The Vampire's Forbidden Mate

The night my mother told me she was getting married, I knew something was wrong. Not because she was getting married. Because she looked afraid. We were sitting across from each other at the dining table, and the only sound in the room was the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall. My mother kept twisting the ring on her finger. I'd seen her nervous before. Never like this. "Mom," I said carefully. "What's going on?" She looked at me. For a moment, she didn't answer. Then she smiled. It was the kind of smile people gave when they were trying to hide something. "I've met someone." I blinked. "Someone?" She nodded. "His name is Victor." I leaned back in my chair. "You have a boyfriend?" A small laugh escaped her. "Apparently." I couldn't help smiling. "And you didn't tell me?" "I wanted to be certain first." "How long have you known him?" My mother's fingers stopped moving. "Long enough." That answer made my smile disappear. "How long is long enough?" She looked toward the window. Outside, rain slid down the glass, turning the city lights into blurry streaks of gold. "Six months." "Six months?" She nodded. I stared at her. "Mom, that's not something you casually forget to mention." "I know." "And you're marrying him?" Her expression softened. "Yes." I didn't know what to say. My mother had raised me alone for most of my life. She had always been careful about who she allowed into our lives. Now she was telling me that a man I'd never met was going to become part of our family. "Is he good to you?" Her eyes met mine. "Yes." "Does he make you happy?" Another pause. "Yes." I studied her face. She looked sincere. That should have been enough. It wasn't. "When do I meet him?" "Tonight." I nearly choked on my drink. "Tonight?" My mother nodded. "He'll be here soon." I stared at the front door. Something about those words made the room suddenly feel colder. Then— Knock. Knock. Knock. My mother froze. Neither of us moved. Three slow knocks. I looked at her. "Is that him?" She stood. "Yes." She walked toward the door. I followed. The moment she opened it, the temperature seemed to drop. A man stood on the other side. Tall. Impossibly composed. He wore a black coat despite the relatively warm weather, and rain glistened on his shoulders. His face was unreadable. His eyes were darker than I expected. He looked at my mother. Then at me. And something changed in his expression. Only for a second. But I saw it. Recognition. As though he had seen me before. "Elena," he said. My heart skipped. I had never met this man. "How do you know my name?" His expression returned to normal. "Your mother has told me about you." I glanced at my mother. She looked uncomfortable. "Come inside, Victor." He stepped into the house. As he passed me, I noticed something strange. He didn't smell like rain. He smelled like cold earth and something metallic. I couldn't explain why it bothered me. Maybe it was the way he looked at me. Not like a stranger meeting his future stepdaughter. Like someone who had spent years searching for something. And had finally found it. --- Dinner was awkward. My mother talked most of the time. Victor barely touched his food. I noticed. He noticed me noticing. "You don't eat much," I said. His eyes lifted. "I've already eaten." "Before coming here?" "Yes." My mother gave me a warning look. I ignored it. "What do you do?" Victor leaned back slightly. "Business." "What kind?" "Various investments." That wasn't an answer. "What kind of business?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "Why are you asking?" "Because you're marrying my mother." Silence. Then, surprisingly, he smiled. "Fair enough." He looked at me for a moment. "I own several companies." "What companies?" "Real estate. Security. Transportation." Security. Transportation. The words sounded ordinary. But somehow, coming from him, they didn't. I pushed my plate away. "Where are you from?" "Europe." "Which country?" "Several." I frowned. My mother sighed. "Elena." "What? I'm just trying to get to know him." Victor smiled again. "You don't trust easily." "No." "Good." I stared at him. He said it so casually. "Why is that good?" "Because trust should be earned." For the first time that evening, I thought maybe I understood him. Then his gaze moved to my hands. I quickly pulled them into my lap. There was a small cut across my knuckle from training earlier that day. I practiced self-defense regularly. My mother hated it. She always said I didn't need to learn how to fight. I disagreed. Knowing how to protect yourself was never a bad thing. Victor's expression changed. His eyes focused on the tiny spot of blood. For one brief second, something almost predatory flashed across his face. Then it disappeared. "Are you hurt?" I looked at my hand. "It's nothing." Victor stood abruptly. "I need some air." He walked away from the table. I watched him disappear into the hallway. Something was wrong. I just didn't know what. --- Later that night, I stood beside my bedroom window. The rain had stopped. The house was quiet. I was about to close the curtains when something caught my attention. A black car was parked across the street. The engine was running. I couldn't see the driver clearly. But I could see someone sitting inside. Watching the house. I reached for my phone. Before I could take a picture, the car drove away. My stomach tightened. I stepped back from the window. Then I heard something behind me. A voice. "You shouldn't be standing there." I spun around. Victor stood in my doorway. I hadn't heard him enter. "How did you—" He looked toward the window. "Close the curtains." "Why?" "Because someone may be watching you." My blood ran cold. "What?" He walked toward the window and pulled the curtains shut. "From tonight onward, don't open your bedroom window after dark." I stared at him. "Why are you acting like someone is trying to kill me?" He didn't answer. "Victor." He finally looked at me. And for the first time, the calm expression disappeared completely. His eyes looked almost ancient. "Because someone may already know you're here." My throat tightened. "Who?" He turned toward the door. "I don't know." It was a lie. I knew it immediately. He reached the doorway. Then stopped. Without looking back, he said quietly, "And Elena?" "Yes?" His voice became colder. "If you ever hear someone calling your name from outside this house after midnight..." He paused. "Don't answer." The door closed. I stood frozen in the middle of my room. Then, from somewhere outside— I heard my name. "Elena." My heart stopped. The voice came again. Soft. Almost gentle. "Elena..." I slowly turned toward the window. The curtains moved. Something was standing behind them. And whoever it was— knew my name.