Chapter 18
Night has fallen by the time I find the small cobblestone street not too far from Holyfield Cemetery. My boots crunch softly in the snow, and my heart is already pounding. I suck in a snow-filled breath, wrap my scarf tighter around my neck, and press through the curtain of white.
After our conversation, I asked Delia where I could find Hayden, and she gave me his address.
Hayden’s house stands alone at the end of a row of charming, historic homes.
His is the most picturesque, a single-story brick Victorian house with a small fenced-in yard and a satin-black door.
It looks like a Christmas card right now, dusted in the sumptuous cover of powdered-sugar snow.
A surge of dread roils my stomach: The reminder of Christmas just feels like a countdown tightening a noose around my neck.
I ease open the lustrous iron gate, rush down the slippery walkway to his glossy door. I raise my fist. My heart is absolutely thundering. I swallow hard against the lurch of nerves.
Please don’t turn me away.
I knock on Hayden’s door. It yanks open so fast, I startle back. Hayden’s eyes go huge when he sees it’s me.
“Rose?” he breathes in shock. My entire body clenches at his low, rough voice, at how he nearly fills the entire doorframe with the lean muscles of his broad shoulders.
Ugh, I was not prepared for how he looks.
It’s clear he wasn’t expecting guests. Hayden’s dark hair is rumpled and soft—like it’s recently dried from a shower, like maybe he’s been running his hands through it all day.
He’s wearing only a plain white slim-fit T-shirt and cobalt-blue boxers.
I swallow hard at the bare stretch of his legs, the way his cotton shirt shows the shape of his firm stomach.
His beautiful face seems a little tired, the shadows beneath his eyes more prominent than I’ve seen.
But it doesn’t make him look worse. The opposite. He looks soft, vulnerable. So touchable. So gorgeous.
“Hayden,” I say, “I—”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Hayden snaps darkly, all softness vanishing, his eyes flaring with anger. He takes a step closer, looming over me. “I already told you why. You need to go. Now.”
“No,” I say, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “No, I need to talk to you.”
Hayden’s eyes smolder with something so fierce that for a moment I’m terrified he’ll slam the door in my face and that’ll be it.
Instead, he turns around, disappearing inside his house.
I chase after him, my pulse rocketing. I’m so, so sick of him running from me.
But I’m also very aware that he could easily have me out on the street with a flick of his wrist. It’s a deliberate choice to let me follow him into his house. I let that glimmer of hope bolster me.
“Hayden,” I call, closing the door behind me. He doesn’t answer. I take in the space. It’s surprisingly elegant and understated for an eighteen-year-old boy. But maybe not for a vampire.
The small entryway houses a dark walnut coatrack holding a single, expensive-looking jacket. The walls are painted a tasteful light gray, the trim a rich charcoal. It smells of woodsmoke, and when I turn into his large front room, I see why.
The high-ceilinged, beautifully appointed room is anchored by a huge, stunning fireplace on the opposite wall, crackling merrily with a stack of lit logs.
It was built using large, polished river stones, tightly packed by pale mortar.
A low-slung beige leather sofa sits before the fire, an open book splayed face down on the cushions. Was Hayden reading before I got here?
“You get five minutes.” Hayden’s back, tugging on a pair of jeans.
I watch, rapt, as he pulls up his fly, then buttons them closed.
Why was that so hot? My mouth’s suddenly dry.
“Rose? I’m serious.” Hayden stalks toward me, glowering.
“Say what you need to say, because this is it. I’m not fucking around.
” There’s a sudden desperation in his voice.
“You can’t be near me. I won’t allow it. ”
Anger rises within me, swift and sudden. I snatch it, hold it close.
“Okay, you know what?” I say, gritting my teeth. “That’s the problem right there, Hayden. You don’t allow me to do anything. I allow me. Do you understand? And I’m allowing myself to be with you.”
“What?” Hayden’s eyes narrow. I close the distance between us, crane my neck to meet his eyes.
“I don’t care about any of it,” I say. “I don’t care if it puts me in danger. I don’t care about your stupid curse.” Hayden’s head jerks like I’ve struck him.
“Easy for you to say that,” he mutters darkly. “You’re not the one left alone in the world when the curse strikes. You’re not the one left holding your dead body.” I swallow hard against the pinch in my chest and step forward.
“It’s my life, Hayden,” I cry out, grabbing his shirt.
“My risk. Stop deciding for me. Yeah, I’m a human, and maybe eighteen years is like ten minutes for you, but for me, it’s my entire life.
