Chapter 10_The Bite Before the Fall
456 Words
The next morning, the bed was empty.
Evi sat up, her sheets still warm.
Lucien had vanished sometime before sunrise, like a dream that didn’t belong in the daylight.
But his scent remained.
And her skin still burned.
She couldn’t focus in class. Couldn’t eat. Could barely speak to Zara without her voice catching.
> “You good?” Zara asked at lunch.
> “I’m fine,” Evi lied.
But she wasn’t. She was wrecked. Flushed. Haunted.
That night, she stood in front of the mirror, gripping the sink like it could keep her grounded.
> “You’re not falling for him,” she told her reflection.
> “You’re not stupid.”
But her reflection stared back, lips slightly swollen from where she’d chewed them. Pupils wide. Skin too hot.
She was so far gone, she couldn’t even lie to herself anymore.
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She didn’t expect him to return that night.
But he did.
This time, he didn’t come through the window.
This time, he walked in the front door like he belonged there — darkness curling behind him like a storm cloud.
> “Lock your door,” he said.
> “Why?”
> “Because I’m not leaving this time.”
The air shifted.
He closed the distance between them, step by slow, burning step — and when he reached her, he didn’t stop.
He grabbed her chin, tilting her face up.
> “Say stop,” he whispered.
But she didn’t.
Her breath trembled. Her pulse screamed.
He leaned in, nose brushing hers. His lips hovered so close it made her ache.
> “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he murmured.
> “Neither do you,” she whispered.
Then — finally — his lips touched hers.
Slow at first.
Velvet. Barely-there.
Then deeper. Darker. Hungrier.
His hands slid down her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. She gasped into the kiss, and he took advantage of it — his tongue slipping in, tasting, claiming.
She gripped his shirt like a lifeline.
He made a sound — low, guttural — the kind that made her thighs squeeze together involuntarily.
> “You’re dangerous,” she breathed against his mouth.
> “So are you.”
His lips trailed to her jaw, then lower, until his mouth hovered at the crook of her neck.
> “Lucien…” she whispered.
> “Don’t stop me,” he growled.
> “I won’t.”
His fangs grazed her skin. Not breaking. Just teasing.
But then — a knock at the door.
Lucien froze.
His eyes darkened, glowing faintly red.
> “Someone’s here.”
> “Who?” she whispered.
> “Someone who doesn’t smell human.”
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- Writer
