Chapter 23
Dylan
The scent hit me like a sledgehammer as soon as I entered the apartment. My heightened senses zeroed in on it, and my mind went into overdrive. The fragrance was intoxicating, stirring something primal and ravenous within me. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. My vision tunneled, and my throat burned with a fierce, unquenchable thirst.
I stuck to the shadows, padding silently through the dimly lit room. Stalking my unsuspecting prey. My fangs elongated in my mouth, and my claws extended from my fingertips, sharp and ready to tear. The hunger was all-consuming, overriding any semblance of rational thought.
Fractured, half-formed thoughts stirred somewhere in the back of my mind, but they were clouded by the fierce hunger. The desire to feed thrummed through my veins. The beast in my chest told me to relinquish my control, to give in to pure primal instinct as I had many years ago.
My meal was near the sofa, oblivious to my presence. Vulnerable. Delicious. I had stalked many like her before. I had trailed my prey through the streets of New York. Hungry. Always hungry. I had fed by the light of the moon, in dirty bathroom stalls, behind the movie theater. I had left drained corpses in my wake.
The beast pounced on these thoughts, coaxing me to let go. I crept closer, each step silent and deliberate. I was born to hunt, to feed. Nothing else mattered. I wanted to taste fresh blood on my tongue.
When I was close enough to ghost a hand over her shoulder, she turned.
My nameless prey smiled like she was happy to see me. Her expression coaxed a memory from somewhere in my head. I knew this woman, this was a familiar face. That couldn’t be right. A small voice was calling me to remember, to restrain myself. But the beast roared over it, drowning out any cautionary warnings.
She must have seen the switch, the monster taking hold, because her smile faded quickly, her eyes widening in shock. But it was too late to run. I lunged at her, my body crashing into hers with the force of my frenzied need. We tumbled to the ground, and I pinned her beneath me. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and she struggled, helpless. And I was hungry.
My fangs were inches from her throat, and I could feel her pulse, a tantalizing rhythm that drove me further into a frenzy. The roar in my mind was deafening, drowning out everything but the primal need to feed. I inhaled her scent, the thirst consuming my very being, and prepared to bite down.
But the woman lifted her arms, not to push me away but to hold on. She clung to me, her fingers digging into my arms. She whimpered beneath me, but held my gaze, murmuring incoherently. I ignored her pleading eyes, my jaw itching to close on the soft, pale flesh of her throat. But a word reached my ears, and a prickle of electricity shivered over my skin.
“Dylan…”
I froze, staring at the woman beneath me with fresh eyes. There was something about her. Something the shrill voice in the back of my mind was begging me to remember. The beast urged me onward, but I held back, rolling the name on my tongue, catching it between my teeth.
“Dylan.” She said it again, more firmly this time, though her voice was hoarse with fear.
Her touch, desperate but incomprehensibly gentle, was a lifeline pulling me back from the brink. Her eyes, wide with terror, bore into mine. She didn’t fight me; she reached out to me, touching tense, quivering fingers to my cheek.
The spark on contact was a shock to the system and the memories came flooding back, drowning out the wailing beast that clawed and thrashed in defeat.
The mating bond pulsed between us, a connection that couldn’t be severed by mere instinct. Her touch was soft, her fingers brushing against my skin, and something in me began to crack. The haze began to lift, and I could see the real Amara in front of me, not just a vessel for my insatiable hunger.
“Amara?” I whispered, my grip loosening. I could feel the bond between us, the fragile yet unbreakable link that anchored me to her. She was my mate, I remembered, and hurting her was the last thing I wanted. Recognition flooded in, replacing the primal hunger with sheer horror. Amara’s terrified eyes were fixed on mine, and I saw tears welling up, her breath coming in deep, shaky gasps.
“Amara!” I said it louder, my stomach churning with regret as I wrenched myself off her. “Shit – I’m so sorry!”
I ran my hands through my hair, crushed under the weight of what I’d almost done. Amara looked shaken but unhurt, her eyes still wide with fear.
She signed her words with shaky hands, watching me warily as she sat upright. "I'm all right."
I dropped to my knees beside her, my hands trembling. “What happened? How did I – why –”
Amara winced and drew her knees up, cautious like she expected me to launch myself at her again. But despite her trembling body, she managed a small, dubious smile. Her hands moved again, shaking violently, but conveying her familiar grim humor. “Shouldn’t I be asking you? You’re the one who jumped me.”
