Chapter Nine
Dakota stared at his laptop screen, the cursor blinking mockingly in the middle of a half-finished line of code. He’d been sitting here for the better part of an hour, and the progress bar of his productivity was hovering somewhere around fifteen percent. Maybe less. Probably less.
The problem was simple—Kivani existed.
More specifically, Kivani existed in his apartment across the hall, doing whatever it was that shifters did on any given night, and Dakota’s brain refused to focus on anything else.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard, poised to type, but all he could think about was the way Kivani’s hands had felt on his waist earlier.
The sound of that purr rumbling through his body.
The taste of honey-lemon taffy and something uniquely Kivani when they’d kissed.
Dakota groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face.
This was ridiculous. He was twenty-four years old, not some teenager with his first crush.
He had work to do. A client deadline looming.
Bills to pay that required him to actually finish this project instead of daydreaming about his stupidly attractive landlord who could turn into a tiger.
His landlord who was also apparently his cosmic soulmate, according to the whole mate-bond situation.
That thought sent a flutter through Dakota’s stomach that he tried very hard to ignore.
He forced his fingers to the keyboard and managed to type out three lines of code before his mind wandered again.
Back to Kivani’s smile. The way he’d been so patient about explaining the shifter thing, never pushing, never demanding Dakota accept something he wasn't ready for.
The apartment was getting warm. Dakota could feel sweat starting to gather at his hairline, making the bleached strands stick to his forehead in a way that was deeply annoying.
He stood up from his bed where he’d been working propped against pillows and crossed to the window.
The old frame protested as he pushed it up, the wood swollen from humidity.
He managed to get it open about six inches before it stuck, but the cool night air that filtered in was immediately better.
He returned to his bed and his laptop, pulling his hair up into a messy knot.
The breeze from the window felt good against his heated skin, carrying the smell of pine trees from the mountains.
He could hear the faint sounds of the town settling in for the night.
A car passing. Someone's television. The building itself creaking as it always did.
His fingers found the keyboard again. He read back what he’d written, made a few corrections, and started typing.
The code began to flow, his brain finally engaging with the problem he was trying to solve, the functions and variables and loops that made sense in ways his personal life currently didn’t.
The sound came from somewhere behind him. Small. Almost nothing. Like fabric brushing against wood or feet moving across the floor.
Dakota’s hands stilled on the keyboard. He tilted his head, listening. The building was old. It made noises constantly, especially at night when everything cooled down. Pipes knocking. Floorboards settling. Nothing to worry about.
He went back to typing, but the rhythm was broken. His ears strained for another sound, some confirmation that he’d actually heard something or proof that his imagination was working overtime.
Nothing. Just the quiet hum of his laptop fan and the distant sounds from outside.
Dakota shook his head at himself and focused on the screen. He was being paranoid. Bennett had spooked him, made him jumpy, and now every normal house sound was registering as a potential threat. He needed to get over it. The door was fixed. The lock was solid. He was safe in his own apartment.
But the feeling didn’t go away.
It started as a prickle at the back of his awareness, something his hindbrain registered before his conscious mind caught up. The sensation of being watched. Of not being alone. The air in the room felt different somehow, charged with a presence that hadn't been there moments before.
Dakota stayed very still, his eyes on the laptop screen but his attention focused entirely on the room around him. Listening. Feeling. Trying to identify what had changed.
The breeze from the window stirred the curtains. His laptop fan continued its quiet whir. Outside, that car finished passing and the sound faded into distance.
Nothing else. No footsteps. No breathing. No indication that anyone was in his apartment other than him.
Except the feeling wouldn't leave. It pressed against Dakota’s awareness like a hand on his shoulder, insistent and impossible to ignore. Someone was here. Something was wrong.
His first thought was Kivani. Maybe his tiger had come to check on him, used some shifter ability to get past the locked door. But that didn’t make sense. Kivani would have knocked. Would have called out. Would never just sneak into Dakota’s space without permission.
