CHAPTER FOUR || JEREMY
I woke up hours later. The moon had already set, and the sky overhead was still dark but shading more purple than black, the stars already beginning to vanish. That told me it was an hour, give or take, before sunrise.
The vampire was curled in my arms, his eyes closed, but his chest didn’t rise and fall.
No heartbeat beneath his breast, only silence.
He was pale, of course, like most vampires.
And tall—just a hair under six feet, two inches shorter than me.
He was more compact, though. His body was lanky and lean with muscle in a way that reminded me of a jungle cat. A panther, perhaps.
Though his coloring was all wrong for that.
His hair was golden, cut and styled with expensive precision, though long enough to run my fingers through.
His features were delicate and sharp, almost aristocratic.
His lips were a little too full for a man, just like Ian’s had been.
But there was an almost cruel set to them that my former mate could never have pulled off.
If I was being honest, that was oddly intriguing.
Deep in sleep—or whatever it is vampires do to rest—he looked soft and innocent, like he wouldn’t harm a fly.
I was thirty-two years old, and he looked maybe ten years younger. Of course, that meant very little. He could have been a hundred. Or even older. He could have been the oldest thing in the forest, older than the trees themselves, and there wouldn’t have been a single wrinkle on his face.
What the hell had just happened?
I had looked at him and known this strange, unfamiliar vampire was home in a way I could never have put into words.
He even smelled like home. His scent was the forest I’d grown up protecting: pine tar from the evergreens, mixed with the richness of soil and the green brightness of moss after rain. Alive and brimming with possibility.
But how was this possible?
Vampires were cold, unfeeling monsters. Every wolf knows that.
They’re an affront to nature. Everything has seasons: it is born, it flourishes, it grows old, and it passes back into the shadows.
Even werewolves, with our long lifespans, eventually age.
Not even nature herself is exempt. She follows the same cycle each year.
Everything living does.
Except vampires. They’re outside the eternal dance of life and death, stealing vitality from others.
How could this… thing… be my mate?
It wasn’t possible. Wolves don’t mate with vampires. Sometimes with humans. Rarely with witches or warlocks. Mostly with other wolves.
Never with the dead.
The irony was sharp.
I was already broken. First by losing Ian, then by the savage way I had tried to replace him with James. I had tried to twist my pack into monsters just as bad as the ones we hunted. As bad as the one curled in my arms right now, no doubt.
Though he hadn’t seemed so awful when I was making love to him.
He had seemed like a miracle.
Which probably showed just how far gone I was.
Maybe this was fate doing me a kindness. I had failed to save Ian. And now I knew it was better— safer —not to love anyone ever again. To shove everyone away before I could lose them too. Before my choices could cost them their lives.
But this golden-haired vampire could never love me. Vampires aren’t capable of love. Or any real emotion at all. The only thing they care about is pleasure. And survival.
That thought decided me. The trees would provide plenty of shade from the sun, even if he was young enough for it to weaken him. He would be fine. He could take care of himself.
I needed to leave. Preferably before he woke and tried to talk to me.
As if hearing me, he rolled away enough to free my arm, still deep in sleep.
Warily, I pushed to my feet, trying to make as little noise as possible.
The forest was silent and murky with the first traces of dawn. The cloud cover overhead was rapidly lightening. Moisture hung in the air, promising rain. Better to be in wolf form for that, and to find cover.
I turned to go.
Then, behind me, the vampire let out a soft whimper.
I froze. The sound was a knife to my heart.
Slowly, I turned back.
He moaned low, curled into a ball, his back to me. He looked almost small.
Another ragged sound escaped him.
“No,” he whispered, thick with sleep. He shuddered, drawing tighter. “Not him, please. Don’t.”
It was the only evidence he was still living.
Or whatever vampires do.
Still, he was clearly having a nightmare. Strange, because what could scare a monster with no emotions?
I gritted my teeth. But I was already too far gone to let him suffer another second.
I bent down and shook him awake.
His eyes snapped open. He blinked twice, confusion twisting his face.
“Who are you and why am I naked?” he murmured sleepily.
His voice was softer and warmer than I’d expected.
He sat up and yawned. Then his gaze locked on me and he froze.
He stared, wide-eyed, his lips parting and his eyebrows shooting up.
“Well, now. This is a new and interesting way to wake up, isn’t it? ”
Then he leapt to his feet in a movement so fast it looked—even to my senses—like magic. Faster than any wolf. Faster than any creature I had ever seen, even the worst horrors from the bleeds between this world and the next.
Unease swept through me. I should have left. He was a predator. A powerful one.
“My clothes,” he muttered, scanning the ground.
I pointed mutely ten feet away.
“Right,” he muttered, striding to snatch up his pants and shimmy into them. His movements were fluid, graceful. He zipped up and grabbed his shirt. “Right. Because we—”
Then he broke off, horrified. It seemed to sink in exactly what we had done.
I scowled at his expression.
“And it’s never happening again!” he snapped, yanking his shirt on. “Ever.”
I blinked at the accusation. I’d just been having my own doubts, but the way he said it pissed me off.
“ You kissed me ,” I reminded him.
“An act of temporary insanity!” he hissed. “I was under a spell! And you were naked and right there ! What’s your excuse?”
I frowned, confused. What did he mean—under a spell? What kind of spell would make him fuck a stranger in the woods?
He finished dressing, then glared. “And why are you still naked?”
I arched a brow. “What’s wrong? Afraid you’ll tear your fancy clothes off again and let me—”
“If you finish that sentence, I’ll rip your throat out.”
Despite the danger, I grinned. He looked so pristine and delicate—even with pine needles in his hair and his clothes rumpled—that rough and tumble seemed laughable.
Well, almost laughable. He’d held his own just fine earlier. My cock stirred at the memory.
He saw it and swallowed hard, paling further.
“No. Absolutely not!” He tore his gaze away. He looked shaken. “This is a side effect of the spell. Nothing more.”
He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“You keep saying that.” I cocked my head. He didn’t look monstrous. He looked… beautiful. Ethereal but sharp-edged, like a poisonous flower. Deadly. “What sort of spell?”
“One I’m not getting into with you. Ever,” he snapped. “I’m leaving. If you follow, you’ll regret it.”
“Are threats of violence love language for all vampires or just you?”
A cold smile curved his lips, making him seem even more dangerous. “No,” he said softly, locking eyes with me. “I’m not just any vampire. I’m extra special.”
Then he turned and vanished into the woods.
Again, I was startled by his speed. Not even a blur—one moment there, the next gone. Faster than any vampire I’d ever seen.
Still, as I stared after him, I found myself smiling. Strange. I hadn’t smiled—really smiled—in years.
I should have felt relief. Or the instinct to chase him down and make him admit he belonged to me. He was my mate. My true mate. I didn’t like it, but my feelings didn’t change a damn thing.
Instead, I felt almost amused. And unworried he’d left. A bone-deep part of me knew we’d meet again. If it was destined, it would be.
Though I might still try to fight it.
“You know what?” I said aloud, to no one but the trees overhead. “I don’t doubt it. You probably are extra special.”
Then I shifted into wolf form.
In sharp contrast to my human self, every part of my wolf clamored to chase him. I forced myself to run the other way. The sun was almost up.
But even as I ran, I couldn’t shake what he’d murmured before waking: Not him. Don’t.
The thought clung to me, ephemeral and inescapable like a ghost as I ran for miles, deeper into the forest. Because if he truly couldn’t care for anyone but himself, why would something bad happening to another person bother him at all?