Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
JAMES
Irise at sunset and prowl the halls with my usual predatory calm, but tonight the calm feels paper-thin. The mansion lies silent and cold, every shadow seemingly holding its breath. I’m scheduled to hold court here tonight, but first, Taylor and I have unfinished business to attend to.
Her bedroom is the first place I check. Most nights when I arrive here, the sheets are still twisted and half off the bed, the vanity scattered with lip gloss, pins, and the faint chaos that clings to her like a second skin.
Now, the bed is made. The room is neat. Too neat.
Which means she’s been awake long enough for the staff to have tidied it.
Taylor is messy. Her world reflects her mood– untamed, unfiltered, and alive. Seeing her space stripped of that wildness makes something in me prickle with unease.
The library is my next stop, where I find nothing but her ghost. The echo of her laughter clings to the walls, her warm vanilla scent lingering on the pages of the poetry book she’s taken a liking to. No Taylor. No cat, even. Only absence.
I trail my fingers over the spines of books as I do a lap, the gesture automatic, meant to disguise the pulse of irritation and the sharper edge of worry cutting beneath it. I refuse to assume she’s run off. Not yet. Not until I’ve checked the other places she tends to haunt.
The kitchen’s quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the churn of the dishwasher. Not even the cat is lurking, which is rapidly becoming the most unsettling piece of this puzzle. If she were merely out, she wouldn’t have taken the cat– unless she wasn’t planning on returning.
I run through her usual hiding places again, tension climbing by the minute as I pace the main floor in an irritable circuit. I’d have been notified if she called for a car. Yet the more I search, the more it sinks in– she isn’t here. I can’t find her anywhere. I don’t feel her.
A prickle of unease stirs beneath the irritation. I’ve lived long enough to trust my instincts, and they’re telling me something’s off.
I pull out my phone, resorting to using the tracker linked to her bracelet. A small blue dot blinks to life on the map in Midtown: her old neighborhood. Her old apartment.
Somehow, she managed to leave the estate without anyone noticing or informing me.
That alone is… concerning. But if she wanted to vanish completely, she would’ve removed the bracelet.
She knows what it is; what it allows me to do as the owner of Bite.
The fact that she hasn’t means something else entirely.
She wants to be found.
The thrill of the hunt prickles beneath my skin, a smile tugging at my mouth as I send a quick message to the staff requesting a car. There’s a certain poetry to her returning to the place where all of this began– as if it still belongs to her. As if I won’t come there to collect what’s mine.
Vampire wealth buys more than immortality; it buys efficiency. Within minutes, a car is waiting at the front steps. I slide into the back seat, rattle off the address, and let the world blur past as we head toward the city.
The hunger gnawing at me now is layered– not just for her blood, but for her defiance, her fear, her inevitable surrender when she accepts what she already knows: she is mine.
I want her to run. I want her to fight. I want her to understand, in the marrow of her bones, that nothing– not memory, not trauma, not even her own fragile human will– will ever free her from me.
The city unfolds around us, the lights a sickly haze against the stormy night sky.
I lean forward, watching through the windshield as we turn onto her block.
The building looms as decrepit as I remember– flaking brick, sagging stoop, and windows dull with old violence.
The ground-floor laundromat has long been abandoned, its cracked glass streaked with grime.
I imagine her here, haunting the remains of her former life. Feeding the cat, sleeping with one eye open. I wonder if she’s ever truly felt safe anywhere.
The car stops. I step out, the air heavy with the promise of rain.
As I cross the street toward the building, I start rehearsing what I’ll say.
I suppose I could beg. I could threaten.
I could tell her the truth– that this bond is deeper than either of us can grasp, and despite the danger that comes with it, I’d kill anyone who threatened her without hesitation.
The path of least resistance seems best. Let her choose. I tell myself that’s what I want– for her to accept the bond and to return to me of her own free will.
But beneath that lie, a sharper truth lingers. That if she doesn’t, I’ll still claim what’s mine. I’ll find her, chain her to the goddamn wall if I must, and never let her out of my sight again.
Perhaps she’d even find it romantic.
The door to the building is closed, but the lock is worthless. One sharp tug and it pops open, the sound echoing up the stairwell. The air inside reeks of mildew and rot. I take the stairs two at a time, my steps light and soundless even on the ancient treads.
Third floor. 3B. I pause outside, listening.
