Page 26 of Of Hearts and Hunters (Fallen Crowns Duet #1)

VERITY

I ’m numb.

That’s the only way to describe how I feel. It’s like I’m looking down on someone else living my life because nothing touches me or makes me feel anything. Work, sleep (whatever that is), rinse, repeat. And that’s it.

Briony is a zombie. She hasn’t wanted to talk about Paxton’s death. She hasn’t even wanted to draw or paint. I know it’s killing her not to do anything creative, but I bet sitting down and tapping into that energy would force her to think about him. Hell, I can’t think about Paxton, either. But I don’t really have a choice. Everything changed the second he died on the battlefield because of that asshole vamp. Worst of all, Paxton was trying to protect me and the Koramas stuck on the battlefield, ultimately causing his death.

If I didn’t hate myself before, I sure as hell do now.

Speaking of change, I’m back at that rickety old table at The Azalea Tavern. It’s the morning of the funeral. Megsie is sitting across from me, hands on her lap. She has no briefcase or fond smile like two full moons ago. Instead, she’s wearing a somber expression with exhaustion brewing behind her aqua eyes.

I feel like my tiredness is dragging me down, too. We haven’t done much other than guard the surviving members of the Korama community. I haven’t talked to anyone other than Megsie, Briony, and Bodhi. I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast this morning. Grief is eating away at my life like one of those flesh-eating bacteria things.

Another thing gnawing away at my insides is the mystery surrounding how I survived that fucking raid in the first place.

I can’t remember shit about my almost-death. One minute, those vamps were chomping down on me, eating me alive. The next, I blacked out. I thought I was a goner.

Who saved me?

And why?

“So, we’re agreed?” Megsie asks, cutting through my foggy thoughts. She’s fiddling absently with the coffee mug that she hasn’t even looked at since Bodhi brought it ten minutes ago. I’m already on my second cup–from here. I’ve had five in total today and it’s not even nine o’clock yet.

Getting back to Megsie, she’s looking in my direction, but her eyes are trained behind me or beyond me. She looks like she hasn’t even taken a breath in two weeks.

I can’t say I agree with her, but it’s not like I have much of a leg to stand on, here.

And then it hits me. Again.

I’m the Kormi now.

I have more power, more authority, than I had before as the Kormo.

What I say and do have more importance now than ever before.

“No offense to Paxton or anything, but she’s never been my favourite person,” I admit.

Paxton adored his sister. I don’t like saying anything too nasty about Chiara now because he’s dead, but–

She’s still a bitch. The only things we agree on are that Vampyrs can’t be trusted and that they need to pay for what they did to our Korma.

Megsie bites down on a smile for the first time in fourteen days. “I’m aware of that, Veri. But she’s always wanted to prove herself. She comes from a long line of leaders. It’s in her blood.”

Megsie tilts her head to the side, eyes landing on me for the first time. “But if there’s a concrete, pertinent reason why you don’t want her to be promoted to Kormo, all you have to do is say the word.”

Not anymore.

I shake my head in response. “I’ll kick her ass if she acts up,” I warn, surprised at my honesty.

Megsie chuckles in response. “I’d expect nothing less from you.” She runs a hand through her blond bun, adjusting the big black clip. “We’re going to meet Chiara at the manor gates,” she reminds me quietly.

“I still don't think we should’ve given in to the vamps’ and sparklies’ move to have the service at the manor,” I protest. “You know they’ve got something going on.”

I wasted no time in filling Megsie in on what’s been going on: my temporary alliance, the Magicena King and Vampyr Queen in cahoots, the unrest in the Vampyr Nobility.

I was surprised Megsie didn’t boot my ass out the door because of my partnership with a vamp. She wasn’t happy, sure, but I think a small part of her appreciated my dedication to our faction. Or maybe the intel outweighed the transgression.

