Chapter 13

I grabbed a trash bag from the storage closet and began the tedious process of collecting the larger pieces of broken glass, my movements mechanical as my mind wandered. I could still catch his scent in the air, that intoxicating sweetness that made my fangs ache with want. He'd been terrified when he ran, his heart pounding so hard I could hear it even now in my memory, his blood racing through his veins in a way that made every predatory instinct I possessed scream at me to chase him down and drink my fill.

But I hadn't. I'd let him go. I'd stood there and watched him disappear into the forest, resisting the overwhelming urge to pursue, because something about him made me want to be better than my nature. It was a strange feeling, one I wasn't entirely comfortable with. I'd spent the last hundred years avoiding humans precisely because I didn't want to deal with the complications they brought, the messy emotions and moral dilemmas that came with being close to potential prey. And yet here I was, cleaning up broken glass at four in the morning because a beautiful man with addictive blood had accidentally discovered my secret and fled in terror.

I finished bagging the trash and carried it out through the newly opened front door, making my way through the forest toward the edge where it met human civilization. There were no garbage bins at the manor itself, no convenient municipal services that reached this far into the bayou. Living in such isolation meant I had to venture out to the public waste disposal areas when I needed to get rid of anything. I walked through the darkness with the trash bag in hand, my feet finding the familiar path that led from the deep woods to the outskirts where humans had placed their bins for collection.

The contrast was always jarring—one moment surrounded by ancient trees and mist, the next standing beside ordinary metal garbage containers under flickering streetlights. I dumped the bag into one of the bins, the shattered glass clinking against the other refuse inside, then turned to make my way back toward the forest and my secluded manor.

That's when I saw him. Lysander, standing at the edge of the party crowd I could hear in the distance, his white hair unmistakable even in the darkness. He looked exhausted and shaken, his shoulders hunched and his movements hesitant as he separated himself from the group and headed toward the road. I watched as he pulled out his phone and called for a ride, his fingers trembling slightly as he typed in the address. There was something deeply vulnerable about him in that moment, something that made my chest tighten with an emotion I couldn't quite name.

I should have gone back to the manor. I should have left him alone, let him process what he'd seen and hopefully convince himself it had all been some kind of elaborate nightmare. But I couldn't. The thought of him being out here alone, vulnerable and frightened in the darkness, made something protective and possessive flare up inside me. What if another vampire found him? What if someone else caught that intoxicating scent and decided to make him their meal? He couldn't even defend himself against Jinx, my harmless little cat. How would he possibly survive an encounter with a real predator?

So I followed him. I kept to the shadows, moving with the supernatural speed that made trailing a human child's play, watching as his rideshare arrived and he climbed into the backseat. The driver was a middle-aged woman who barely glanced at him, her attention focused on her GPS and the late-night podcast playing through her speakers.

I moved through the darkness behind the car, leaping from rooftop to rooftop when the streets were too exposed, darting through alleyways and cutting across parking lots to keep pace. My feet barely touched the ground as I tracked the vehicle through the empty streets of New Orleans, always staying just out of sight but never losing them. It was almost meditative, this chase, the cool night air rushing past me as I followed my prey through the sleeping city.

His apartment building was exactly what I'd expected: old, slightly run-down, the kind of place where young people with more ambition than money ended up while they tried to make something of themselves. I watched from the shadows of the parking lot as he climbed the stairs to his floor, saw the brief interaction with his elderly neighbor who apparently had nothing better to do at four in the morning than gossip about strange women in the parking lot. The fear that crossed his face when she mentioned me was almost palpable, and I felt a twinge of something that might have been guilt as he hurried into his apartment and locked the door behind him.

I stood there for a long moment, debating whether to approach, to try to explain, to somehow salvage this disaster of a first meeting. But the exhaustion I'd been fighting off all night was finally catching up with me, the sun would be rising soon, and I had no umbrella to shield myself from its rays. With a last lingering look at his darkened window, I turned and made my way back to the manor, my mind already planning how I would handle our next encounter.

By the time I reached home, the eastern sky was starting to lighten with the first hints of dawn. I stumbled up to my bedroom, barely bothering to remove my clothes before collapsing onto the bed. Sleep claimed me almost instantly, dragging me down into the deep, dreamless rest that came with the sunrise. I slept through the entire day, my body recovering from the night's excitement and the unusual exertion of restraining my bloodlust for so many hours.

It was nearly five-thirty in the evening when my phone started ringing, the shrill tone dragging me up from the depths of unconsciousness. I groaned and rolled over, reaching blindly for the device on my nightstand, my eyes still closed against the lingering drowsiness. The screen showed Morgana's name and face, her perfect features arranged in what I knew would be a smug expression even before I answered the video call.