Chapter 10 Kit/Simon
KIT/ SIMON
KIT
It had been a week since I left the house.
Seven days of pretending I was fine, that nothing unusual had happened, that I hadn’t almost died beside a vampire who’d watched over me.
The Guild didn’t suspect a thing. At least, I didn’t think they did.
I’d gone back to routine. The endless briefings, the dull training drills, the stack of paperwork they gave washed-up hunters to make them feel useful.
I said the right things. I smiled at the right times. I nodded when my supervisor told me I’d be assigned to another low-risk job next week.
Haunted barns. Poltergeist false alarms. Whatever kept me out of sight and out of trouble.
But none of that was what I was thinking about anymore. Every day, without fail, my phone buzzed around sunset. Sometimes it was just a single message.
Simon: You remembered to eat today?
Sometimes it was a photo. The same chair by the fireplace, or a stray cat perched on the porch like it owned the place.
Once, he sent a picture of the clear night sky. Stars caught through broken window glass, a stretch of black-blue that looked too lonely for its own good.
I told myself I didn’t care. That I didn’t need to reply. That it was better this way. Distance, silence, and pretending that night hadn’t happened.
Except I did reply. Every damn time. Short answers, clipped sentences.
Yeah.
Busy.
Stay hidden.
But my chest still tightened whenever his name lit up the screen. I didn’t realize how much I looked forward to them until the one afternoon my phone stayed silent.
I texted Simon.
Kit: Fed yet?
No response. Ten minutes. Then twenty. My stomach twisted.
I shouldn’t have cared. I told myself that over and over. He was a vampire. He didn’t need me checking in like some worried partner.
But the image of him, tired, thinner than he’d been, those faint shadows beneath his eyes, refused to leave my head. Before I realized what I was doing, I was pulling on my jacket.
The streets were mostly empty, a chill wind cutting through the dark. I left Guild headquarters, and took a cab. The old house sat at the end of the road like a shadow of itself.
When I saw the faint light glowing behind one of the curtains, something in my chest eased. He was home.
I knocked once before pushing the door open. The hinges groaned softly, the familiar scent of dust and smoke wrapping around me.
Simon looked up from where he sat by the fire. He didn’t look surprised to see me, just tired. The kind of tired that went beyond lack of sleep.
“Kit,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I shut the door behind me. “You didn’t answer my text.”
“I was resting,” Simon said.
“That’s not an answer.” I dropped the small cooler I’d been carrying onto the table.
His gaze flicked to it, sharp and wary.
“What is that?” Simon asked.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Don’t make it weird.”
He didn’t move. I sighed and flipped the lid open. Inside were a few sealed containers wrapped in brown paper, faintly cool to the touch.
“I told the butcher I needed it for a hunting dog I was training,” I said. “Which isn’t technically a lie.”
Simon stared at me, then let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “You brought me blood.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t have time to hunt a deer myself,” I muttered. “And you clearly haven’t been eating properly, right?”
The silence that followed stretched long enough that I started to regret everything. Then, slowly, he reached for one of the containers.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
I shrugged, pretending to study the floorboards. “It’s nothing. Just don’t starve yourself, okay?”
When I finally dared to look at him, he was watching me with an expression I couldn’t read. Some mix of gratitude and something softer. It made me feel unsteady.
Simon warmed the blood in a metal cup over the fire. I tried not to watch him drink it, but curiosity won out. His movements were restrained, almost reverent, like he hated what he needed.
When he caught me looking, his mouth curved faintly.
“Are you just going to watch me feed?” Simon teased.
I grunted. He smiled. A real one this time, and something in my chest tightened.
We sat in companionable silence for a while, the crackle of the fire the only sound between us. I could feel the tension in my shoulders easing for the first time all week.
“So,” I said finally, “any trouble lately? Anyone suspicious hanging around?”
Simon’s gaze drifted toward the window. The firelight painted half his face gold, the other half in shadow.
“Maybe,” Simon said after a moment. “Two nights ago, I thought someone was following me. But when I looked again, there was no one there.”
“Another of your sire’s failed experiments?” I asked, concerned.
I worried about him sometimes. Maybe too much.
“Could be. Or maybe I’m imagining things. Paranoia doesn’t exactly fade with age.” Simon gave a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re not the paranoid type,” I said quietly.
“I wasn’t. Before.”
