Chapter 11 Simon
SIMON
Kit hesitated, then leaned in again. Slower this time, almost tender. The second kiss was different. Softer. The kind that didn’t need to prove anything.
When Kit drew back, he looked at me like he was memorizing every line of my face.
In the back of my mind, I wondered where this was going. If we’d already crossed the line we couldn’t uncross. But I couldn’t bring myself to care.
The night outside was quiet. The faint glow from the dying fire brushed against Kit’s skin, painting him in shades of amber and shadow.
His pupils were wide, the blue of his eyes nearly swallowed whole.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.
He tilted his head. “Like what?”
“Like I’m not dangerous.”
Kit gave a soft huff that might’ve been a laugh. “You saved my life, Simon. That’s not something monsters usually do.”
I wanted to remind him that we saved each other. I also wanted to tell him that I was still dangerous. Even now, I could hear the faint rush of blood under his skin.
Could feel the thrum of his pulse calling to me. However, the words wouldn’t come. Because instead of fear, he reached for me.
His hand brushed my jaw, rough fingertips tracing the edge of my throat, the corner of my mouth.
“You’re trembling,” Kit said.
“So are you,” I managed.
We stood like that for a moment, suspended between sense and something heavier. Then he leaned in, slow enough that I could’ve stopped him. I didn’t. The kiss this time was deeper and hungrier.
Kit’s hand slid into my hair, fingers curling at the nape of my neck, drawing me closer. I could taste the faint trace of whiskey on his tongue, the salt of sweat and the warmth of living skin.
It was dizzying. Wrong and irresistible.
I’d never felt heat like that. Not since before I’d turned. It was as if the hunger in me had shifted, reshaped itself into something human again.
I wanted to taste him for all the wrong reasons. Not just for the blood, but for the spark beneath it.
When I broke the kiss, it was only because my control was slipping. Kit’s breath brushed my lips. His thumb lingered just beneath my jaw, right where my pulse would’ve been if I were still alive.
“You stopped,” he murmured.
“I had to.” My voice was barely a whisper. “If I didn’t…”
Kit studied me, eyes dark and unreadable.
“You wouldn’t hurt me.” Kit sounded so sure. Like it was a fact, not a hope. That trust hit me like a blade turned inward.
I stepped back, but Kit followed, closing the distance with quiet certainty. His hands found my shoulders, his thumbs tracing small, grounding circles over my collarbone.
I could feel the warmth seeping through his palms.
Every instinct screamed at me to move away, to stay safe behind the line that had kept me alive this long. But his touch made that impossible. It made everything impossible.
“Kit,” I warned, though my voice didn’t sound like mine anymore.
He didn’t answer. Instead, his forehead brushed mine, breath mingling, our noses almost touching.
“Then don’t think,” he said quietly.
Don’t think. A simple command. I could do that. I reached up before I could stop myself, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the faint stubble there.
He leaned into it, and for a fleeting, dangerous second, I let myself imagine what it would be like if things were different.
If I wasn’t what I was. If he wasn’t bound to a life that demanded he kill me for existing. The thought made my chest ache.
Kit’s thumb brushed over my lower lip, and my breath hitched. His gaze flicked down to my mouth, then back up.
“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmured.
“Sorry,” I said.
Kit smiled. “Then maybe I should distract you.”
The next kiss wasn’t gentle. It burned. He pressed me back against the nearest wall, his body fitting against mine with a heat that made my skin prickle.
My hands found his shoulders, his back. Muscle and tension beneath worn fabric, and I clung to him like something fragile and necessary.
We discarded our clothes and Kit reached for me again, his touch hungry.
It wasn’t graceful. It was desperate and real. The scrape of teeth, the sharp hitch of breath, the way our mouths met and broke and found each other again.
The world narrowed to nothing but him. The weight of his body, the sound of his voice, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat hammering against my chest.
I grabbed his hand and led him to the bed.
The mattress creaked as I lay down and Kit straddled me. He began kissing me again, leaving a trail down my throat and my chest.
He took one of my flat nipples in his mouth and sucked, making me cry out. Kit kissed his way lower, down my ribs, finally wrapping his tongue around my thickening member.