Anyway, Megsie also thinks that Lenore and Andre are planning something big. And now that they’ve successfully killed our Korma and a bunch of our other members, the Koramas don’t have the numbers we used to. One less thing in our favour. Couple that with the fact that we’re weaker and more vulnerable ninety-nine percent of the time and you’ve got a losing war with us as the booby prize.

“We have to make it look like we’re none the wiser. You know, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’” Megsie responds, drumming her black fingernails against her business skirt.

My Korma seems calm and collected on the outside, but her eyes are anxious. I guess I’m the same way. Waltzing into enemy territory is the last thing I want to do right now. They screwed us over before–what’s to stop them from doing it again? We had to practically drag the Cold Moon Pack out of hiding to do this. We all survived the battle–everyone but Paxton. And we’re all thinking the same thing…

It should have been me.

“Business as usual, huh?” I comment, taking a grateful sip of my coffee. The hot liquid splashing down my throat is pretty much the only thing that feels comforting right now.

Megsie nods once. “Exactly. We need to act as though we believed the Queen’s note.”

You heard that right. She sent us a hand-written note–like a few ‘sorry’s will make it all better–explaining that defiant Nightwalker vamps from out of town were responsible for the raid.

Does she think we were born yesterday? Every member of the Cold Moon Pack saw at least one Vampyr Prince involved in the fight. Besides, how is Lenore gonna explain away the fact that the vamps were invisible to the humans but the wolves weren’t? Sparklies were in on this, too–which means that Lenore knew all this was going to happen.

I swallow more coffee to drown out the rage building inside me. I want to crash through that manor and kill everyone inside it. The problem is, I’m fucking helpless as a human right now. Sure, I can snap some necks and do some damage, but it’s not like I’m at full power. Megsie and I are trying to figure out what to do about the pack’s restlessness. They all want blood–level-headed Niles and prissy Chiara most of all. We need to strategize. We can’t just rush in there, much as I want to knock some heads. Besides, the vamps’ll be expecting that.

We need to be smart about this.

Too bad I’m a Kormi now. If I was just a member of the pack, I’d feel better about wanting to go rogue and kick some Vampyr ass.

I roll my eyes but nod in quick agreement to Megsie’s words about the Queen and her bullshit note written on her weird, flowery-smelling stationary. I set my letter on fire–and thought of that bitch when I did it.

“It’s almost time.”

I almost jump out of my skin at Bodhi’s comment. He’s refilling my coffee cup without asking. He knows me all too well.

“All that coffee is going to–” Megsie begins, raising an index finger as if to stop me.

“It won’t.” I chug back the goodness even if it burns my face off. I don’t give a shit anymore.

“Verity is more caffeine than water.” Bodhi gives me a small smile as he passes us, but it never touches his eyes.

Megsie and I share a look, watching Bodhi slide behind the counter. He’s wearing a gray suit. We’re both thinking about him kicking ass during the raid. Of course he’d shift during the most dangerous battle most of us have ever witnessed in our lifetime. Thank God he came out swinging like a bad-ass.

I can’t even think about losing Bodhi, too. Briony was terrified of him being out in the fight. I never met up with her during the battle, but I could practically feel my friend’s uneasiness in my bones. She’s been fussing over him ever since–especially since his wounds took longer to heal. I guess that’s what happens when Koramas get older.

There aren’t a ton of patrons here today. Bodhi cancelled my shift at the tavern, but I still ended up doing some laundry for the linens and stuff upstairs. I needed to keep busy. I’d have scrubbed the floors if he let me, but since Jerald beat me to it, I was stuck just making beds. Briony is doing all the dishes.

The humans still pop in and out (I guess tourists didn’t get the memo about the bloodshed or they aren’t worried about it), but the Koramas haven’t really shown up. Everyone is mourning. The place is quiet– too quiet. It’s making me nervous, like we’re gonna get another raid. I don’t think I’ve relaxed in two weeks.

Bodhi is closing up The Azalea Tavern for the rest of the day to attend the funeral–because, by the way, the Queen is opening up her doors to the public, having a memorial service ‘for all the poor souls lost in the awful skirmish.’ Bitch .

