Chapter 8: Haven’t Thanked Me Yet

Chase’s P.O.V

I couldn’t sleep. The house was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made every sound feel amplified—every creak of the wood, every sigh of the wind. But what kept me awake wasn’t the house. It was those eyes. Those damn red eyes.

They kept flashing in the darkness of my closed eyelids, jerking me awake every time I almost drifted off. The hissing too—I could still hear it, like they were right there again, circling me, breathing down my neck, hungry and wild.

And then Alex—he’d appeared like some kind of phantom, tearing them off me like I was nothing more than a piece of meat being fought over. I didn’t want to admit it, but he’d saved me. Still, that didn’t mean I trusted him. Not even close.

I gave up trying to sleep and dragged myself out of bed, padding barefoot down the stairs to the kitchen. Maybe some water would help clear the fog in my head. Maybe. Or maybe I just needed something to do other than lie in bed, haunted by creatures I didn’t even know existed a week ago.

The dim light above the kitchen sink was on, casting a dull glow across the granite counters. That’s when I saw him. Alex. Sitting there like he owned the place, perched at the bar with a glass of whiskey in his hand. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, like nothing in the world could touch him. His eyes flicked up to me as I entered, calm and unreadable.

I froze in the doorway, then forced myself to walk in like I wasn’t rattled. “Isn’t that illegal?” I asked, nodding toward the amber liquid in his glass.

Alex chuckled, low and deep, as he swirled the glass slowly. “Cute. But I’m over two hundred years old, Chase. I think I’ve earned myself a drink.”

I blinked, my hand pausing on the fridge door. “What?”

“I said,” he repeated, raising the glass in a mock toast, “I’m two hundred and thirty-four, give or take a few years. Depending on how you measure it.”

“You’re joking,” I said, voice tighter than I wanted it to be. “Right?”

But he didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. He just took a sip, eyes locked on mine, calm as ever. Like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room.

“No,” he said simply. “I’m not.”

I couldn’t breathe for a second. My fingers gripped the glass of water I’d finally managed to pour, cold biting into my skin.

Vampires. Real. One of them had saved me. And now he was sitting here, casually drinking whiskey like we weren’t from completely different realities.

“I—uh—” I took a step back, clutching the glass like a lifeline. “I should— I should go back to bed.”

I turned, ready to bolt, but before I could take a step, Alex was there, right in front of me, blocking my path. I hadn’t even seen him move. One second he was at the bar, the next he was inches away, his presence overwhelming.

“Not so fast,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “You haven’t thanked me yet.”

I blinked, my fear giving way to a spark of anger. “Thank you?” I snapped, stepping back, but the counter pressed against my spine, trapping me. “For what exactly huh? Standing there while those kids beat the crap out of me? You didn’t do anything until it was too late, what exactly did you want me to thank you for? You even had the audacity to call me brother huh!”

Alex laughed again, but this time it was colder, sharper and really terrifying. “Human affairs aren’t my business, Chase. A few petty slaps? That’s nothing. You would’ve survived a couple of bruises.”

He leaned closer, his eyes shining under the lights of the chandelier. “But an attack from the supernatural? That’s a different story. You’d be dead if I hadn’t stepped in. So yeah, I deserve a thank you. And more little brother, you are even supposed to be crawling on your knees and worshipping me for saving you from death.”

My face burned, anger and fear twisting together. “More?” I said, my voice rising. “What, you want my blood? No way in hell, Alex. I’m not your personal snack bar, I'm not going to give you my blood if that is what you want, that is shit is not happening….”

He moved so fast I didn’t have time to react. One moment he was a step away, the next he was right in front of me, his hands braced on the counter, caging me in, no way to go.

His face was close, too close, and his smirk was gone, replaced by something darker, hungrier. “Who said anything about blood?” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. “That’s not the only thing you’ve got to offer, Chase, there is more, my darling brother, that you can offer.” He licked his lips.

My breath caught, my heart slamming against my ribs. “What… what are you talking about?” I stammered, my voice barely audible. I pressed myself back, but there was nowhere to go. His eyes locked onto mine, and I couldn’t look away, couldn’t move.

He shook his head, his eyes dropping to my lips, then back up. “You’re not as clueless as you pretend,” he said, his voice soft but filled with something that made my stomach twist. “I saved your life today. That’s worth something, don’t you think? And I know exactly what I want in return.”

I shook my head, my mind racing. “No,” I said, my voice shaking. “Whatever you’re thinking, just stop. I’m not playing your games, and I will never do that.”

“Games?” He chuckled, but it was low, dangerous. “This isn’t a game, Chase. You owe me. And what I want…” He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear, and I froze, my whole body tensing. “What I want is you. In my bed. That’s all I’m asking. You, me, and a night you won’t forget.”

My stomach dropped. His words were so damn close to a threat that I almost couldn’t process them at first. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. My mind raced, and I struggled to find my voice.

What the hell was he suggesting? Was he…really asking for what I thought he was implying?