Before, before his sire. Before the blood, and the constant need to survive. I didn’t push.
Simon glanced back at me. “What about you? Still breathing?”
“Mostly,” I said, leaning back against the wall. “Surprised the Guild hasn’t revoked my license yet. Guess they still need someone to chase fake ghosts and clean up after rookies.”
His lips twitched. “That bad?”
I gave a small laugh. “Let’s just say morale’s not great. But it’s fine. Keeps me busy.”
“Busy doesn’t mean happy,” Simon pointed out.
“Didn’t say it did.”
For a while, we just looked at each other. There was something fragile in that quiet, something I didn’t want to break. Simon shifted closer, resting his elbows on his knees.
“You didn’t have to come here,” he said softly.
“I know,” I muttered.
“But you did.”
I swallowed hard. “Guess I’m bad at taking my own advice,” I admitted.
His hand twitched, like he was about to reach for me, then stilled. “Kit…”
“Don’t,” I said, not sure what I was asking him not to do. Touch me? Stop me from wanting him to?
The firelight flickered across his face, catching the faint lines of restraint there. I could see it, the effort it took for him to keep distance.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked quietly. “You could report me. You should. You’d probably earn back the Guild’s favor.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want it,” I said.
“Then what do you want?” Simon asked.
I hesitated, because I didn’t know how to answer that. Not really.
The truth slipped out anyway. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just lonely.”
Did I sound too pathetic? His eyes softened. The space between us felt charged, fragile, like if I moved too suddenly the whole world would tilt.
Simon reached out slowly, giving me every chance to pull away. When his fingers brushed mine, I didn’t. His hand was cool, almost startlingly so, but the contact sent heat flooding through me.
“Kit,” he murmured, voice low enough to barely be a sound.
I didn’t know what to say to that and wished I was better at conversations. Should I tell him that sitting next to him was enough?
The quiet stretched again. Then Simon rose, moving to place the empty cup aside. He stood close enough that I could feel the cool brush of air when he turned back.
“You should go,” he said softly.
“I know,” I answered.
But I didn’t move. His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth before flicking back to my eyes. The restraint in that single motion made my pulse stumble.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, more to convince me than himself.
I nodded, forcing myself to step back. “Text me when you’ve eaten properly again.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “Yes, sir.”
“Smartass,” I grumbled.
When I reached the door, I hesitated and looked back. “Hey, Simon?”
He lifted a brow.
“You’re not imagining it,” I said quietly. “Whatever’s following you, I’ll look into it.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Fear, maybe, or something close to relief. “You don’t have to.”
“I know,” I said. “But I want to. I owe you after all. For saving my life.”
SIMON
I’d gotten used to waiting.
It was one of the few things a vampire could still master after everything else faded. Patience. Time stretched differently when you didn’t need to sleep or breathe.
But that night, waiting felt different. Restless and electric.
I’d already fed earlier, just like Kit kept telling me to.
“Keep your strength up,” he’d said, half a threat, half concern, the way only he could manage.
So I’d done as I was told. Just a rabbit, quick and clean. Now, sitting near the window, I caught myself glancing at the road every few minutes like some eager fool.
He’d texted me that afternoon.
Kit: Job’s done. Might stop by tonight.
Might. As if he didn’t know I’d been counting the hours.
I’d thought about what I’d say when he arrived. That I appreciated him checking the area for signs of my sire’s experiments, even when it put him at risk.
That I’d meant to thank him for the texts, for the strange comfort they’d become. That I wanted…what, exactly? To see him smile again? To remember what warmth felt like?
I didn’t know. I just knew the thought of him walking through that door steadied something inside me I hadn’t realized was fraying.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, throwing flickers of orange light over the cracked walls. The old house was starting to feel almost lived in. Like maybe it could belong to someone again.
That illusion shattered the moment I saw movement on the road.
Two figures. Dark coats, steady stride. One of them carried something slung across his back that gleamed faintly under the streetlight.
My pulse spiked. Hunters from the Guild.
Even from this distance, I recognized the telltale details Kit had taught me to spot. The silver-threaded cuffs, the reinforced boots, the weighted step of men used to carrying weapons.
Panic lanced through me, cold and sharp. I grabbed my phone and typed fast.
Simon: Two hunters. Outside.
Kit’s reply came almost instantly.
Kit: Get out of sight. Now. I’m coming.