She’ll be the first to go.

I smooth out my dress as Megsie and I approach Chiara. She’s leaning against one of the brick towers holding up the gate to the manor.

I hate wearing dresses. They just don’t feel like me . This one is tight, off the shoulder, and short. At least I can yank it off as soon as I get home.

We know we have to talk about the future of the Cold Moon Pack–and do it quietly and quickly. It’s not like we can afford to be late to this thing. It’d be way too suspicious and disrespectful to Paxton’s memory. And after what he did for me, I don’t want to dishonour him any more than I already have.

“Chiara.” Megsie stands close to Chiara, ready to get down to business.

I side-step next to my Korma, my eyes darting from person to person who passes us. So far, all humans and a dusting of Koramas. No vamps. And no sparklies in sight, either. Probably plotting behind the scenes like the cowards they are, just like last time.

Chiara looks uneasy, as well. She’s wearing a flowing ebony dress with her long black hair pinned up. Her mom must be close, which explains why Chiara is also studying everyone who walks by. Her mom lost her husband and her son. Unfortunately, that leaves her uniquely vulnerable–and Chiara knows that.

I sort of feel sorry for Chiara. Maybe.

Chiara makes eye contact with Megsie as soon as our Korma speaks.

“Verity and I have discussed the matter at length. Welcome to the Korama Nobility.”

This is what Chiara’s always wanted. Even though she’s grieving, I know she’s jumping up and down on the inside. This wasn’t exactly how she wanted to be promoted, but it’s brewing under the surface: relief, joy. Still, she nods, bowing her head a bit longer than usual.

“Thank you,” she practically whispers.

“Verity and I are your superiors, and as such, you will treat us with respect. I know you had misgivings about how the Nobility carried itself in the past.”

Megsie didn’t get too wordy there, but I know she’s referring to Chiara disrespecting me as Kormo. I appreciate her helping me out, but it still makes me feel a little shitty that my Korma is coming to my defense like this. Like I can’t handle myself.

That’s all over now. I’m gonna be the toughest Kormi ever. No one will fuck with me.

Chiara’s hazel eyes meet mine. I stare right back. Even though she’s much taller than me, I eye her evenly, begging her to challenge me again. She will lose each and every time. As if she can sense it from me, she fixes her stance and bows her head again after assuring us, “That will never happen again.”

“Good.” Megsie glances to the side as the first Vampyr passes us.

It’s no one too lethal–just Terry. I’m surprised someone as high on the food chain as Terry is just making the rounds, chatting with humans.

Aligning with Terry during the battle was a one-time thing. He’s not so bad (especially since he saved my ass), but I know in my gut that if he challenged me, he’d die.

As if he sensed that thought from me, Terry turns after shaking hands with an elderly human and makes eye contact with me. I’m not sure if he knows who I am. He must recognize us from the peace party, I guess, but most Vampyrs don’t care to notice details about other factions.

Chiara raises her hackles instantly when he approaches us, folding her arms and pivoting herself in front of Megsie. I step closer to Megsie but only by an inch. If he tries anything, Terry will be dead before he can take another step.

“G’day, ladies,” he greets us, his tone annoyingly sympathetic.

I really want to hate this guy, but he makes it hard when he offers his hand to shake Megsie’s. Megsie is way nicer than I am because she angles herself to the forefront and accepts the gesture.

“Good morning, Terry,” she responds.

Huh. She must remember him from the party. This proves my point: Megsie is kinder–just better –at this leader stuff. Even when it comes to vamps.

Chiara and I are stiff and silent when Terry nods at us. “Verity. Chiara,” he adds to his greeting.

I’m the Kormi now, so I guess I have to be a bit nicer or formal than I want to be. “Morning, Terry,” I finally default, crossing my arms. I’m uncomfortable and pissed off.

