Chapter 19
Nineteen
FLYNN
Adapting to the new house has been easier than expected. I find myself smiling every time I see a sign of Talulla—her books scattered across surfaces, her coffee mugs left in random rooms, the faint trace of her jasmine shampoo lingering in the air long after she’s left a space.
In all my years of non-living, I’ve never felt the need to feel the presence of someone like this. Maybe I just don’t remember what it felt like to be taken care of, to take care of someone.
And taking care of Talulla isn’t easy. That woman is a hurricane—stubborn, brilliant, self-destructive in ways she doesn’t even recognize. She pushes back against protection like it’s a cage rather than a safety net.
But I’m glad she listens to me. And I’m happy to see her trusting me with her life.
That trust does something to me. Something dangerous.
Yes, because the idea of her being scared of leaving the premises is definitely not something I wanted, but I sorta was expecting it.
She needs to work on her trauma, and if she continues to postpone it, I don’t know what will remain of her.
The cracks are already showing—the nightmares, the way she tenses when someone approaches from behind, the split second of calculation in her eyes when we’re in crowds, always mapping exits and counting threats.
But I’ll put it back together. Piece by piece, I’ll make sure she gets her life back.
She knows I’ve been hiding things. She knows I’ve been on the edge, and what is absolutely shocking is how she’s not pushing me to say what it is. That trust again—giving me space, believing I’ll tell her when I’m ready. It makes my dead heart ache in ways I didn’t know were still possible.
I’ve been keeping Cassandra updated on the notes situation because yes, we might have not received any new ones in the mail, but what I’ve been omitting is that I’ve been getting cryptic texts from unknown numbers.
Messages that make my blood run cold despite the fact that nothing can truly chill a vampire.
Your little hunter looks lovely in that blue dress.
Does she know what you really are?
Time’s running out.
Emil. It has to be. The same taunting tone, the same psychological games he’s played for decades. The text from Halloween night—right when Talulla was luring those vampires outside—had nearly made me lose focus entirely. Nearly got us both killed.
Enjoying the party? I do love a good costume. Though you’re not really in costume, are you?
And I’ve already changed my digits four times. I’m kinda done with it. But he keeps finding me, keeps slithering through every defense I build. Like he wants me to know that nowhere is safe, that he can reach me, us, whenever he wants.
“This is the first time I fully move in with a boyfriend,” I hear her mutter as she looks at her closet filled with new corporate clothes.
I’m sitting on our bed, phone in hand, staring at the latest message that came through twenty minutes ago.
Big day today. Hope nothing goes wrong.
The words feel like a noose tightening.
“And the last,” I add, trying to go back and pay attention to her and not at the small screen in my hand. I force myself to lock it, to put it face down on the nightstand. Talulla deserves my full attention, especially today.
“Yeah yeah, possessive vampire, first and last,” she replies, kissing my cheek. The warmth of her lips against my skin is a shock—it always is. Living warmth against dead flesh. “Now let me get dressed.”
“I’ll prepare you a cup of tea.”
“I can’t believe you’re depriving me of coffee.”
“I’m absolutely not. Besides, you like tea.” It’s a small lie—I do monitor her caffeine intake, worried about how it affects her sleep, her anxiety levels. But I’d never admit that outright.
She tilts her head to the side and positions her hands on her hips. “And I can’t believe you made me like tea,” she replies, and I can’t help but smirk as I take a look at her.
She’s just in her underwear—navy lace that makes her skin look luminous—and well, she clearly doesn’t understand what a woman like her in underwear does to a man. Does to me.
Her pulse is visible at her throat, a steady rhythm that calls to something primal in me.
I can hear her heartbeat from across the room—strong, healthy, alive.
The scent of her blood is right there beneath her skin, sweet and warm and absolutely intoxicating.
After all the denial, of keeping myself in check, my control is threadbare.
“Tea is better for you.”
“You worry too much about my well-being.”
“I’d like to keep you alive for a while.” A long while. Forever, if I could manage it.
“Jee, thanks.”
I snort. “Go get dressed before I make you really late for your first day.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would. Your punishment is up, little hunter, I can have all the fun I want.” And god, do I want.
The hunger is a living thing inside me, coiled tight, waiting to strike.
Not just sexual hunger—though that’s there, fierce and demanding—but the other kind.
