74

EZRA

I’m sure I look like a ghost now.

Like, I know we’re undead creatures. But still, our skin does have that luster—that faint underglow that lingers when we’re properly fed. When we’re balanced. When hunger isn’t scraping at the edges of every waking thought like it is right now.

And now? I look deathly pale. Sickly. Hollow.

I loosen my tie and down another cup of Sanguara. The thick, hot, watered-down blood slides down my throat with a metallic sting. There’s no flavor anymore. No texture. Just a means to an end. Survival.

Fifth cup this morning.

And it’s just 7:00 a.m.

I think I’m losing it.

I shove the empty glass aside, grip my car key and briefcase, and head out of the penthouse. The city is too bright. The drive to H&V is a blur of traffic and half-formed thoughts, all circling the same maddening thing—

Her blood.

The fact that I couldn't hold in another person's blood, especially Morgan's, after marking her.

And now I’m spiraling.

I really want her blood.

But I can't ask.

Not her.

What if I lose her?

In fact, not after everything she’s been through. Not when she's just starting to let me into her life and into Finn's.

So I suffer. Quietly. Painfully. Privately.

By the time I walk into H&V, it’s like the entire floor shifts to look at me.

People say good morning but in that overly cautious, fake-cheerful way that screams You look like shit, sir, are you okay?

I wave them off. Walk faster. Avoid the mirrors. Avoid the whispers.

Make sure I don't run into her.

Until I can't.

I know it's her before she knocks. She didn't even wait for me to give a go-ahead before she steps into my office like she owns the place—which, fair enough, she sort of does. She shuts the door behind her.

I don’t even bother pretending to be fine. I just lean back in my chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest, the other nursing a fresh cup of Sanguara I'm aching to down. 

“You look sick,” she says, walking toward my desk, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I’m not.” I say. My voice is rough. Distant. “Just tired.”

She lifts a brow as she places her hand on the desk. “That’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

I exhale and look away. “Then stop asking questions you don’t want the answers to.”

She doesn’t flinch. “Ezra.” She calls in warning.

Fuck, the way she says my name.

Calm. Firm. Like she’s not afraid of the monster sitting across from her. Like she knows him—and still doesn’t run.

“How many of those have you had today? Two? Three?” she asks, gesturing to the blood cup I’m holding. 

“Five,” I correct quietly.

Her expression tightens. “That’s not normal. You look—”

“I know how I look,” I snap before I can stop myself.

Silence falls between us like a cloak.

I close my eyes briefly. Try again. Softer. “I know how I look. I’m aware.”

She walks around the table until she's standing a few meters away from me. I hold back the urge to push back. There’s a brief hesitation before she says it—like she’s weighing the risk, or the reality.

“I can help.”

My gaze snaps to hers, my breath coming out harshly. “No.”

“Ezra—”

“I said no.” I rise to my feet now, the chair scraping back behind me. “Don’t offer me that. Don’t ever offer me that.”

Her jaw clenches. “Why? You look as white paper and you've been drinking this, what do you even call it again, this… anyhow. You've drunk five cups of this.” Her eyes flash to the clock. “It's just 10:49 am!”

I look at her, this maddeningly brave woman, or, should I say, stupid woman?

“I'm scared for both of us.” I whisper.

She takes another step closer. “Then let me decide if I want you to be scared for me.”

“No, Thea. You don’t get it. You don’t understand how hard it is already, being around you. Smelling you. Wanting you—not just like that, not just as a man but as what I am. And if I take even a drop from you…” I shake my head, voice barely above a whisper. “I won’t stop. I...”

I gulp.

I've starved myself too much to take the risk.

She doesn't back away. “So don’t take a drop. Take enough to survive.”

I almost laugh. She doesn't know what happens when you offer your soul to the devil.

“Thea—”

“Don't Thea me.” She says, interrupting me. “You can just take a sip. I don't mind.”

I blink at her.

She steps even closer, gaze locked to mine. “I’ll let you know if it’s getting too much.”

I want to say no. I should say no.

But hunger is a bastard. And restraint only lasts so long before instinct claws its way to the surface and demands to be heard.

I run a hand through my hair as I place the mug down, every muscle in my body tense.

This is a mistake.

But it’s her.

And I’m so goddamn tired of pretending I’m okay.

I sit back down slowly, dragging a breath through my teeth. My chest rises and falls like I’ve just run a mile uphill.

Her eyes don’t leave mine. She steps between my knees, close enough for my thoughts to splinter.

Then—smooth as anything—Thea climbs into my lap, her knees bracketing my thighs, her hands resting on my shoulders, her scent filling my lungs. My breath catches. My hands hover just above her hips, unsure if touching means I'll lose more of my restrain.

I inhale deeply. She doesn't look like she's going to give up.

I'm too hungry to not want her to. I'm possessive of her too much to want her to.

“Tell me when you feel weak, okay?” I say, voice rough. “Let me know if it’s getting too much.”

She nods, a small smile on her face 

And then I lose the last shred of control I had.

My hand slides up her spine, the other curling around the back of her neck as I pull her into a kiss—hot, deep, desperate. She gasps, then moans, melting into it, into me, her fingers tangling in my hair as if she’d been waiting for this just as much.

She tastes like every good thing I’ve ever wanted. Even the one I didn't know I wanted.

My tongue licks the inside of her mouth, taking her taste like she's the only drop of water in my desert. I trail kisses down her jaw, to the soft curve of her neck. She tilts her head, giving me access, trusting me—Fuck, trusting me. My tongue flicks out, licking just below her pulse as my fingers latch to her breast, palming it.

Right there.

She shivers.

I lick below her pulse again.

And then I pierce.

My fangs slide in effortlessly, breaking skin, and the moment her blood touches my tongue—

Fuck.

Burst of flavour. Sweet, heady, electric. Like lightning in my veins. Like fire and silk and sunlight. Thea doesn’t taste like anyone I’ve ever had before. She tastes like herself—warm and wild and sharp and soft and alive and mine.

I groan against her neck as her body presses closer, her breath hitching in my ear. My hand grips her tighter, the other flat against her back as I drink, fast, all senses gone, leaving only this dying need to satiate the lust.

Everything. Blood. And body.

She whimpers, pressing my head closer.

The monsters are out again.

The sips turn into gulps. 

She whimpers again. 

A part of myself hears it.

The other doesn't.

The other won.

I drink her blood until her pulse which thrums against my upper lips starts to beat weakly.