Chapter 4 Mine!

I hear her voice before I see her.

Soft and careless in the way mortals can be when they think they're alone. She's calling someone Timmy. There's laughter in it, a kind of light. My jaw tightens.

I slip through the back hallway like shadow, silent, invisible to the buzzing chaos of the humans walking around. One scent hits me. Her.

She’s in the dressing room. Door cracked just enough. I step in without a sound. My presence registers in the mirror first, her reflection freezes, eyes catching mine. A sharp gasp.

“What the hell are you doing back here?” she snaps, spinning to face me.

There she is....

The guy she's with, Timmy I assume, turns too, squinting like I’m some drunk fan who’s lost his way.

“Hey, buddy, this area’s off-limits. You need to get back out there. The next show’s starting in like—”

I move. Not walking...shifting, slipping through space faster than the human eye can track. One blink and I’m there, face to face with him. The scent of mediocre confidence burns my nose.

He startles, stumbles a step back. “Wait, what the—”

“You don’t belong in here,” I say, voice low and steady. “You’re going to walk out of this room and won't come back. Forget you saw me. Forget she was back here.”

His pupils dilate. His breathing slows.

He nods and walks out like a good little puppet.

She watches it all, mouth slightly parted, confusion and fear mingling in her gaze. Her arms are folded protectively across her chest, but the tension in her shoulders betrays her.

“What did you just do to Timmy?” she demands, eyes locked on mine like she’s trying to figure out if I’m even real.

“I helped him make a smarter choice,” I say. “You should be grateful.”

I take a step toward her. She steps back.

Smart girl....

She snatches a hairdryer from the counter like it’s a fucking weapon and points it at me. “Don’t come any closer,” she warns, voice tight.

I laugh, dark and quiet. “What’re you going to do? Blow-dry me into submission?”

She glares. “Don’t fucking test me asshole!”

“Little slut,” I murmur, tilting my head. “You had more value with your legs spread for strangers than mouthing off to me.”

She opens her mouth, probably to talk back or scream...but I move again. Fast. I’m on her before the sound escapes her throat. One arm pins her wrists above her head, the other presses against the wall beside her.

She gasps, breath leaving her in one terrified rush.

Her heart pounds so loud I feel it in my teeth.

So close. Her skin is warm, flushed. She’s trembling, and I should drink that fear in, should savor it like I always do...but something’s wrong. Off. My instincts misfire. I inhale, and that’s when it hits me.

Her scent.

Not blood. Not just blood. It's something else. Something potent, ancient, and wrong. My grip slackens for half a second. I blink, trying to reset.

What is this?

She writhes beneath me, struggling. “Get the fuck off me, you psycho!”

She’s swinging insults, bucking against my chest, kicking at my shin, and it should piss me off, but I can’t stop staring at the curve of her neck. The pulse there, it’s calling me.

I haven’t fed in a while. That must be it. I’m imagining this. Just hunger twisting itself into madness.

“Stop it!” she screams, but I slap a hand gently over her mouth, just enough to hush her.

“Shhh,” I murmur. “Or you’ll wake the rest of the monsters.”

Her eyes are wide now, wild.

She bites down hard on my palm and I flinch. Not from pain. From the electricity that shoots through me the second her teeth break skin.

I feel it.

My heart...My fucking heart slams once in my chest. It shouldn't, it doesn't beat. But it just did.

It thunders once. Loud. Too fucking loud. It echoes through my chest like a drum waking after centuries of silence. My body stills. Her fists keep flying, weak, frantic punches....but I barely feel them. I’m too caught up in the sound. The rhythm. The impossibility.

My heart just beat.

It hasn’t done that in over three hundred years. Not once. Not even close. I’ve been stabbed, burned, nearly decapitated....nothing. I was declared dead the moment I turned, and that cursed stillness inside me was proof. So what the hell is this? I stare at her, at the wild fire in her eyes, the scent of her skin still coating the back of my throat. Something’s not right. Something’s not normal. I need to finish this, I should finish this, but all I can do is stand here, reeling from the traitorous thud inside me.

She thrashes under me like a cornered animal, kicking, clawing, even tries to bite me again. I grab both her wrists in one hand and slam them above her head. “You’re not helping your case.” My voice is a low growl, void of patience. “You keep fighting like you have a chance.”

Her eyes burn with defiance, even now. I admire it, briefly, then I crush it.

She spits in my face.

I wipe it with the back of my hand, my jaw twitching. That’s it. I grip her by the waist and hurl her against the vanity. The mirror shatters on impact, a spray of silver raining across the room. She cries out, lands hard, glass crunching beneath her. Her arm is bleeding, I smell it before I see it, but I’m already moving. My boot crushes a shard as I advance.

She’s on the floor now, crawling backward, bleeding, panting, her eyes wide and frantic. “Stay the fuck away from me!” Her voice cracks on the last word.

I kneel over her before she finishes the sentence. One hand grabs her throat, the other slams down onto her chest, hard enough to bruise. She gasps. My thumb presses into her collarbone. Just one clean move. One swift snap, and it’s over. I’ve wasted enough time on this pathetic showgirl and her empty temptations.

Her hand flies up, bloodied and trembling. The scent hits me like a brick to the skull.

And then....Fuck!

Fangs out. No command. No hunger-driven instinct. Just there. Raw and sharp, aching like they haven’t in years.

My gaze drops.

There's blood. Bright red on her palm, smeared across her fingers. The scent curls into my lungs, addictive and pure. It doesn't just tempt me, it calls me. Fucking lures me.

“What the hell are you…” she whispers, horror etched across her face. But I don’t answer. Can’t. I’m too busy staring at the blood like I’ve never seen it before. My throat burns, my mind fractures. And then I hear it....roaring, vicious and absolute, not from her lips but from somewhere deeper.

Mine!

The word rips through me like a blade, ancient and final. I stagger back a step, hand slipping from her chest.

No. No. No.

This lowly, insufferable, infuriating being, this mess of blood and fire...is my mate?!

Curse the Goddess!!