He smiles at the three of us, but it’s a sad one. I know he lost people, too. I guess it’s been hard for some of the vamps. But the thing is, all this shit never would have happened if it wasn’t for that Queen slut.

“My condolences to you all. Paxton seemed like a nice bloke.”

Terry glances at all of us in turn. I want to smash his face into the ground, but he looks sincere in what he’s saying. Megsie looks unnerved by his sympathy but gives him a small smile in return. Chiara does nothing. Not a surprise. She probably sees red everywhere she turns.

“Thank you.” Megse turns to look at Chiara and me. “We don’t want to be rude, but we need to meet up with the rest of our pack. It was nice to see you, Terry.”

He nods in understanding. “No worries. Horoo.” He begins to slide his phone out of the breast pocket of his suit. I frown as he steps away from us, wondering what he’s up to. It could be nothing, but I have this weird feeling in my gut as he begins to tap his screen.

Whatever. I have no time for that. I’m following Chiara and Megsie through the gates and into this God-forsaken estate. I’ve been here way too many times by now, and each time is freakier than the last. If I had my way, I’d torch this place and watch it burn to the ground. Savour every minute.

Paxton is just the latest in what the Vampyrs took from me. And now that they’re teamed up with the Magicena, there’s no stopping them.

It doesn’t take long for us to meet up with the rest of the Cold Moon Pack. Even though my place is with my Korma, I stay with Briony at the back. She’s quiet and doesn’t act herself, but she leans a bit closer to me as we wait for this thing to start.

The memorial service is taking place out on the terrace, with the weird dead orchards behind us acting as a creepy backdrop. Chairs are set up at the fringes of the terrace and on the dead grass. Guests are filing in around the sides of the manor, hoping to find somewhere to sit.

The amount of people here is making me uneasy. More innocent humans who could die. More Koramas to be slaughtered. More vamps and sparklies to kill us all. Fuck.

The clouds are heavy, hanging over us like they’re gonna drop some kind of Biblical plague. They’re making everything darker, full of shadows, and just plain eerie. Every nerve in my body is tense. The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up tall.

I’m terrified.

But I’m the Kormi.

I can’t back out now.

Because humans are here, we’re meant to blend in and look like we’re not Korama Nobility. Last night, Megsie and I decided to disperse the pack just in case; we don’t want to be sitting ducks in whatever potential game the vamps and sparklies are playing this time. We also want to protect the humans from an ambush.

We’re ‘between a rock and a hard place,’ to quote Megsie: we don’t want to disrespect Paxton and his grieving family, but we also don't want to put the Korama community into another hellfire. We’ve made sure that Astraia and Bodhi are protected (even if they got mad about being babied).

Niles steps close to Briony, glancing at both of us warily. “Anything?” he whispers so quietly that if it weren’t for my jacked Korama senses, I wouldn’t have heard him.

I shake my head ‘no.’ Briony barely turns her head to face him, the harsh breeze blowing her long red ponytail. “Nothing,” is all she responds.

We know all ears could be on us now, so Niles just nods his head and ducks into the crowd, sitting on one of the white fold-up chairs behind Chiara and Astraia.

“Do you want to–” I begin to Briony.

“I’m staying here,” she cuts me off, brushing at her black mini dress (a term she taught me months ago, before our lives were ruined all over again), even though nothing is there.

I really can’t blame her. I don’t think I’d be able to sit down, either. Taking a seat is like opening yourself up to get ‘chested (AKA, your heart ripped out),’ as Max likes to say.

“Looks like it’s starting,” I murmur as hordes of people suddenly take their seats. It must be later than I thought.

I’m guessing the terrace area is where the pastor or priest or whoever is going to speak. The chairs at the front are still empty.

A hush falls over the crowd. I find it weird, but then a sickly feeling comes over my bones, like I’ve just been dumped into a fucking ice bath.

I recognize that scent.

The Queen.

I don’t turn around, don’t give her the satisfaction, as Lenore Crané passes Briony and me, walking down the aisle by herself. She’s wearing a stupid-as-fuck black crown on her head. Figures.