Needing something to hold on, I gripped the sheets, groaning as he began working me. Kit bobbed his head up and down, and I drowned in need.
It didn’t take long before I bucked my hips and Kit pulled his mouth away. I came, moaning, wanting more, wanting to feel Kit inside me.
I got on all fours, and I could hear Kit fumbling for his jeans. I took a quick peek over my shoulder and saw Kit pulling out lube from the pocket of his discarded jeans. Then he returned to me.
Eagerly, I parted my legs for him, moaning as I felt the cool lube and his fingers in my passage. Kit slid one, then two digits inside me, widening me for access.
Once Kit deemed me ready, he replaced his digits with his cock. I gasped as he entered me, slow and steady. Kit took his time, as if he was worried about hurting me.
Once Kit was balls deep inside me, I urged him on.
“Ride me, Kit,” I whispered.
Kit complied. He started with a steady rhythm, before picking up speed. It wasn’t long before he reduced us both to pants and moans, animal noises.
Each time Kit entered me, it felt like he breathed life into my wilting soul. Before being turned, I’ve had a healthy dating life but none of the men I’ve seen made me feel the way Kit did.
It didn’t take long for Kit to come. He gripped my hips and at his next push, he climaxed. Hearing him was music to my ears and I soon followed.
I flopped on the bed, entire body languid. Kit soon slid next to me, spooning me. He was so warm, so real. Mine, I thought. He was mine.
Suddenly, I felt a rush of hunger, rising sharp and hot behind my ribs. My fangs ached. My body reacted before my mind did.
My lips brushed the curve of his throat, and his pulse thundered against my mouth. Kit didn’t pull away. That trust, blind and reckless trust, was what saved him. Because it jolted me out of it.
I drew back, gasping like I’d surfaced from deep water.
“Kit, no,” I whispered.
He blinked, dazed. “Did I, did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I said quickly. “No, you didn’t.”
My hands trembled as I ran them through my hair. The hunger still burned, low and insistent, but I forced it down.
“You don’t understand what it’s like to want someone and need them at the same time. I could hurt you without meaning to,” I admitted.
Kit’s expression softened, and he curled closer to me. “You won’t.”
“You can’t know that,” I said.
“I do.” He said with such conviction I almost believed him. Kit pressed our faces together, cupping the back of my neck. “If you were going to hurt me, you would’ve done it that first night.”
The memory of the first night we met flashed through me. I let out a shaky laugh.
“You really shouldn’t have that much faith in monsters,” I told him.
“Maybe I’m bad at following rules,” Kit said with a grin.
Something inside me cracked open then. I reached out, caught his wrist, and pressed his palm against my chest. Right over the place where my heart should’ve been beating.
“See?” I whispered. “Nothing.”
Kit stared at our hands, then looked right it.
“You don’t need a heartbeat for this,” he said softly.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The night pressed in around us, the air heavy with unspoken things. Then he leaned in once more, and I met him halfway.
This time, the kiss wasn’t about hunger. It wasn’t about need or guilt. It was slow and deliberate. Like we both understood how fragile the moment was. His lips were warm, steady, grounding.
When he finally drew back, he rested his forehead against mine, and I realized my hands were still trembling.
We stayed like that, lying next to each other, letting the silence stretch between us until it wasn’t heavy anymore.
“I should go,” Kit said.
“Yeah,” I murmured with reluctance. I wanted to keep him here with me a little longer. “You probably should.”
Neither of us moved. Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windowpanes. Somewhere, far off, a dog barked. But all I could hear was the faint hum of his heartbeat, steady and alive.
Soft, gray-blue dawn filtered through the cracks in the boarded windows, tracing thin lines across the dusty floorboards.
It painted Kit’s skin in muted gold where the light touched him. Along his jaw, the curve of his throat, the faint rise and fall of his chest.
I should be sleeping by now, but I couldn’t. The thought of closing my eyes, of waking up to find him gone without a word, had been enough to keep me sitting there, watching the fire fade into ash.
