Chapter 3

POV Vaelira

Daylight and I have an understanding.

It doesn’t like me.

I tolerate it.

I wake to it pressing against my skin—soft at first, like it’s testing boundaries. Pale light slips through the narrow window, catching dust in the air and turning it into something almost pretty. 

Almost.

I groan and roll onto my back, squinting up at the ceiling. My skin hums faintly where the light touches it. Not burning. Not pain. Just… awareness. Like every nerve ending has been personally offended.

Vampires crisp in sunlight. Wolves soak it up.

I get stuck in the middle—warmth with teeth.

I sit up slowly, joints complaining, and let the light crawl over my hands. My skin glows faintly, like there’s something alive just beneath it. Not enough to give me away. Enough to remind me I’m not built for easy categories.

“Morning,” I mutter. “You’re looking rude.”

The light does not apologize.

Outside, Vireholt in daylight is a different kind of lie.

The city pretends to be ordinary when the sun’s up—market stalls open, humans laughing too loud, wolves acting like their tempers are hobbies instead of instincts. Vampires wear shades and silk and claim they’re nocturnal by choice.

I pull my coat tighter and step into the street.

Sunlight kisses my face and settles there, warm and intrusive. It slides over my collarbones, sinks into my veins. Not pleasure. Not pain. Something sharper. Like being seen.

I feel slower under it. Heavier. My strength doesn’t leave, but it coils inward, watchful. My senses dull just enough to irritate me.

Control tightens.

The hunger quiets, sulks.

“Good,” I murmur. “Stay that way.”

I buy coffee from a human vendor who doesn’t ask questions. The cup is too hot. I like it that way. Steam fogs the air between us as I light a cigarette, ignoring the look he gives me.

“Bad for you,” he says.

“So I’ve heard,” I reply, exhaling smoke into the bright morning. 

The sunlight fractures it into silver threads, making it look prettier than it has any right to be.

I lean against a stone wall and let the sun work its way under my skin. It makes my scars ache—the old ones, not the visible kind. Magic scars. Blood-deep memories that never quite healed right.

My wolf hates the stillness. My vampire side hates the exposure.

I stand there anyway.

By noon, the warmth had settled into something almost comfortable. Almost human. My pulse is steady. My thoughts are quieter. The city hums instead of snarls.

This is the dangerous part.

Daylight makes it easy to forget what I am. It's easy to pretend I belong to the world instead of skirting its edges.

I watch a group of children race through the square, laughing, reckless, alive. One of them brushes past me, all elbows and apology.

“Sorry!” he calls, already running again.

I freeze.

For half a second, I imagine reaching out. Touching that small, bright pulse of life. Feeling the heat of it under my palm.

My fingers curl into my coat instead.

“Not today,” I whisper to myself.

By the time shadows start stretching long and thin, my skin is tight with it—sun-warmed, restless, craving movement. The light retreats reluctantly, dragging its warmth from my veins like it’s offended I won’t miss it.

Good.

I head back toward Maereth’s sanctuary, boots tapping against stone as the city shifts again—humans retreating, wolves stirring, vampires waking like the world just started making sense.

Daylight had its turn.

Night always takes it back.

I smile as the last of the sun slips behind the buildings, my senses sharpening, hunger waking with a familiar, dangerous stretch.

“Miss me?” I murmur to the dark.

The night answers by opening its arms.

And I step into it.