Morning light bleeds through the curtains. I sit on the edge of the bed fully dressed, my bag already packed at my feet. I move quietly, reaching for my jacket draped over the chair.
"Where are you going?"
I freeze. Dorian stands in the doorway, arms crossed. He's fully dressed. He's been awake this whole time.
"I need to go," I say. "I have things to handle."
"What things?"
My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. "Just things."
"Nora."
I grab my bag. "I can't stay here."
He doesn't move from the doorway. Just stands there blocking the only exit. "Can't or won't?"
"Does it matter?"
"Where exactly do you think you're going?" His voice is flat.
I don't have an answer that isn't a lie. I try to push past him. He doesn't budge. His hand catches my wrist.
"Let me go."
"We need to talk about last night."
I pull my wrist free. "There's nothing to talk about. I lost control. I nearly killed someone. Now I need space to figure things out."
"Space won't fix this." He steps fully into the room and closes the door behind him. The click sounds final. "Running won't fix this. You're going to live forever and you don't get to spend eternity hiding from what you are."
My temper flares. "You don't get to lecture me about control when you're the one who turned me into this thing."
He moves closer. Deliberate. Predatory. "Do you really believe that? That I forced this on you?"
"Didn't you?"
"No. But if blaming me makes it easier, go ahead. Tell yourself you're a victim."
I shove him. Hard. He doesn't move.
"I didn't ask for this."
"You begged for it." His voice drops.
I shove him again. Harder this time. He catches both my wrists. His grip is steel. He backs me up step by step until my spine hits the wall. His face is inches from mine.
"You said yes knowing exactly what it meant. And now you want to pretend you didn't choose this."
"I didn't choose to lose control." My voice cracks. "I would’ve killed him if you didn’t stop me."
"I'll stop you every time until you learn to stop yourself." His eyes are black now. Fully dilated. "But I won't let you run from me."
I try to twist out of his grip. He holds firm.
"Let me go."
"Where will you go, Nora? Back to your apartment? You'll burn in the sun before you reach the front door."
The air between us shifts. Charges like a storm about to break. I stop struggling against his grip. My pulse, unnecessary now but still present, hammers in my ears. I stare at his mouth. At the perfect line of his lips.
Something in me snaps.
I surge forward and bite his lower lip hard enough to break skin. Blood wells between us. Copper-bright and intoxicating. Dorian makes a sound low in his throat. Half surprise. Half something darker.
His hands release my wrists. Slide to my waist. Pull me closer.
I bite harder. Taste more blood. The kiss turns savage. We're fighting and claiming each other at the same time. All teeth and hunger and the desperate need to prove something neither of us can name.
"Is this what you want?" he asks against my mouth.
"Yes."
"Say it again."
"Yes, damn you."
I shove him backward toward the bed. He goes willingly. I follow him down, straddling his hips.
I'm on top now. In control.
The look in his eyes is pure satisfaction.
"There you are," he says softly.
"Shut up."
"Make me."
I do. I kiss him again. His hands slide under my shirt. Find skin. I arch into the touch. Dorian’s palms are cold, but they ignite something hot and reckless deep inside me. His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me closer until our bodies are pressed together so tightly I can feel the thrum of his immortal pulse against mine.
"Let go," he whispers against my lips.
His lips crash into mine with a hunger that’s centuries old, and I moan into his mouth, my fangs grazing his tongue. The taste of him—copper, ash, and something darkly sweet—fills my senses, and I’m lost. He lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding against him shamelessly.
The bed hits the backs of my thighs as he lays me down. His lips trail down my neck, and I arch into him, craving more. He doesn’t tease—he sinks his fangs into the curve of my shoulder, and I cry out, the pain and pleasure blending into something electric. Blood wells up, and he laps at it like a man starved.
"Fuck, Nora—"
He pulls back, his eyes black as night, and I see the hunger in them—the same hunger that’s mirrored in my own. I reach for him, dragging him down to me, and our bodies align perfectly. He slides into me with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes my head spin. I claw at his back, my nails leaving angry red marks that he doesn’t seem to feel. His pace is relentless, each stroke hitting that spot inside me that makes my toes curl and my breath come in short, ragged gasps.
I’m close, so close, when he suddenly pulls out, flipping me onto my stomach with a rough hand.
"Dorian, what the—"
He doesn’t answer. Kneels behind me, his hands gripping my hips as he thrusts into me again, deeper this time. The sensation is overwhelming, and I bury my face in the pillows to muffle my cries.
His pace quickens, his body slamming into mine with a force that’s almost brutal, and I’m spiraling out of control.
When I come, it’s with a scream that echoes off the walls, my body trembling uncontrollably. He doesn’t stop—he drives into me harder, chasing his own release. I feel him shudder behind me, his breath hot against my back, and then he’s spilling inside me, his arms wrapping around my waist as he collapses onto the bed.
We stay like that for a moment. But it’s not long before his hands are exploring me again, his touch reigniting the fire that’s still smoldering inside me. He flips me onto my back, and I’m on top again. His hands grip my thighs as I sink down onto him, and we move together in a rhythm that’s both savage and tender.
This time, when we reach the edge, we fall together, our cries blending into one as the room fills with the sound of our ecstasy.
And still, it’s not enough.