The kind that makes my fangs ache in my gums. And I do blame the lack of intimate activities on that.
“True, but you’re a very extravagant man, and there’s no way you’d waste our first time back in bed like this.” And with that, she winks and leaves the room.
Touché.
I do have quite the night planned already.
Reservations at Marcus’s private dining room, the one reserved for supernatural clientele where the staff knows not to ask questions.
The red silk gown I commissioned is being delivered this afternoon—floor-length, backless, the kind of thing that will make every head turn when she walks in.
And after dinner, I’m bringing her home to our bed where I plan to make her forget her own name.
Now that we aren’t nomads in hotel rooms anymore, we can truly enjoy our bed. Yes, because I could take her anywhere, and maybe I’ll fuck her on every surface she can think of, but we’re starting in our bedroom, on our bed.
Ours.
Mine and hers.
The words sink deep into me, and realization hits me like the perfect storm.
I have to tell her everything tomorrow, after we celebrate tonight.
I’ll tell her everything—about her father, about the real reason I’m so paranoid about security.
I’ll tell her how I was turned, full story and what I know about her own trauma.
About her grandmother’s death. She will understand how she doesn’t need to fear anymore.
I’ll update her on all the texts, and we will both start truly healing.
And if she decides it’s time to write a eulogy, then I guess I’ll prepare my coffin and pay for the funeral, because I’d embrace my eternal sleep knowing she’s the one who took me out.
Breaking News: Vampire staked by his own girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
Seems a little juvenile. Not permanent enough. Lover. Partner. Consort. My entire world. Wife. Now that would be quite the change for me. A vampire marriage—I don’t even know if such a thing can even happen. But with Talulla, I’d figure it out. I’d make it real.
The boiler starts beeping, and I pour the water into two cups and let the tea bags steep. This is when Talulla finally joins me, all prepared. All proper.
All utterly beautiful.
A simple wing of eyeliner, some mascara, and a nervous but excited smile on her face.
She’s wearing a tight navy pencil skirt and a burgundy silk blouse that clings to her curves in ways that make my mouth go dry. Her hair is pulled back in a low bun, professional and sleek, exposing the elegant line of her neck.
That pulse point. Right there. Just beneath her jaw.
I can hear it. Smell it. The rush of blood through her veins is like a siren song.
“I’m taking you out to dinner tonight,” I say, handing her the cup of tea. My voice comes out rougher than intended. “We have lots to celebrate.”
“Flynn, we don’t have to.”
“It wasn’t a question. I’m taking you out for dinner tonight.” My tone comes out a little harsher than expected, but I was also not ready to start a fight when she’s already worrying enough about making a good impression on her new boss.
And she won’t ruin my plan. I want to spoil her, and I fucking will.
“What do I have to wear? Is it a fancy pl—”
I cut her words short, crushing my lips onto hers. Always worrying about things that she truly doesn’t need to worry about.
The kiss is meant to be brief, reassuring. But the moment our lips meet, the moment I taste her, warm and alive, something in me fractures.
I can feel her pulse against my mouth, racing faster now from the kiss. Her blood is right there, so close I could—
No. What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to remain in utter control.
I pull back before I do something that I’ll absolutely regret.
“You only worry about your first day.” Another soft peck, carefully controlled.
“Leave everything else to me.” I move up and brush my lips on her temple, breathing in her scent.
Jasmine and something uniquely her, mixed with the copper-sweet promise of blood just beneath the surface.
“And do let me know if anyone tries to do or say anything to my precious red ruby.”
“I know how to defend myself, Flynn.” She raises an eyebrow. “Besides,” she continues, “you’re making me bring a Doberman to work with me.”
I snort at her comeback about Jonathan. The comparison is precise—Jonathan is loyal, protective, and knows exactly how to follow orders. “I never said you couldn’t. I simply asked my girlfriend to let me know if anything happens,” I say with a crooked grin.
Her jaw drops. “You’ve never called me your girlfriend before.”
“Isn’t that what kids these days call each other when they do what we do?”
“I—yeah, I guess they do.”
“Go, my love, I don’t want to make you late.”
Talulla starts to walk toward the entrance closet to grab her trench coat. And I follow her, paying attention to every move. The sway of her hips in that pencil skirt, the way the silk blouse catches the light, the slight nervousness in her movements that she’s trying to hide.