that feels like something I haven’t earned.
“Did you expect more supernatural beings around?” he asks. “London’s full of them. They just don’t bother you.”
“I just feel so relaxed,” I admit. “And that makes me nervous.”
“You’re nervous because you’re relaxed.”
“What if I shouldn’t feel like this?” The words spill out before I can stop them. “What if it’s a trap? What if I can’t be—”
“Darling,” he interrupts gently, stepping closer. “It’s not a trap. You can let go a little. Nothing’s going to happen unless you go looking for trouble.”
“But—”
“You deserve a normal life, Talulla, you deserve it all.”
That does it. That cracks something open in my chest, because of course he sees straight through me. Of course he does. So naturally, I cope with sarcasm. “I guess American vampires like to look for trouble, then.”
“British vampires know to stay away when the most powerful vampire hunter in existence walks on their path.”
I snort. “Weird, I guess you didn’t get the memo.”
“What can I say, I really had a death wish when we met.”
He’s right. I should be ecstatic. Instead, I feel like I’m waiting for the floor to drop out from under me. Like peace is just the calm before something worse. “It’s silly. I know,” I mutter.
“It is not silly.”
I feel his presence beside mine. He hands me a cup of…tea? “What’s this?”
“You’re in England now, and I told you I’d make you real tea. You should try to cut down the coffee intake and try our version of poison. Might help with the nerves.”
I narrow my eyes because he’s purposely teasing me to get a reaction, and well, I absolutely am not wasting an opportunity to banter with the love of my life. “I know what tea tastes like, Flynn.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I’ve drank dirty water before, no thank you.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “Can you please just try it before you completely shatter my heart in a thousand pieces?”
“Your heart? Shattered? By me not drinking tea?”
“I might even have to punish you for calling it dirty water.”
“I don’t even like Earl Grey, Flynn, it’s so gross.”
“I would never give you that atrocity, this is English Breakfast, as it should be. God, don’t ever say that again.”
“Well, I love learning new ways to offend you,” I tease.
“Bergamot should not be in anything,” he continues, already too deep in his rant. “Now drink this phenomenal blend of herbs and behave.”
I don’t know what got into me, but with a chuckle I grab my cup, and follow him on the love seat, I take a sip of the tea, and fuck, it is good, but for sake of this little interaction, I’m going to pretend to hate it, because after sitting the cup down, I lay down on my stomach, my lower half is on his lap.
My ass is right there, ready for him. “Mr. Lancaster, you might have to do much worse because that was nasty.”
The sound he makes is pure animal. My body reacts instantly—nipples hard, panties soaked.
Good thing I’m wearing a sundress, because I don’t need my crazy vampire to ruin another pair of pants.
“I don’t have much time for this.”
“What? Flynn, we have all day.”
My panties are gone in seconds, the cool air making me shiver. “Fuck,” he murmurs. “You’re pretty.”
“Just pretty?”
His hand comes down hard. “Prettiest being on this earth.”
Another hard smack.
“But you’re such a brat.”
“Your brat.”
“My filthy brat,” he hums, and I melt.
I’m sensitive. I’ll have marks. But when his fingers slide between my folds, all I can think is how safe I feel like this. How cared for. How terrifying that is.
“What do you have to do?” I ask, trying not to lose complete control over the entire situation.
“In and out,” he murmurs, doing exactly that. Perfectly. Always.
Then, he quickly turns me over so that he has better access to my pussy, and the torturous thrusts continue. “Flynn, I need—”
His fingers are relentless. “I know, my red ruby, I know exactly what you need.”
“Please.”
“Yes, just like that, beg for it. Beg me to make you come, you dirty girl.”
“Please, sir, make me come.”
“Look at what you do to me, making me late for my meeting.”
“I’m sorry, I—” and then I shudder. Like this. Him completely dressed and me, with my dress pulled up, coming on his hand. “God.”
“No god here, darling, just your personal monster.” He licks his fingers as I try to regain a regular heartbeat. “I do wish I could fuck you right now, but I really need to go.”
“And what am I supposed to be doing?”
“I’ll be away for a couple of hours.”
“And I can’t come with you.”
He smirks, as if this wasn’t a legitimate question. “Not this time, I’m afraid.”
“Why?”
“Because I have to take care of something on my own.”
“Flynn.”
“It’s a couple of hours, darling.”
“It’s sketchy.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re being sketchy.”
He snorts. “It really isn’t.”
“You’ve been doing shit on your own for a while now, and I don’t understand why you can’t tell me. I thought we were going to spend this free time together.”
He sighs. Still a smirk on his face, and fuck, I’m ready to smack him. “I will tell you when it’s time.”
“Oh my god, if you say something like that again, I might actually stake you.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time, I’m sure it won’t be the last.”
“You’re nerve-racking.”
“Says the one who used to spend twelve hours a day in the library or in a lab forgetting to tell me if she was even alive most of the time.”
“And I’m sorry I did that, but now you’re punishing me by pushing me away?”
“I’m not pushing you away,” he says. “I’m preparing something.”
“Also we’re still at a hotel, when I know you have an apartment in central London. Even if you want to find another place, we don’t need to spend so much money in hotels.”
“That apartment is gone.”
“What?”
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Then a knock on the door makes me jump to my feet.
I quickly put on my panties and after he’s sure I’m covered, he opens the door.
A middle-aged woman walks in, with a cart of essential oils and…
is that a massage bed? “Now, I know you can’t stay still for five minutes, but please enjoy this massage I got you. You need to release some tension.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
He laughs out loud as he closes the door behind him.
“He’s a dead vampire,” I whisper to myself as the lady prepares the bed in the middle of the room.
“Mrs. Lancaster, my name is—”
“Popescu.”
“Excuse me?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, it’s just—we’re not married or anything.”
She giggles. “Of course, of course, I apologize about that, Ms. Popescu, my name is Teresa, and Mr. Lancaster just wanted to surprise you with a full body massage, said you’ve been working non-stop for the past few months, and thought this would help you.”
I narrow my eyes. “How thoughtful.” That prick. Attacking me with kindness. Does he truly think I’m just gonna let go of the fact that he didn’t tell me where he was going?
Oh no.
I’ve turned into one of those girlfriends, haven’t I?
The one who freaks out if the boyfriend leaves her alone because she has no idea where he went.
Boyfriend.
Is he even my boyfriend?
What the fuck are we? Yeah, I’m spiraling. For no reason.