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Holy fuck, Parker looks sexy as hell when she’s flushed like that—chest rising and falling in quick bursts, pink lip caught between her teeth like she’s trying to hold something in.

I don’t know what exactly I walked in on, but I have a damn good guess. Something tightens in my chest, winding like a coil, burning in my veins like wildfire catching kindling, turning everything to ash.

Am I… jealous?

The thought alone feels ridiculous, but here I am, standing in her doorway, watching her look all breathless and undone over another fucking monster . I know it wasn’t the shadowy fucker who stalks her from the dark. I heard the voice. And I know that voice. I heard it in a dream that didn’t feel like a dream. His presence is different. Like fire instead of ice. Like temptation instead of terror.

And now I know he’s real. Not a figment of the imagination. No, he’s as real as that shadowy fuck. Two monsters who shouldn’t fucking exist but do.

Still… she looks okay. Better than okay. She looks alive.

And that hits me harder than it should.

Because when I first met her, Parker was locked up tight, like her ribs were made of iron and her heart sealed behind caution tape. Always watching the exits. Always running from any sort of human interaction. But now, she’s standing there, breathless and undone, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted.

And not from fear.

Something happened. Something that clearly wasn’t me. And it should scare me. It should make me feel small and unworthy and human. Totally out of my depth. But all I can think is…

I want to be the one to make her look like that.

Not just because I’m attracted to her, even though I am. Obsessively so. But because she deserves more than monsters who treat her like a plaything. She deserves someone who doesn’t run. Someone who sticks around even when shit gets weird.

Then again, when it comes to Parker, everything is weird. I don’t even think that word begins to cover it.

And I’m a fucking goner for it.

Parker wouldn’t know what to do with normal anyway.

I clear my throat and hold up the sandwich I made for her, feeling like an idiot. There’s a bite taken out of it. Not by me, but the sulfur-scented demon asshole, who of course, had to help himself to Parker’s food. Again.

At this point, I’m not sure what pisses me off more—that another monster is lurking in the house, or that he stole the sandwich I made for her.

A gift. A small, silly little human gesture. And he took it like it didn’t matter.

I shake my head, trying to get rid of the frustration curling low in my gut. Because none of this makes sense. I don’t belong in this world Parker’s been forced to survive in—but damn if I’m not clinging to any foothold I can find.

She finally looks up, eyes meeting mine. Pale blue, swirling with something unreadable.

“You made me a sandwich?” she asks.

There’s a beat of silence between us. I expected sass. A smirk. Not… that softness in her voice. That flicker of something vulnerable.

“Uh, yeah,” I say, voice gruffer than I mean for it to be. “Thought you might be hungry. And since we’re not working again until tomorrow night, I figured maybe we could hang out. Watch a movie or something. It’s been a couple of… busy days.”

Understatement of the goddamn year.

I wince internally, already bracing for her to shut me down or change the subject even though we shared a few playful moments not long ago. I’m not smooth around her—not anymore. I try to be, I used to be. I was the guy who could talk his way into or out of anything. But Parker short-circuits all of that.

Because I’m not trying to impress her. I just want to be near her. I want to see her laugh. I want to hear her talk about something stupid and mundane and not see her cloaked in fear. I want to be someone she can lean on. I want to see her flush with heat when I do something ridiculously flirty, and I want her to do it back to me.

Even if I’m a blip on the radar of her life. Even if she never looks at me the way I look at her. Even if I have to keep pretending I didn’t dream about her—about her body wrapped in shadow and pleasure, about the way she moaned my name like it meant something.

My jaw clenches, my body flashing hot at the memory of that dream. Fuck. That sexy fantasy is going to haunt me forever.

I step further into the room, taking in Parker’s space. Somehow, I feel like I’m learning more about her simply by standing here.

She watches me silently, those pale blue eyes tracking my every move. Not wary, but... curious. Like she’s not sure what I’ll touch next.

A small bookshelf in the corner catches my eye. I run my fingers over the spines, most of which seem very well-read, until one jumps out at me.

Forgotten Guilds and the Things They Hunted.

I pull it free, flipping through a few worn pages. Faded illustrations of horned creatures and clawed silhouettes leap off the yellowed paper. I close it quickly.