An eternity to live feeling like something’s always been missing.
An eternity spent feeling lost and alone.
“I’ve spent my entire life in a windowless, pitch-black box.
Do you know how cruel it is? To show me the sky and let me feel the wind on my face and then force me to go back to living without light?
Without you?” My eyes spill over, and I clench harder at the cotton in my hand.
Hayden’s lips part, his expression shattered.
“I’m not afraid of death,” I whisper. “I’m not afraid of anything except living a life without knowing your touch. ”
“Rose,” Hayden grates out. He squeezes his eyes shut. His hand hovers above both of mine where they still fist in his shirt. I feel a faint tremble in his chest, like he’s trying very hard to keep himself still.
But then Hayden wrenches out of my grasp and goes to lean against the fireplace mantel.
“You should be afraid,” he says. I take an involuntary step back at the dark threat in his voice. “You forget what I am. What I was.”
“I don’t,” I say hoarsely. I walk to where he stands, glaring down at the fire.
“I don’t forget. I don’t care that you’re a vampire, Hayden.
I don’t.” I reach up slowly and, with a single finger, turn his face to mine.
He allows it but refuses to meet my eyes, keeping them ducked.
“I thought I was waiting for you for just this entire life, Hayden,” I whisper.
“But I’ve been waiting for you for all of my lives.
Hundreds of years. My soul remembers, even if I don’t. Don’t you miss me?”
Hayden takes a ragged inhale, his fingers twitching on the mantel. He turns his face from me. I put my hand on his chest again.
“Don’t you miss my touch? You remember it, but I don’t. Can’t you remind me? Teach me?”
“Rose,” Hayden growls, sounding pained. He grabs my wrist, but I’m ready for him. I catch his arm and pull his hand to my neck.
“I trust you,” I whisper, my heart slamming.
“I trust you, Hayden.” His beautiful face is open and raw, his eyes trained where his thumb rests at the tender underside of my jaw.
When he slides his finger to my jumping pulse, presses down to feel it, he makes a low, hungry sound in the back of his throat.
I gasp and squeeze his arm. I’m not exactly sure what I’m asking for when I beg him, “Please.”
Hayden releases me with a furious sound.
In a single, fierce move, he rips one of the river stones from the fireplace mortar, as easy as plucking a grape from a bunch, and shows me the large rock in his palm.
His fist closes around the stone, and when his fingers splay back open, Hayden’s holding a handful of fine powder.
“You shouldn’t trust me,” he says darkly, eyes narrowing to slits.
His show of strength isn’t unaffecting. The alarm from before returns, the tiny spike of adrenaline. But it pales in comparison to the huge leaping arousal flooding my body, the certainty that he would never, ever hurt me.
“I know what you’re doing.” I blow on the small pile of dust, scattering it to the wooden floor.
Hayden falters, eyes flicking from his empty palm to my face.
“And it’s not gonna work. You can’t scare me off, Hayden.
In fact,” I say, “you’re the one who should be scared. Because I’m never gonna give up.”
When I wrap my arms around his neck, his eyes get huge, and for a moment he looks terrified. I rise on my toes, pull Hayden’s face to mine, and, light and soft as a moth’s wing, I brush my lips against his.
Hayden goes absolutely still. Rigid. Nonresponsive.
I hold there, my mouth barely touching his. I don’t want to pull back and see his face, see the anger or disappointment or, worse, pity as he considers how to let me down easy. Have I overplayed my hand? I think with horror.
Have I just ruined everything?
A loud, broken sound unleashes from Hayden’s throat, and suddenly, he’s kissing me back hungrily, so desperate. It unleashes something in me like a clawing, starving animal.
“I tried not to,” Hayden rasps, already sounding ruined.
He sweeps me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, his one hand beneath my bottom, his other tangling in my hair.
“I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t, Rose, but god help me, I’m not strong enough anymore—” I tilt my head at a better angle and silence Hayden with a demanding kiss, taking advantage of his parted lips.
Hayden makes a truly inhuman sound, low, rough, and needy, and I squeeze his hips with my thighs, digging my nails into his scalp.
He breaks off our kiss with a loud, wet sound, licking the flat of his tongue against the base of my throat, dragging it up to my chin.
“So good,” he breathes, “fuck, Rose.” And the words make me roll myself against him, my body knowing what it wants before I do.
It is the single most delicious, perfect moment of my life.