Low voices hum from within– Taylor’s, and another, female. The friend. Irritating, but I should be able to deal with her quickly enough.
I could easily force my way inside. The door’s got multiple locks, but they’re rusted and weak. Instead, I knock once, hard enough to rattle the frame.
Taylor answers. She looks surprised to see me, but not afraid. Her hair’s piled in a messy bun, cheeks flushed and hazel eyes sharp.
“What are you doing here?” she demands.
I arch a brow. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Behind her, Bex perches on the edge of the futon with her arms crossed, gaze narrowing on me like a challenge. She’s brave, I’ll give her that. Foolishly so.
My eyes sweep over the room. This is the world she’s chosen– at least for tonight. The old walls, the old friends, the old pain. I want to tear it all down and drag her back where she belongs, lock every door, and throw away the damn keys. But the rules are different now.
“Wow, you really can’t take a hint,” Bex scoffs, lips curling.
I ignore her, keeping my attention on Taylor. Her friend is inconsequential. “You planning on hiding here forever, or is this just a nostalgia trip?” I ask calmly.
Taylor shrugs, eyes fixed on the warped floorboards. “It’s none of your business.”
A muscle jumps in my jaw. “Everything about you is my business. Especially after last night.”
Bex barks a laugh. “You ever hear of boundaries, Dracula? She doesn’t belong to you.”
Taylor flinches– barely, but I see it– and something vicious stirs in me.
“She does,” I grit out, shooting Bex a look sharp enough to cut. I resist the urge to cross the room and silence her for good. “Whether she likes it or not, Taylor is mine.”
Taylor’s gaze snaps up, eyes rimmed red. “That’s the problem,” she whispers. “Nobody ever asks me what I want. They just take. Or leave.”
I swallow hard. There’s nothing in my centuries of existence that’s prepared me for this– not wars, not betrayals, not power games or politics. This is new and terrifying; the real possibility that I could actually lose her… and that maybe I actually care.
“Mea dulcis,” I murmur, stepping over the threshold and reaching out to cup her face.
Taylor exhales shakily, then glances back at her friend. “Can we have a minute?”
Bex huffs irritably and stands, giving me a look that says try me. If she only knew how much I’d love to. She digs a battered pack of cigarettes from her purse on the coffee table, slides one between her lips, and points at me as she moves toward the door.
“If you hurt her,” she warns, “I’ll stake your ass.”
I grin, flashing fang for emphasis. “Good luck with that.”
She cuts me a final glare, then slips past into the hall, leaving the faint scent of menthol and cheap shampoo in her wake.
Taylor steps back to let me in. I retract my fangs and close the door behind me, taking quick stock of the place.
Because that’s all it is– a single room.
A studio apartment with mismatched furniture, peeling wallpaper, and the stench of dampness.
It’s complete squalor, and the knowledge that she used to live here tugs at something inside me I thought long dead.
Threads of compassion I shouldn’t have for anyone, least of all a human.
The damn cat is on the countertop licking something from its paw, yellow eyes narrowing the second I enter. He goes still, tail twitching, the fine hairs along his back rising.
We have an understanding, this creature and I: mutual disdain with the perpetual threat of violence.
“Miss me?” I mutter.
He hisses– a pathetically small sound loaded with ferocity.
I bare my fangs again. Not in any actual threat, but sheerly for the small, private pleasure of reminding him who the apex predator is.
He spits out another hiss, leaps from the counter, and streaks across the room in a blur of fur and cowardice, diving beneath the futon.
The urge to pursue flickers, but I smother it easily.
After all, I already hunted last night.
Hunting her was… exquisite. The way she moved through the dark, trembling but defiant, her pulse a beacon I could taste in the air. She liked it– being chased, being caught. Fear looks beautiful on her. And I… well, I’ve never denied how intoxicating her fear can be.
It’s just another way we fit. Predator and prey, bound and burning, circling the same hunger from opposite ends.
My gaze is pulled back to her like gravity. I drink in her effortless beauty, something warm and foreign blooming in my chest.
“You planning to move back in here?” I ask, cutting right to the chase.
“That depends.” Her chin lifts, defiant.
I arch a brow. “On what?”
She folds her arms stubbornly. “On what this really is. Because it’s never been about me, has it? It’s about my blood. The bond. The power it gives you.”