Every Korama within spitting distance tenses on sight. We know she’s at fault for Paxton’s death. And we all want blood. Her blood. Except this isn’t the time or place for that.

My God.

She’s not alone.

Fuck my life.

Darren is a few paces behind her. I can smell him before I see him. He looks like a freaking zombie as he follows her, with some weird girl next to him.

Who the hell is that? I know she’s a vamp, but that’s about it.

My stomach does this weird sinking thing as she sidles up closer to him and he places his hand on the inner part of her elbow, leading her up to the terrace like she’s some kind of fainting, fragile dumbass princess. I have this sudden urge to grab her by her long black hair and smash her face into the ground.

Did the Queen turn a new unsuspecting human into one of them –or did this bitch come willingly from the vamp upper crust or God knows where else? Or is she Darren’s new booty call? Didn’t he tell me he was demisexual? Or was that just a lie?

Was everything he told me a lie?

Why do I care?

I don’t have time to kill them because the Vamp Queen is approaching the little podium at the front. She actually looks pretty wrecked. Usually, she’s got a poker face going on.

Briony and I share a knowing look as the Queen adjusts the microphone. If she’s grieving, tired, and emotional, she’ll be an easier target. Unfortunately, you could say the same thing about us.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming to my humble salon .”

Ha! Humble isn’t a word I’d ever use to describe her. The crown proves it. And I’m not really sure what a salon is. Isn’t that a haircutting place?

“After the calamities and atrocities that plagued our city, we would like to extend our hospitality and sympathies to all of you. We all lost loved ones during the ruckus. These tragedies bind us together. We are family.”

Do you typically slaughter your relatives, Queenie?

The Queen goes on and on with her stupid-ass spiel. It’s all a bunch of bullshit. I only pay more attention when she announces near the end:

“As my solemn vow to you all, I will work tirelessly with the authorities to bring those who murdered our loved ones to justice.”

Maybe she just sounds sad and teary to the humans–but to Briony, to me, to Megsie, it’s a declaration of war.

She believes the Koramas are guilty. She won’t see any other way through this other than to end us all–even if she was the one who started everything.

The Magicena King is seated behind her on the terrace with some of the other weirdos from his house. They nod in agreement like trained dogs. Assholes.

I guess I’m in deep shit because I killed one of the Vamp Princes–and if Darren has turned on the Koramas like it appears, he’ll rat me out. If he hasn’t done it now, he’ll do it later.

My days are numbered.

My grandpa was right.

If you like to live, never trust a vamp.

Briony is a mess after the service. She won’t talk about it, but I know she’s torn up over Paxton, how she’ll never have the chance to tell him how she really felt. I don’t leave her side until Niles approaches us and asks Briony if she wants to talk about anything. Surprisingly, she agrees, and they go off together.

I watch them closely from my place at the back, making sure they aren’t followed. So far, so good. I know Niles is dealing with his own shit but is thinking of others instead. He was Paxton’s best friend. I’m sure he has enough to handle without us weighing him down. That’s what I’d tell him during my sessions. But he’d always say, ‘it’s what I do.’

Bodhi and Astraia are huddled together, Bodhi holding her as she weeps uncontrollably into his collar. My stomach churns with nausea at how beat up she looks. I hate that she has another death to mourn. First her husband. Now her son. What the fuck is this world coming to?

I spy Chiara and Lylah walking up the aisle with roses in their hands. We don't have coffins here, but there are hand-made monuments with the names of the departed up at the front fringing the terrace. People are leaving flowers and other stuff there. There’s no way I’m going up there, but I’ll keep an eye on those who do.

The rest of the Cold Moon Pack is doing the same as me: keeping an eye on things. Max is across the way from me, arms folded and watching Astraia and Bodhi. Megsie and Jerald are at the front, chatting with the Magicena Nobility. I know they are there on purpose. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Nothing bad seems to be happening. I guess the Vamp Queen and Magicena King might not try anything with so many witnesses. Cops are even stationed at the corners of the event. It’s not like coppers stop vamps, but if the Queen is ‘working with them,’ I bet she won’t make herself look suspicious by offing us in front of them.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe nothing crazy will happen today.

