Chapter 5 Kit
KIT
When I woke, I didn’t know where I was.
For a second, everything was sound and blur. The groan of old timber, the rustle of something moving close by, the taste of copper thick in my mouth.
My first instinct was to reach for my knife. My hand twitched toward my belt, and pain shot through my side so sharp it tore the breath from me.
That was enough to bring the world back into focus. The house. The fight. The blood. Simon.
I blinked against the dim light. The air smelled faintly of smoke and damp wood. A weak fire burned in the old hearth across the room, its glow trembling over cracked tiles and broken furniture.
The flames were small but steady, like someone had been feeding them carefully. There he was, sitting a few feet away, cross-legged on the floor, his back to the wall.
Simon’s head was tilted down, his hair falling forward as he stared at something in his hands. My knife. The one I’d tried to gut him with earlier.
For a heartbeat, panic flared in me. Then I realized he wasn’t holding it like a threat. He was cleaning it, running a strip of cloth along the blade with slow, meticulous care.
Every few seconds, he’d glance at the fire, then back at the weapon, as if making sure it still caught the light. My pulse thudded unevenly.
He looked different in the firelight. Softer, somehow. Less like something out of a nightmare and more like a person.
The glow made his skin look warm instead of cold, turned the silver of his eyes to liquid mercury. There was a streak of dried blood across his temple, mine, probably.
The collar of his shirt was torn, exposing the sharp line of his collarbone. He didn’t look like a killer. He looked tired.
My voice came out rough, rasping. “You’re still here.”
Simon’s head lifted instantly. His eyes snapped to mine, and for a moment, all the tension that had been coiled in him seemed to loosen. “You’re awake.”
“Didn’t answer my question.”
He hesitated, then set the knife aside. “You were bleeding. I couldn’t just leave you.”
I huffed out a dry laugh that hurt. “You could’ve.”
“I didn’t want to.”
The way he said it, quiet and earnest, made something twist deep in my chest.
He shifted closer, slow enough that I could stop him if I wanted. “How do you feel?”
“Like I lost a fight with a freight train.”
That got a faint smile out of him. “You nearly did.”
“Yeah, well.” I grimaced. “At least I look better than the other guy.”
Simon’s gaze flicked toward the corner where the feral vampire’s body had been a few hours ago. Now, only a dark stain remained. Proof he’d taken care of it. Maybe Simon had buried it out back.
“I could’ve handled it on my own,” he said quietly.
That earned a rough snort from me. “You think so?”
He didn’t answer right away.
When Simon finally did, his voice was low, almost reluctant. “I’ve dealt with one of them before. They follow me sometimes. Maybe they can smell what I am. Maybe they know his blood still runs in my veins. I know what they’re capable of.”
Something about the way he said it made the hairs on my neck rise. I wanted to ask what he meant, but the look in his eyes stopped me. That distant, haunted kind that comes from remembering too much.
Silence stretched between us, filled only by the crackle of the fire.
Then Simon moved again, reaching for the cloth he’d used earlier.
“You tore through the bandage,” he said, nodding to my side. “I should check it.”
I stiffened automatically. “No.”
He blinked. “Kit—”
“I said no.”
Simon looked at me for a long moment. “Fine. But if you pass out from blood loss, I’m not carrying you,” he muttered.
“Didn’t ask you to.”
That almost earned a smirk out of me. Almost. But the way he said it wasn’t sharp, more like he was trying to meet me halfway, testing where the edges were between us.
My body betrayed me before I could make another smart remark. Another wave of dizziness hit, sharp and cold. The room tilted.
I must’ve gone pale because Simon was suddenly kneeling beside me again, hands hovering near my shoulders.
“Hey. Easy,” he said.
“Don’t—”
“I’m not doing anything,” Simon pointed out.
He was, though. His hand landed lightly on my arm, grounding me. The touch was firm, steady. It shouldn’t have helped. But it did. My breathing evened out without me realizing it.
I stared at him, at the faint veins visible just beneath his skin, the way his pupils flickered slightly with each heartbeat.
“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” I muttered.
“Not when someone’s dying in front of me.”
“That’s ironic coming from a vampire.”
His lips curved, but not into a smile. “Maybe. I don’t like being what I am.”
That made me blink. “You expect me to believe that?”
He shrugged. “Believe what you want. Doesn’t make it less true.”
The honesty in his tone disarmed me more than any weapon could have.
I turned away, staring into the fire instead. “You could’ve killed me while I was out,” I muttered.
“I thought about it,” Simon admitted.
That made me look back at him sharply, but his expression was unreadable.