Every time I blinked, I saw flashes of the night before. The feel of his hands, the perfect way our bodies had felt, the way I’d almost…
My stomach twisted. The hunger had passed, but the shame hadn’t. Kit stirred with a low groan, stretching beneath the thin blanket, his hair a mess of dark gold in the morning light.
When his eyes finally blinked open, he squinted up at me, confused at first. Then his mouth curved into a sleepy grin.
“You’re still up?” he asked, voice rough from sleep.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said quietly. “Wanted to see you before you left”
He pushed himself up to sit.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Kit remarked.
“I know.” I hesitated, then added, “I wanted to.”
That earned me a small, crooked smile. The kind that made my chest ache in a way I didn’t understand. He rubbed a hand over his face, and for a moment I just watched him.
I didn’t know how to tell him that being near him made me remember what it felt like to be human.
Kit noticed me looking. “You like what you see?”
“You know I do,” I answered.
Kit grinned, then sobered when he saw my expression. “Hey. You okay?”
I forced a nod. “Fine.”
That was a lie, of course. The image of his pulse under my lips, the memory of how close I’d come to losing control, it still haunted me.
I could have killed him. One wrong breath, one second of weakness, and it would’ve been over. Even worse, I could have claimed him, cursing him.
Kit leaned forward a little, elbows resting on his knees. “You don’t look fine.”
“I just didn’t expect you to stay last night,” I said, trying for something that sounded like casual. “I don’t exactly have five-star accommodations.”
Kit chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I’m here for you. I don’t care about the place.”
I didn’t have a reply to that. He looked out the window where the sun was just beginning to climb.
For a moment, the light hit his face in a way that made him look almost otherworldly. Like he didn’t belong in this broken house, in this fractured life.
“I have to head back soon,” Kit said finally. “They’ll start asking questions if I don’t show up.”
“Right,” I murmured. “Of course you need to go.”
I inwardly winced, because I hadn’t meant to sound so pathetic or needy.
Kit shot me a look, which was half teasing, half something else.
“You make it sound like I’m ashamed of being here,” Kit said.
“Aren’t you?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Kit frowned. “No.”
The word landed between us like a spark. I didn’t know what to do with it. I wanted to believe him, but I should know better. Kit stood, tugging on his jacket.
“I’ll check in later,” he said casually, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “Maybe bring you something to eat.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” he said with a smile.
Kit moved toward the door, and I followed him without meaning to.
“Kit,” I said.
He turned back, eyebrows raised.
“This…” I gestured vaguely between us. “It can’t happen again.”
His smile faltered, but only for a second. “Because of what you are?”
“Because of what we both are,” I said. “If we keep this up, someone’s going to notice. The Guild. Or worse. One of my sire’s creatures.” I swallowed hard.
“If they find you, they won’t stop to ask questions,” I added.
He studied me for a long moment, then stepped closer. Too close.
“Then we’ll just have to take care of them together,” he said.
I wanted to tell him how stupid that sounded, how dangerous. But the quiet certainty in his voice silenced me. He believed that. Heck he meant it.
The light caught on the edge of his hair, on the curve of his cheek, and I realized I’d been memorizing him the way he’d memorized me the night before. I forced myself to look away.
“Be careful,” I said finally.
“I always am.”
That was another lie, but I didn’t call him on it. Kit hesitated at the door, hand resting on the frame. For a moment, I thought he might say something else.
Instead, he just gave me that small, tired smile.
“See you, Simon,” Kit said.
Then he was gone. I stood there for a long time, staring at the door long after it had closed, listening to the faint echo of his footsteps fade down the path.
Part of me wanted to yell at him not to come back. Tell him that every time he stepped through that door, he was risking everything. But the truth was, I didn’t want him to stop.
I sat down by the cold hearth, running a hand through my hair. My thoughts were a mess of hunger and guilt and something dangerously close to longing.
Kit didn’t see the tremor in my hands, the faint ache still burning under my skin from where I’d held him. He didn’t see how close I’d come to losing control.
Maybe it was better that way. As I wanted to protect him, I wasn’t sure I could protect him from me. Still, when my phone buzzed an hour later with a single message, I smiled.
Kit: Made it back. Miss you already.