I clear my throat. “I took the liberty of ordering groceries before they closed for the night,” I say, setting the book back in its place. “They’ll deliver in the morning. Your cupboards were practically empty.”

She crosses her arms, arching an eyebrow. “What, my food choices weren’t fancy enough for you, Mr. Carter?”

That sharp snark is back in full force—her defense mechanism of choice. But there’s no bite behind it.

I glance over my shoulder and smirk. “There’s nothing fancy about eating real food , Parker. You know, like fruits and vegetables? Vitamins and nutrients. Things that keep humans alive. A person can’t survive on bread and tea alone.”

I move over to her dresser, picking up a small picture frame. A young girl, maybe ten years old, stares back at me, her dark hair streaked with white, standing beside a man with matching dark hair and familiar features.

Her father?

“Is this you?” I ask, still studying the picture. The girl has those same light blue eyes, but her skin is rosier, her nose dusted in freckles.

She wasn’t always this pale, this haunted.

I reach up absently, fingers brushing the strands of white in my own hair.

A reminder that I’m connected to her now. Branded. Marked. Whether I fully understand it or not.

Exhaustion creeps in like a tide, slow and unstoppable. My eyes flick to the corners of the room, where the shadows tend to pool. But there’s nothing there. No flicker of movement. No monsters. Just me. And Parker. And the weight of everything we still don’t understand.

Then the air shifts—warmer. Brighter. And citrus curls around me, soft and sweet.

Parker.

Her hand slides over mine. She gently takes the picture frame from my grip, her fingers brushing against my knuckles.

“I know I keep asking this,” she says, voice low. “But… are you okay?”

I glance down—and finally realize I’ve been crushing the sandwich in my hand. Peanut butter and jelly ooze out the sides, the bread torn and crumpled. It looks like I tried to choke it to death.

Before I can say a word, Parker leans forward and lifts my hand to her mouth.

And licks the jam off my fingers.

Holy fuck.

Her tongue is warm, slow, and deliberate. She doesn’t break eye contact as she runs it over my knuckles, tasting me like I’m her favorite dessert. Her lips part slightly, and she hums—actually hums—like she's enjoying it.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, licking the last bit from her lip. “There’s really nothing wrong with living off jelly sandwiches, you know.”

And then she tosses me a smug little smirk, spins on her heel, and walks out of the room.

Leaving me standing there.

With a destroyed sandwich.

And a raging fucking hard-on.

I take a deep breath, scrub a hand down my face, and follow her into the kitchen, throwing away the sad remains of my sandwich before washing the residual stickiness off my hands.

“Want some tea?” Parker asks, already filling the kettle.

I watch as she gathers her long, silvery hair into a messy bun, exposing the delicate curve of her neck.

And I lean toward her.

Fucking hell.

I thought seeing her with her hair down was hot, but this?

This is a goddamn test of willpower.

The slope of her neck. The way her shoulder tenses slightly as she moves. The glow of the light catching in her pale hair. It takes everything I have not to crowd her space and taste every inch of her skin.

“Hudson?”

I blink. She’s staring at me, lips parted in a cute little amused curve.

Fuck. She caught me staring like a creep.

“Did you want some tea?” she repeats, tilting her head just slightly. Damn, she’s perceptive.

I swallow the lump in my throat and flash her a smirk, masking the chaos inside. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll take it the same way you do.”

She hums, lips twitching. “You mean hard and fast, with a little hair pulling? Damn. I didn’t peg you for the kinky type, golden boy.”

I choke so violently I swear I nearly inhale my own soul.

Did she just ? —

She pats my back like I’m a delicate fucking flower on the verge of death. “Aww, there, there. I enjoy a little choking too, but no need to die on me, Hudson.”

The laugh that slips from her is low, rich—and it crawls down my spine like a spark. Goosebumps lift along my arms, and a brand-new goal settles in my gut:

Make Parker laugh like that as often as humanly possible.

When I can finally breathe again, I shoot her a ridiculous grin. “Jesus. You can’t just say shit like that, Silver. I honestly might not survive.”

Her smile deepens, and for the first time, it reaches her eyes. Seems like I may have found a new nickname she likes. And it hits me like a punch to the chest because she’s glowing .

Not from fear. Not from adrenaline. But from actual joy.