“Not because I wanted to,” he added quickly. “Because it would’ve been easier. No hunters. No danger. No wondering if you’d wake up and decide I didn’t deserve to live.”
“And yet you didn’t,” I pointed out.
He met my gaze steadily. “You saved me too. Back there. You didn’t have to.”
“Instinct,” I said. “Bad habit.”
Simon’s mouth twitched. “Then I’m glad for your bad habits.”
It shouldn’t have meant anything. But the way he said it, quiet, grateful and genuine, it settled somewhere deep and uncomfortable.
I leaned my head back against the wall, eyes closing. For a while, neither of us spoke. The fire popped, throwing soft shadows across the floor.
I must’ve dozed, because the next thing I felt was a hand on my shoulder.
“Kit,” Simon said gently. “You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine.”
Simon frowned. “You’re not.”
He hesitated, then reached for the blanket from the couch. It was moth-eaten, thin, but better than nothing. He draped it over me carefully, the way you’d tuck in someone you didn’t want to wake.
His fingers brushed my neck for half a second, and the touch burned hotter than the fire.
“Don’t,” I murmured.
“I’m not feeding,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t say you were.”
But he heard what I didn’t say . That I wasn’t used to this kind of touch. Not from someone I should want dead. Simon sat back down beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost brushed.
For a while, we just sat there. The fire cracked. Wind pressed against the windows. Somewhere outside, something howled.
Simon spoke first. “Will they come looking? The Guild.”
“Maybe.” My voice came out flat. “Maybe not. This mission was supposed to be a joke.”
“What do you mean?” Simon asked.
“I’m a washed-up hunter, Simon. All I do lately is screw up after…” I stopped myself.
I didn’t want to get into the details, yet part of me wanted to tell him about Donovan and Declan. Simon could’ve hidden the fact that his sire was creating monsters, experiments, but he’d been honest with me.
“Anyway, my job was supposed to be investigating this haunted house,” I said. “Then again, there’s a small chance they’ll send someone to check on me. Maybe they’ll see the blood, the fresh grave out back. Maybe they’ll put two and two together.”
He was quiet for a long time.
“So what happens now?” Simon asked.
“Now, I patch up, get back on my feet, and figure out what the hell you’re really doing here,” I answered honestly.
“And if you don’t like the answer?” Simon asked.
“Then you run fast.”
Simon didn’t flinch.
“I won’t run. And I’m here because I don’t have anywhere else to go. I thought about reaching out to old friends or family, but I was never close to my parents. And my friends… I’d just lead my sire’s failed experiments straight to them. I can’t allow that,” Simon explained.
I turned to look at him, and for the first time, I didn’t see fear in his face. Just resolve, quiet and unshakable. I didn’t know what to say to that.
Simon sounded so human. As far from a monster as anything I’d ever met. That was the worst part.
Because as I sat there, bleeding and half-broken, I realized I was starting to understand Donovan. Why he’d lowered his weapon, why he’d chosen the vampire instead of the Guild, instead of me.
I’d spent months hating him for it. But now, with Simon watching me like I was something worth saving, I wasn’t sure I could blame him anymore.
The fire was dying down, the light softer now, flickering against his skin.
Simon turned toward it slightly, and for a second, I caught myself studying the shape of his mouth. The small cut on his lip from the earlier fight. My throat went dry.
He noticed. Of course he did. His eyes flicked up to mine, and something passed between us, quiet, dangerous and magnetic.
Neither of us moved, but the air changed. Thickened. My heart started to pound, traitorous and loud.
Simon’s voice came low. “You should sleep.”
“I’m not tired,” I argued.
“You are.”
“Then why aren’t you?” I asked.
Most vampires I’d hunted didn’t tire easily, but I’d never met one who drank only animal blood. He must be as worn out as I am.
He smiled faintly.
“Old habits,” Simon said instead.
“Like watching people sleep?” I asked, though my voice sounded sharper than I meant.
What was happening to me? Was I flirting with him?
“Like making sure they live through the night.”
That shut me up.
He leaned back against the wall beside me, close enough that I could feel the faint chill radiating from his skin. For a moment, I thought about shifting away. I didn’t.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. At some point, my eyes started to close. The pain dulled to a distant throb. The last thing I remember was the steady rhythm of his breathing beside me.
And just before I drifted off, I felt the lightest brush of fingers against my wrist. Just a touch. A reminder that I was still here, still alive.
By the time I stirred again, dawn was breaking through the cracks in the boards.
Simon was still sitting where he’d been all night, watching the door, keeping watch like he had any right to. For the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel entirely alone.
That terrified me more than any vampire ever could.