Dakota closed his laptop slowly, the click of the screen meeting the keyboard too loud in the quiet room. He set it aside and stood up, his bare feet silent on the laminate floor. His heart was beating faster now, adrenaline starting to trickle into his bloodstream.
“Hello?” he called out. “Is someone there?”
No answer. Just the breeze and the building settling and the sound of his own breathing getting faster.
Dakota moved toward his bedroom door, each step measured and careful. Everything beyond his room was dark, illuminated only by the streetlight filtering through the windows. Shadows pooled in corners, behind furniture and in doorways.
He reached for the light switch and flipped it.
The overhead fixture blazed to life, flooding the apartment with harsh yellow light that made him squint.
Everything looked exactly as he’d left it.
The couch where he’d sat with Kivani. The small kitchen table with his mail stacked on it.
The new door with its shiny lock mechanism.
Empty. Completely empty.
Dakota exhaled slowly, feeling foolish. He’d worked himself up over nothing. Let his imagination run wild because Bennett had violated his space and now every shadow looked like a threat. He was being ridiculous. Childish. Letting fear control him when there was absolutely no reason to be afraid.
He walked through the apartment anyway, checking behind the couch, in the bathroom, inside the closet. Each space revealed nothing except his own belongings. No intruders. No vampires lurking in corners. Just Dakota and his overactive imagination.
The kitchen was empty. The bathroom was empty. The closet held only his clothes and the boxes he still hadn't unpacked, because who actually unpacked everything when moving?
Dakota stood in the middle of his living room and laughed at himself.
The sound came out strained, edged with the remnants of fear, but it was still a laugh.
He was losing it. Completely losing it. This was what happened when you found out supernatural creatures were real and your ex-boyfriend was one of them.
You started jumping at shadows and hearing things that weren't there.
He just wasn't used to being alone anymore. That was the problem. The last few weeks had been filled with Kivani. Working in the shop together. Having meals together. Falling asleep on his couch after making out until Dakota’s lips felt bruised.
Being alone in his own apartment felt strange now, foreign in a way it hadn't before.
Dakota was overreacting. Making something out of nothing. He needed to go back to his room, finish his work, and stop being such a mess.
He was already mentally composing the embarrassing text he’d send Kivani tomorrow about how he’d freaked himself out like a child afraid of the dark.
Shaking his head, Dakota turned toward his bedroom.
And walked directly into someone.
The impact was solid, immediate. A body where no body should’ve been. Dakota’s brain stuttered, trying to process, and then he looked up into Bennett’s face.
The scream tore out of Dakota’s throat, raw and terrified.
He pivoted to run, his feet scrambling for purchase on the smooth floor, but Bennett’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
The grip was iron, impossible to break, and then Bennett was pulling him back, using Dakota’s own momentum against him.
Dakota hit the floor hard, his shoulder taking the impact, sending pain radiating down his arm.
He tried to roll away, to get his legs under him, but Bennett was already on top of him.
The vampire's weight pressed him down, pinning him, and Dakota’s second scream came out muffled as Bennett’s hand clamped over his mouth.
“Shh.” Bennett’s voice was calm, almost soothing, like he was gentling a spooked animal. “Stop fighting. You’ll just hurt yourself.”
Dakota bucked anyway, his body moving on pure instinct. His hands clawed at Bennett’s arm, his nails digging into skin, but the vampire didn’t even flinch. Just held him down with one hand over Dakota’s mouth and the other gripping both his wrists, rendering him completely immobile.
“There we go.” Bennett’s face hovered above Dakota’s, his expression almost fond. “Much better when you stop struggling.”
Terror flooded Dakota’s system, making his thoughts scatter.
How had Bennett gotten in? The door was locked.
The window was only open six inches, nowhere near enough for a person to fit through.
Unless vampires could do something Dakota didn’t know about.
Unless they could slip through cracks or materialize from shadows or any number of impossible things that were apparently possible now.