“I – I don’t know why I did it.” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. Internally, I felt awful, sick with the realization that I had allowed my hunting instincts to take over. I had no idea what had come over me, what drove that primal hunger to such an insatiable degree, only that Amara’s touch had brought me back.
"Your scent was overwhelming," I signed tensely. "More so than usual. I can still feel its effects, even now."
My fangs were still extended, unable to retract despite regaining control. I pushed a finger under my top lip and lifted it to show her. Amara shivered in response, but she was not radiating terror in waves like she had the first time she’d glimpsed them.
Her eyes trailed to the coffee table and I followed her gaze. An unfamiliar satin box sat open there, an ornate bottle of what looked like perfume standing beside it. Before I could ask, Amara’s eyes widened and she quickly snatched up the bottle, shoving it into the satin box and stuffing it between the sofa cushions. Almost immediately, the cloying scent abated slightly and my eyes snapped back to Amara.
She was one step ahead of me, signing with urgency. "It must be the perfume!”
“Where the hell did it come from?!” I signed and spoke the words, lifting another cushion and pressing it into the sofa to stifle the scent that still permeated the air.
When that didn’t work, I settled for flattening my palm over my nose and mouth, and holding my breath when I needed my hands to sign. As the bloodlust receded, my mind cleared completely, racing to find the missing pieces of the puzzle.
The scent stuck to Amara, but with my head cleared it was obvious that it wasn’t her scent. Amara smelled like a morning after rainfall, fresh air, and flowering blossoms. The intoxicating mist surrounding her must have come from the perfume bottle, clinging to her pores and marking her as living prey.
Amara stilled suddenly, her expression flattening as she stiltedly signed back. “My father gave it to me. He told me to wear it at the ceremony."
And just like that, a piece of the puzzle clicked into place, leaving me reeling. My arms dropped to my sides and I voiced my thoughts aloud. "He wanted me to attack you."
My mind raced, and a memory surfaced – the night River and I were attacked, the way River went rogue out of nowhere. The same overwhelming scent had filled the air then. I recalled River's frenzied state, how uncontrollable she’d been.
“It was the same perfume,” I realized, my voice trembling. “Don must have sprayed River with it too. He was testing it on her, driving her into a frenzy. That’s why he wanted you to spy on me, to learn my movements.”
The implications were staggering. It would mean that Don knew what we were. Vampires. He’d tailored the perfume to drive us into a bloodlust. And then he’d given it to his daughter, knowing what it would do.
My stomach dropped, and I felt a cold wave of dread wash over me, “He knew,” I said, my voice hollow. “He knows what I am. And he wanted me to kill you.”
My lips had probably moved in a blur too fast to make sense of, but Amara came to the same realization I did. Her expression shifted from shock to something that looked painfully close to heartbreak, and then to furious anger. Tears welled up in her eyes again.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves before speaking and roughly signing at the same time. “Amara, if we're going to figure out what's going on, we need to be honest with each other.”
I held her gaze, trying to convey my sincerity. “I don’t care how ugly the truth is. I just want to protect you.”
For a moment, Amara looked like she was going to close up or scream. I could see the epiphany overwhelming her. The fact that her own father was ready to throw her life away to further his own schemes. But then she took a deep breath, steadying herself, and began to sign.
When it was clear I couldn't quite keep up, she uttered a muffled word or two, spoken language unpracticed on her tongue. She looked ashamed at each utterance, but I titled my head, offering a reassuring smile and urging her to continue.
“Don sent me into this marriage with no intention of sticking to the proposed peace,” she told me, her hands trembling slightly. “I don’t know what his end goal is, but he wanted me to spy on you.”
She hesitated, her eyes searching mine for understanding. “And I have been. I’ve been reporting everything back to him. I was only biding my time with this marriage. I had a book deal… I’ve been waiting for the payout. I was… I was going to leave the moment I got it. I was going to run from my father… and from you.”
My eyes widened at her words, but I held my tongue, gesturing for her to continue.
“But now… I don’t know if I can leave. I don’t want to run from you. And it’s clear I can’t trust my father at all anymore.” She paused, her eyes reflecting the turmoil within. “I was already suspicious when I saw the white-haired lady – ” She corrected herself quickly, signing, “Dragon shifter” instead.
“But now, with the perfume and Don wanting to harm me… there’s no doubt that Don will go to any lengths to achieve his goals. I don’t know what that means for you, or for your people.”