“Verity.”

Fuck.

Spoke too soon.

I was so caught up in watching my pack and community that I didn't even sense his approach. Damnit!

You’ve got a ton of potential. You just need to focus more. Dig into your wolf senses.

Megsie and I know you can do this, Veri.

Paxton’s words from my very first meeting as a Kormo ring in my ears. My stomach heaves and my eyes burn. No time for tears, though.

I spin on my heel and eye Darren, who looks just the same as ever, even though we haven’t seen or spoken to each other in two weeks.

Well, wait a minute. Something is different. I just can’t put my finger on it. It’s in the way he’s standing, in the way he’s looking at me. Maybe it’s the grief. Whatever. I don’t care.

I feel the difference again when his hazel eyes look me up and down. Is he looking for my own grief, any sign of weakness?

Damn.

He is out to get me.

Tricky little bastard!

“You look beautiful,” he remarks.

WHAT?!

I must look as thrown as I feel because he raises a dark eyebrow. “What’s the matter?” he asks.

“The fuck is your deal?” I snap instead.

He frowns. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he seems to try and explain.

Duh. I’m aware of that. He called me, like, twenty times over the past fourteen days. I haven’t been on my phone much, and I haven’t wanted to talk to anyone outside of my race–including him. I kinda broke myself off from anything and everything Darren after the war. Plus, Megsie advised me to drop the alliance in case the Queen got to him.

Whatever. That’s semantics. It wasn’t like I needed a push to stop talking to him.

He’s a Vampyr.

I’m a Korama.

We’re different. Way too different.

I guess there was a time when I thought we could have overlooked all that stuff. But not anymore.

There’s no point in denying how I feel for him–no amount of repression will fix it, make it go away–but the cold hard truth is that we can’t be in each other’s lives. Besides, it’s not like he feels for me in the same way I felt– feel , fuck–for him.

I’m annoyed as fuck, but I know we can’t just stand around here–not with prying eyes everywhere and jacked-up hearing. Plus, it doesn’t look like Darren’s taking any of my crap today. Usually, he’s a big pushover, but today, he’s insistent. Even his hazel eyes are looking at me determinedly, like he’s trying to get his point across by any means necessary.

And damnit if I’m not a little turned on by that, and shame on me for enjoying staring him down because it means I can take in his black suit with that weird crimson tie I could’ve sworn I recognize from somewhere.

I cross my arms over my chest, acting like the bitch he knows I am. “Not here,” I finally growl.

Darren’s eyes flicker with understanding. “Alright,” he breathes, rubbing his styled hair. He looks tired. I flash back to Zander’s murder. A lump lodges in my throat, making it hard to swallow.

Zander might have been a smelly vamp, but he didn’t deserve to die. I'm so glad I sliced through that fuckface who killed him.

Darren gestures beyond the terrace. Despite my better judgement (which was never that great, let’s be real), I follow him. I guess we’re going around the side of the property to a more secluded place. No one is watching us. They’re all too busy grieving or mingling. Someone put out refreshments while I wasn’t looking.

“We won’t have very long,” Darren informs me as we angle past a few sobbing humans. My chest tightens in response to their pain. They have no clue what happened to their loved ones that night, and they never will.

I stare up at him expectantly until he sighs in response.

“The Queen hired a bodyguard to protect me,” he explains, sounding a little embarrassed.

I scoff a little too loudly at his confession. Darren raises an eyebrow in response.

“A bodyguard? For real?” I snort but then realize that I’m being too, well, Verity right now. “Then how can we talk at all?” I ask, sobering up a bit.

Darren points discreetly. I turn in the same direction, eyeing that raven-haired vamp from before. She’s twirling her hair in her little fingers as she chats up this big-ass vamp wearing sunglasses and some kind of earpiece.

