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I almost say that I just wanted to make sure she’s alright, but that would be an even stupider reply. I know why I’m here. But I can’t just come out and say it.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I say instead.
“Well, you did a helluva good job of it,” she frowns, coming down.
She is wearing an oversized t-shirt, which is falling to the middle of her thighs. As she’s descending the stairs, it flies around her legs. Her breasts have perked up underneath the thin fabric, her nipples pebbling, almost piercing through the t-shirt. I get hard instantly. I stifle a groan that dies in my throat.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she tells me.
“No shit.” The words escape me before I can think about whether or not I should say them.
Our gazes lock. I can see that she’s stifling a chuckle.
“You didn’t come to kill me, did you?” she suddenly asks, sounding more serious than ever.
“Kill you?” I frown. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“You’re the vampire king,” she points out.
“Ah,” I nod several times. “Your friend told you about me.”
“Mhm.”
“Have you told the others?” I ask, but I already know the answer. I probably have minutes, maybe not even several of them, before the shifters barge in here and take me. It was a risk I was willing to take. Maybe I would be able to fight off a few of them, and run back to the woods, then I can–
“No.”
Her reply stuns me into silence, into oblivion. I have to admit I wasn’t expecting that. I remain silent for a few moments, gathering my thoughts, trying to make sense of this unexpected situation.
“Why?” That is all I manage to muster.
My mind warns me that she might be lying. I inhale deeply, her scent floating in through both my nostrils, filling me. There is no fear. Usually, when someone is lying, they’re sweating. That sweat is different than, for example, sweating after a run on a hot, sunny day. Very different. The scent of fear is ingrained in that sweat when one is lying. It’s unmistakable.
She isn’t afraid. She might just be good at lying.
I frown as I look at her. No one is that good.
She takes a few moments before replying.
“I felt like I owed it to you,” she says simply.
“Owed it to me?” I echo.
“You saved me,” she continued. “I saved you now. We’re even.”
“How did you save me?” I ask, amused.
“I was gonna go out into the woods tonight and look for you,” she reveals. “I wanted to tell you that Rose knows about you. I managed to convince her to keep quiet about you for two days. That’s all I can do.”
As a human living with the shifters, her fate must be very strange. Very strange indeed. There is obvious loyalty here, but she isn’t bound blindly by it. That is even more curious. She is led by some inner sense of morality, of right and wrong.
“You wanted to look for me, huh?” I ask, suddenly feeling that same desire that brought me here in the first place.
Something tells me all of this is true. I don’t know why, but I trust her. I probably shouldn’t. Then again, she shouldn’t trust me, either. We’re on two opposite sides. We can’t be allies. Yet, this is what we are, standing here, in her home, in the middle of the night.
“Yes,” she confirms. “Just to tell you all this, nothing else.”
“Are you sure?”