I listened in silence, absorbing her words. Amara looked afraid, like she expected me to turn her out immediately. Instead, I gently took her hands, my fingers brushing over her knuckles. “It’s okay,” I said softly.
Taking a deep breath, I let go of her hands and lifted them up to sign my own admission, mouthing the words slowly to make up for my unpracticed gestures. “I haven’t been completely honest with you either. I suspected you were a spy from the very beginning. We knew the marriage was a ruse and Jordan had me sweeping Don's territory to keep an eye on him and his activities.”
I paused before continuing, choosing my words carefully. “I’m also not the only vampire in New York City.”
Amara looked confused, then a little alarmed but remained attentive. I explained. “The Leyore Syndicate is not a gang at all. We're a coven. There are vampires all over the city, and they all answer to Jordan, the leader of our coven…”
I explained why we were really having problems with Don, detailing how he was stealing our weapons and interrupting our supply of fresh blood for all coven members.
Amara’s eyes grew bigger and bigger as I went on, and I could see her struggling to process everything.
“Even River?” she signed, hands moving in a wavy motion.
I nodded. “Yes, even River.”
“Maxine too?” she asked out loud, her expression incredulous.
“Yes, Maxine too. Even if she does look like a walking cupcake,” I confirmed, smiling slightly at the shock on her face. “Vampires come in all shapes and sizes. Some are born, and some are made. But they’re all sworn to the Leyore coven and are forbidden from preying on unwilling humans.”
Amara raised a brow at “unwilling,” and I sheepishly explained. “Some humans enter into contracts with vampires. The human offers blood, and the vampire shows them a good time or spoils them. It’s all consensual and beneficial for both parties.” I hurriedly added that last bit when she looked appalled.
As I explained more about vampire life and the Leyore coven, I noticed the tension in Amara’s shoulders easing slightly.
We talked well into the night. When we had both laid everything bare, shown our hands and spilled out secrets, we sat in silence together. The apartment seemed both quieter and fuller at the same time. The silence was comfortable, a stark contrast to the tension-filled exchanges we were used to. It felt good not to keep secrets from her anymore, And from the look of exhausted relief on Amara’s face, it was clear the feeling was mutual.
After everything, neither of us wanted to be alone.
We ended up in my bedroom, standing awkwardly on either side of the bed. The proximity was almost unbearable, the air charged with the memory of our earlier entanglements. I could feel my pulse quickening, my body recalling the way it had melded perfectly to hers. I could see the same thoughts mirrored in Amara’s eyes, her cheeks flushed.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then, with a small, almost shy smile, Amara slipped off her shoes and climbed into bed. I followed, and the mattress dipped under our combined weight. We lay there stiffly, side by side, each acutely aware of the other's presence.
The silence stretched on, filled only by the soft sounds of our breathing. I turned my head to look at her, taking in the way the moonlight played across her features. She was beautiful, even more so in the vulnerable intimacy of the present moment.
Slowly, I reached out and touched her hand, my fingers brushing against hers. She turned her head to meet my gaze, her eyes soft and questioning. Without a word, I shifted closer, slipping my arm around her waist. She hesitated for a heartbeat, then shuffled closer still, resting her head on my shoulder. Her tousled hair tickled my throat and I could feel the warmth of her breath against my skin.
The bond between us was undeniable, and despite the chaos of our lives, this truth was the one solid thing I could cling to. Despite all odds, I had found my mate. Or more accurately, she had kicked down my walls and found me. I didn’t voice it to her yet, but the admission settled in my heart, bringing with it a sense of peace.
Amara's heartbeat thrummed against me, a steady, reassuring rhythm that lulled me. I tightened my hold on her, feeling the way her body fit perfectly against mine. The connection between us was electric, yet soothing, a paradox that felt entirely natural.
For the first time in a long while, I felt myself relaxing. The tension ebbed away, replaced by a gentle contentment. Amara snuggled closer, her arm draping over my waist as she nuzzled into my shoulder. I could feel her heartbeat slowing, syncing with mine as sleep claimed her.
I watched her for a while, my mind wandering over the events that had led us here. The danger, the deceit, the revelations – they all seemed distant now, overshadowed by the warmth of the woman in my arms. As her breathing deepened and she drifted off, I allowed myself to close my eyes. Her presence was a balm to my troubled mind, her touch a grounding force that kept the darkness at bay.
I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and finally let sleep take me, my lullaby the steady thud of her heartbeat.