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"Understood," his voice was low, like the rumble of thunder promising a storm on the horizon.
I crossed my arms over my chest. This was it—the point of no return. Celeste Holloway, walking willingly into the den of a vampire with a heart full of vengeance and a head full of lust.
Nash's reaction was like watching a storm clear out in seconds, his face lighting up with a mix of relief and something softer, something that made my defenses quake. He stepped forward, closing the gap between us as if he couldn't bear another second of distance, and yanked me into his arms with a force that spoke volumes of his pent-up tension.
"Fuck," I muttered against the ironclad embrace that felt like it could shield me from the world outside. "You better mean every word, Nash. Because I swear, if you're playing me?—"
"Never," he cut me off, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll protect you with every damned breath, cherish you even in darkness. This journey we're on—it's fucked up, twisted, and dangerous, but I want it. With you."
His words, laced with adoration, did strange things to my insides. They churned and twisted, weaving a complicated tapestry of fear, excitement, and a dark thrill that I'd only ever let myself imagine in the safety of my blog.
"Cherish?" I scoffed, pulling back just enough to peer up at him through the curtain of my dark hair. "You do realize we're not in some sappy romance movie, right? This is real life— and unapologetically screwed up."
"Real life is exactly why I need you," he replied, sincerity oozing from every syllable as his brown eyes bore into mine, leaving no room for doubt. "Only you," he murmured, and then his lips were on mine, branding me with a kiss that was all claiming and no apology. It was a taste of what our future held—a mingling of passion, darkness, and an undeniable connection that scared the shit out of me.
"Promise me," I gasped as we broke apart, our breaths mingling in the chilly night air. "Promise me you're not full of shit."
"I promise, Celeste," there was a steel edge to his voice that told me he meant every fucking word. "On my life, on my brother's memory, on everything I am."
"Good." I pressed my forehead to his, allowing myself this one moment of weakness amidst the chaos we were about to unleash. "Because, vampire or not, you betray me, and I'll make damn sure your immortal ass wishes it could die."
Chapter 34
Celeste
The towering gates of Nash's Italian fortress loomed over us, a stark reminder of the luxurious prison I'd once tried to flee. We slinked into the mansion, its opulence grating against my bruised psyche like sandpaper on raw skin. I trailed behind Nash, my eyes absorbing the grandeur with a mix of resentment and awe.
"Welcome back, Celeste," he said, voice dripping with a satisfaction that made my insides twist. He led me to the kitchen and set about making coffee. The rich aroma wafted through the air, a sensory assault that was almost comforting in its familiarity.
"Really? Coffee?" I grumbled, eyeing him like he was brewing poison. "I'm surprised you don't drink... I don't know, blood lattes or something."
"Ah, Celeste, always the joker," he replied without missing a beat, his back to me as he worked the espresso machine with an elegance that pissed me off. "Coffee is one of the few human indulgences I still enjoy."
"Right. Because being undead doesn't mean you can't appreciate a good caffeine kick." I leaned against the cold marble counter, arms folded across my chest. "So, come on then, tell me more about this vampire gig. You've got superpowers or some shit?"
Nash turned, leaning against the counter opposite of me, a small smile playing on his lips. "Curiosity is a dangerous thing, Celeste. It's what got you trapped here with me, remember?"
"Less philosophy, more fang facts, please," I shot back, unable to mask the genuine intrigue beneath my sarcasm. "Indulge me."
He studied me for a moment, like he was weighing the pros and cons of sharing his dark secrets.
"Being a vampire isn't all it's cracked up to be," Nash said slowly. "We're not these glittering assholes immune to death, despite what your human fiction would have you believe."
He paused, taking a sip of his coffee, the dark liquid seeming to energize him. I noticed his fangs were retracted now, giving him an almost normal appearance.
"We can go out in the sun, though it does drain our powers. We have reflections. Garlic and holy water don't do shit. When we feed, it's not this delicate little nibble on the neck. It's violent. Bloody. Primal."
His eyes flashed as he spoke, and I felt a shiver run down my spine that was both fear and desire.
"As for superpowers," he continued, "heightened senses and strength, yes. But we can still be killed by decapitation or wooden stakes through the heart. Silver and fire are weaknesses too."
He tilted his head, staring at me intently. "Make no mistake, Celeste, I am still a predator. But I choose my prey selectively, only targeting those who have earned my wrath."
I swallowed hard, pulse quickening. "Is that meant to scare me or turn me on?"
Nash grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes. In a flash he was behind me, mouth at my neck, breath hot against my skin.
"Maybe both," he purred, trailing a fingertip down my arm.