Parker hands me a steaming mug, the scent of peppermint curling into the air.

“Peppermint tea with honey. Helps with digestion, nerves, and headaches,” she says casually, leaning against the counter. “Among other things.”

I take a sip, surprised by the smooth sweetness. It’s… surprisingly good.

“Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever had tea like this before. Definitely beats the shit I made earlier.”

Her lips twitch. “See? You don’t need fancy food to enjoy some simple pleasures. I’ll win you over to the dark side. Little by little.”

And somehow, that statement feels like it carries farmore weight than simply tea.

We stare at each other, the space between us charged with something neither of us names.

My fingers tighten around my mug. I take a step closer, my pulse hammering in my ears.

To do what , exactly?

Comfort her? Kiss her? Tell her I’ll protect her, cherish her, save her?

I could do all of that, say all of that—but we both know the truth.

I am completely and utterly out of my depth. A liability. A human in a world of things that should not exist.

And still…

My stupid, weak, normal human heart cannot and will not walk away.

I open my mouth, about to say something, anything, but she chooses that moment to lick the spoon still coated in honey in a really slow, really deliberate way that mimics the way I teased her earlier with the peanut butter. Touché, Silver.

“Was that the last of the peanut butter then?” she asks, taking me off guard, and I straighten back up.

“Uh, yeah. But I ordered more. Because you, apparently, have a new sandwich-loving monster roommate.”

She raises her eyebrows at that, and I wait to see if she’ll tell me more about this other entity stalking us, but she doesn’t. Instead she grabs her mug and heads over to the couch, plopping down and turning on the TV to some renovation show.

I’m sure she’ll just ignore me and dismiss anything that just happened between us until?—

“What movie should we watch?”

* * *

Two movies and several cups of tea later, my sides actually hurt from laughing.

I didn’t even think Parker could laugh like that—loud, unfiltered, with her head thrown back and eyes watering from whatever dumb scene just played out on screen. But she did. And now she’s curled on the couch beside me, blanket tangled around her legs, a mug of tea cradled in both hands, cheeks pink from laughter.

God, she’s fucking radiant when she lets herself feel something good.

We’re still giggling over some ridiculous line when a knock rattles the front door. Parker jumps, and her tea sloshes over the rim of her mug, splattering onto the floor.

“Shit,” she mutters, already setting the mug down and reaching for a towel.

“I’ve got the door,” I say, rising to my feet. “Probably the groceries.”

I leave her in the living room and head toward the front door, weaving through the maze of locks she’s installed. There’s a metallic clack as I undo the final bolt, and when I finally pull it open, the outside greets me with a fresh breeze, the sun still low in the sky, casting deep shadows on the porch.

It feels unfairly normal. Warm, blue skies, birds chirping. It’s as if nothing insane has ever happened. The kind of day that shouldn’t exist when monsters do.

Several paper bags are sitting at the bottom of the steps, and the delivery person is already gone, the street quiet and devoid of cars.

“Need help?” Parker calls out from inside the house, but I’m already crossing the porch to grab them.

“Nah, I’m goo?—”

My foot crashes through one of the planks. One second I’m upright, and the next, my leg is swallowed by splintered wood, sinking to the knee.

“Fuck—” I hiss, but I don’t even get a chance to curse properly before the shadows surge.

Black tendrils slither up from the hole beneath me, spilling across the porch like smoke. They twist around my calf, then lash up and coil around my throat. My lungs seize as energy tears out of me like it’s being siphoned directly from my veins. My vision doubles. The air warps. My legs give.

Everything blurs. My limbs go leaden.

No. Not again.

Not like at the ranch.

I try to shout—to tell Parker to run, to go —but my mouth won’t work. No sound escapes.

Shadows pour into my throat, spilling into my lungs like water. My chest is on fire. My heart slams once. Twice. Then it slows.

“Hudson?” Parker’s voice filters in from somewhere behind me.

She sounds close.

Too close.

But it feels like I’m sinking away from her at the same time. Like she’s receding… or I am.

I’m being pulled under.

And I can’t stop it

Everything goes black, and in the final flicker of thought, I don’t think about monsters.

I think about Parker’s laugh.

The way her smile looked just minutes ago.

And how I never got to make good on the promise I made to myself to see that as often as possible.