Her voice wavers, eyes glassy. It hooks into something deep; something I don’t have a name for. I fist my hands to keep from reaching for her. I don’t do comfort. But for her…
“I fooled myself into thinking this was something more,” she mutters. “But you just want me for my blood.”
A muscle tightens in my jaw. “I want you for a thousand reasons, Taylor Holt. Your blood was just the first one I discovered.” I step closer, catching her chin and forcing her to meet my gaze.
“You’re clever. You fight back. You see through my posturing.
Most people are terrified of me, but you…
” I trail off, lips quirking. “You’re scared, but you come closer anyway. ”
She rolls her eyes, a tear sliding down her cheek. “So that’s what you want? Someone too stupid to run away?”
“I want someone who runs away, but only because they want me to catch them,” I murmur, pinning her with a hard look. “What is it that you want?”
“I want someone who actually sees me,” she whispers. “Not my body, not my blood, but me. All of me. And chooses me anyway.” She jerks her head aside, blinking fast. “But you didn’t choose this, James. You said it yourself, it’s… biology.”
“So?”
She looks back at me– eyes red-rimmed, face streaked with tears she’s given up trying to hide. “Nobody has ever chosen me,” she chokes out, hiccupping on a sob.
“Is that what you need, for me to choose you?” I growl, catching her around the waist and hauling her into my arms. “Then I do. Just because it’s biology doesn’t mean I don’t have a choice. Let me choose you, darling. Let me take care of you, protect you…”
She twists out of my grip and turns away, shoulders trembling. “It’s not enough. This isn’t a year-long commitment anymore. You’re asking me to agree to immortality– to be tied to you forever. How the hell am I supposed to do that when you haven’t even been honest with me until now?”
I want to grab her. Shake her. Sink my teeth into her until she understands. Instead, I force the violence down, take a breath, and try for something softer.
“You want honesty?” I grit out. “Fine. If it’s love you’re after, I don’t know what that is. I only know possession. Hunger. The compulsion to own and keep. But If you need more, I’ll fucking try. That’s more than I’ve ever done for anyone else. Because I want you, Taylor. Only you.”
She shudders, arms wrapping around herself.
I can’t take it anymore. I close the distance and pull her against me, holding her as she trembles, her tears soaking into my shirt. “What do you need?” I ask, voice low.
“Just… time. To think about all of this.”
I grit my teeth, suppressing the instinct to drag her out the door. The hunger claws at me, gnawing through my composure and hollowing me out with impatience. If she’s left alone to spiral, she might find a way to disappear for good…
And then I’ll burn this entire city to the ground to find her.
“Fine,” I manage, the word rasping like sandpaper on my tongue. “But if you don’t come back…”
She cuts me off, voice raw. “I can’t promise I will, James.
This isn’t a simple contract or a business deal.
It’s literal eternity. So forgive me if I need more than a day to decide if I can give you that.
” She steps back, sucking in a shaky breath.
“You say you’ve made your choice, but if you care about me, you’ll give me the space to make mine. ”
It’s a dagger, and it lands exactly where she intends.
I’ve spent my entire existence– life and afterlife– taking whatever I wanted, no matter who it hurt. I could do the same now. Carry her off. Lock her away. Keep her where she belongs.
But that would break her. And for the first time, I care more about her needs than the satisfaction of getting my way.
Have I gone soft for a human?
I don’t know if I can do this– leave, wait, and trust she’ll come back. But even though it goes against everything I am, for her, I’ll try.
I step in close, brushing my lips against her temple, and then– against every instinct I possess– force myself to turn away and walk out the door.
When I step into the hall, Bex is waiting there, reeking of cigarette smoke and rebellion. She scowls at me, green eyes glinting with malice.
“You’re not so scary, you know,” she mutters. “You just think you are.”
“Bex,” Taylor sighs behind me, exasperated.
I pin Bex with a cold stare. “Take care of her. If anything happens, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”
She gives me a lazy mock salute. “Sure thing, bloodsucker.”
Pity I can’t snap this one’s neck.
With one final glare, I move past her and down the stairs. Behind me, the door clicks shut, their muffled voices fading as I descend.
Outside, the night greets me with rain– cold, relentless, and cleansing nothing. I stalk toward the waiting car, the storm washing the taste of loss from my tongue, but not the hunger.
The hunger never fades.