Chapter 10 Kit/Simon #2
I didn’t waste a second. The fire damn it. I hadn’t even thought of the smoke. I crouched and doused it with the water bucket, choking on the steam as the flames hissed out.
The light died, leaving the room in half-shadow. Footsteps crunched outside.
My chest tightened. Every instinct screamed to run, but where? The house was surrounded by open ground. If I bolted, they’d see me before I got twenty feet.
The boards creaked downstairs.
“Smell that?” one of them said. His voice carried, muffled through the floor. “Fire. Fresh.”
A pause. Then another voice. “Upstairs. Someone’s been squatting.”
They were coming.
I turned in a slow circle, desperate for somewhere, anywhere, to hide. The windows were boarded, the attic crawlspace too exposed.
My eyes landed on the narrow closet near the bed. The same one I’d used to stash my few belongings. It would have to do.
I slipped inside, easing the door shut just as boots thudded on the stairs. The small space smelled of dust and wood rot. I pressed my back against the wall, willing myself to stillness.
The hinges downstairs groaned again. Voices drifted up, closer now.
“Check the rooms.”
Light flared briefly under the door. Someone had a flashlight.
I didn’t breathe, couldn’t. The air felt heavy, clinging.
Another voice, almost right outside the door. “Nothing. Just dust and old furniture.”
“Then what’s the smoke from?”
“I told you. Probably some vagrant trying to keep warm.”
A pause. Then the first one said, quieter, “Doesn’t smell right. There’s something else here.”
My stomach dropped. They could smell it. The faint trace of blood, or me. I reached blindly for anything to use as a weapon. My fingers brushed against a wire hanger.
I snapped it in half and gripped the sharp end, absurdly aware of how useless it would be against trained hunters.
The floorboards creaked again. Closer. And then—
The door yanked open. I flinched back, arm raised, only to freeze.
“Simon.”
Kit’s voice.
Relief crashed through me so hard my knees nearly gave out. He was sweating, hair damp, breath ragged. The faint scent of iron and dust clung to him. He’d run all the way here.
“Kit—”
He didn’t let me finish. He reached in and caught my wrist, pulling me against him before I could react.
“Shh,” he breathed against my ear. “They’re still here.”
I went still, every nerve screaming at the closeness of him. His chest pressed to mine, heartbeat steady despite everything.
His arm came around my shoulders, holding me there. Not roughly, not like restraint, but as if he needed the contact as much as I did. Outside, the hunters’ voices drifted down the hall.
“Looks abandoned to me.”
“Maybe. Let’s check the rest.”
Kit’s hand tightened slightly at my waist. I could feel the tension in him, every muscle coiled, ready.
For a heartbeat, it didn’t matter that he was human and I wasn’t. We were just two creatures trying not to die. We waited.
Footsteps receded slowly, then the slam of the front door broke the silence. Kit didn’t move immediately. His breath brushed my temple, quick and uneven.
“They’re gone,” he whispered.
I let out a shaky exhale I hadn’t realized I was holding. The broken hanger slipped from my fingers. He drew back just enough to look at me.
His hand was still on my arm, his thumb brushing absently against my sleeve like he couldn’t quite stop touching me.
“Are you okay?” Kit asked, voice low but steady.
I nodded, though my throat felt tight. “You got here fast.”
“Yeah, well.” Kit tried to sound flippant, but I could hear the fear under it. “You didn’t think to run?”
“There wasn’t time,” I explained.
He gave a humorless laugh. “You and your death wish.”
“I didn’t ask you to come,” I pointed out.
“Yeah,” Kit said, eyes dark and burning. “You didn’t have to.”
Something in the way he said it hit deeper than it should have.
We stood there in silence, inches apart, the faint glow from the streetlight seeping through the cracks in the boards and catching on his cheekbones.
I could smell the salt of his sweat, the scent of his body wash.
“You shouldn’t risk yourself for me,” I said finally.
“And you shouldn’t still be here.”
“Where else would I go?” I demanded.
He didn’t answer. His jaw tightened. Then before I could blink, he reached out, fingers curling in the front of my shirt, pulling me close.
“Kit,” I began.
He kissed me. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was heat and frustration and fear all tangled together. The kind of kiss that felt like it had been waiting for too long.
For a heartbeat, I froze, stunned by the sheer intensity of it. The taste of salt, the scrape of stubble, the warmth of him pressing close enough to make me forget what I was.
Then instinct took over, and I kissed him back.
The world narrowed to that single, impossible point of contact. His hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me steady.
My fingers tangled in his jacket, clinging like I could anchor myself there.
He tasted alive. Breath and heartbeat and something bitter-sweet that made my fangs ache, not from hunger, but from wanting.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. His forehead rested against mine, eyes still closed.
“Hell,” Kit muttered, voice rough. “I shouldn’t have done that”
“Don’t,” I said softly.
He opened his eyes, searching my face for something. Regret, maybe, but all I felt was the echo of that kiss, the weight of what it meant.
“Simon.” He said my name like it hurt.
“You think I haven’t wanted that?” I asked. My voice shook, but not from fear. “You think I don’t—”
Kit stopped me with a quiet sound, half a sigh, half a plea. “This isn’t supposed to happen.”
“Maybe not,” I whispered. “But it did.”
Outside, the night settled again, quiet except for the faint chirp of crickets.
Somewhere far down the street, a car door slammed. A reminder that the world was still moving, still dangerous. But here, in this fragile pocket of peace, none of that mattered.
Kit’s thumb brushed my jaw, light as a breath.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
“So are you.”
He huffed out a faint laugh. “Guess we’re both idiots.”
“Guess so.”