“I thought she was with you.” I scoff again, unable to get the fiery jealousy out of my voice as we make our way around the mansion and out of sight of the two of them.

“Hardly,” Darren responds, shoving his hands into his dress pants pockets. “The Queen turned her recently. She’s my new… Sister.”

The way he says it tells me he doesn’t think of her as his ‘new sister.’ That proves one of my theories from before–that the Queen is already replacing her two-times-dead children. That’s so wrong.

What’s more, Darren’s explanation tells me he’s definitely not in league with Lenore. I guess I should’ve known better. Maybe he has no choice but to act like he cares. Maybe I always knew I could trust him and was just making excuses. That sounds like me.

“You couldn’t have thought anything was going on between her and me,” Darren defends, jumping up the steps to the manor and opening one of the double doors.

Where the hell are we going? Aren’t there surveillance cameras? Vamps around?

But when we head indoors, the place is like a ghost town. I sense and hear nothing. Huh. Maybe Darren got something right, for once. Maybe we really are alone.

Damn. Now that I’m done being snarky, I’m kind of nervous about that.

Too late to turn back because Darren is now facing me, too close for me to resist. It’s not like he’s touching me or anything–he’s too much of a gentleman, even for a vamp–but it’s like he’s some weird magnet or something because I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.

What was it I was thinking about us being too different? Too–too something ? I can’t remember.

Shit!

Where the hell is my brain, my logic, my loyalty to my pack and my race? All I can think about is how close he is to me, how much I’ve missed him, how dumb I’ve been to think I can just ignore my feelings when they’re staring me right in the face.

“Verity?”

Maybe he said my name a few times before I heard him, because he looks worried or confused.

I fold my arms again, trying to act tough and not like a teen with a big-ass crush on the nice guy. I’m in so deep, I can’t even see fucking daylight.

“I was never jealous,” I snap, even though I can clearly recall wanting to break her face just an hour ago.

In stark contrast to my anger and defiance, Darren smiles down at me, annoying me even more. “Verity,” he repeats softly. “No one else has been on my mind but you.”

The way he says my name sends a throb between my legs that pisses me off even more. Could it be that he–

No way. It can’t be. I’m never that lucky. But how else to explain his voice, the way he’s looking at me?

I think about the steamy dream I had about him. Heat prickles my neck. I can’t force it down. It travels to my cheeks, making me want to throw myself into the crackling fireplace to my right.

“Fine!” I exclaim venomously. “I was fucking jealous! I wanted to crush her face into the pavement! Are you happy now?”

Darren’s face doesn’t change at all. “A little,” he grins, forcing a growl from me.

“Wipe that smile off your face before I punch it off,” I threaten.

Darren laughs, glancing up at the high ceiling before folding his arms casually. “I’ve missed your darling utterings of violence, Sweetness and Light,” he hums tenderly.

My panties are immediately soaked. I narrow my eyes up at him and smack his chest quickly. “Shut up,” I warn him.

As if by magic, something changes in the air between us–or maybe it was already there and we just had to let it in to see it.

I can now remember the differences between us, the obstacles we’d face if we give in to this moment.

It’d be hell on wheels. The dumbest mistake I’ve ever made. It’s like shooting myself in the foot. My entire pack and the Korama community would rip me a new one for this. With a war about to start, I can’t afford to have a big-ass vulnerability like this.

It’s suicide.

It won’t end well.

It could mean our deaths.

I reach up on my toes–even in my spikes–and crash my mouth into his. Darren rocks back on his heels in surprise.

In the next breath, his hand is snaking through my hair, causing my air supply to get cut off somewhere in my chest.

My heart is thumping unevenly in my ears, making me dizzy, as Darren’s free arm wraps around my waist, bringing me closer. Closer to my undoing, maybe. But I can’t fucking help it.

He’s a Vampyr.

I’m a Korama.

And I love him.