All Chapters of A Vampiric Kiss : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

22Isabella. I stared at the blinking cursor. That smug, blinking little bastard sitting there like it had all the time in the world. And maybe it did. Maybe the cursor didn’t care that I’d rewritten the same sentence seven times in the last hour and still couldn’t find a version that didn’t sound like something an eighth grader would turn in for extra credit.I closed the laptop, opened it again. Nothing. There was no spark. There was no voice in my head whispering what comes next. There was only blank walls and a stuffy brain and the faint whiff of desperation that smelled an awful lot like burnt coffee and self-pity.Outside, the wind rattled the window like it wanted to be let in, or maybe like it was just mocking me. “Look at her,” I imagined it hissing to the trees. “Thought she could write her way out of heartbreak. How cute.”I pushed the laptop away and leaned back in my chair. I’d lit a candle earlier, hoping the scent of lavender and cedarwood would do something inspiratio

24Noah. I hadn’t slept since I left her. Vampires didn’t sleep the way humans did, but we drift. We fade in and out, disappear into memory, into feeling, sometimes into nothing at all. But tonight… tonight, I just stood in front of the mirror.The house was quiet except for the old pipes knocking like bones in the walls. I barely noticed them anymore.My reflection stared back at me like a stranger I didn’t trust.Centuries of surviving things I should’ve never walked away from. Centuries of pretending I wasn’t still bleeding under the surface. And yet somehow, one human woman had undone me in a matter of weeks. A human who shouldn’t matter. Shouldn’t even be a temptation. And yet, she was. God, she was.Isabella Rune.She was still asleep now. I knew that. Peaceful, curled up in the sheets I couldn’t bring myself to touch again. Her skin still on my hands and her breath still in my lungs. Her voice soft, gasping and whispering my name like I was the center of her universe.That was

26Sienna. The bell over the door jingled softly as usual. I was restocking valerian root when I felt the shift in the air before I heard him speak.“Smells like magic and moss in here.”I didn’t turn around. “It’s an apothecary, not a cologne shop.”He chuckled. The sound was warm and smug, like he was amused by his own existence. I turned slowly, basket of dried herbs in one hand.And there he was.Isaac. I’d heard about him a few hours ago, about the new guy who had come into town. News travelled fast here. His suit was sharp enough to cut through my patience, and a smile bright enough to warn of danger. His hair looked freshly tousled by intention, like he’d rolled out of bed and into a GQ shoot. His eyes was identical to Noah’s eyes, but only lighter somehow.I set the basket down. “Can I help you?”“Hope so.” He leaned against the counter like it was a bar and I was the drink. “You’re Sienna.”“You’re observant.”He grinned. “And you’re exactly what I expected.”“Is that a comp

28Sienna. There’s a rhythm to the apothecary I like best in the early hours. There were no customers, no clinking of bottles or awkward small talk. Nothing but the creak of floorboards and the quiet pulse of herbs straining through cheesecloth. Peace.Until recently, that peace had been dependable and predictable.Now it’s cracked.It had been distrusted the same day Issac had walked in. Noah’s brother. You get brother, I think, with the same sharp grey eyes, but with twice the charm and half the decency. I knew from the moment he smiled at me that something wasn’t right, with his big smiles and flirting.Today, I felt him before I saw him.The bell over the door didn’t even ring. I just… knew. The hairs on my arms stood up like they always do before lightning splits the sky. And there he was—leaning against the doorframe like he’d been posing for a portrait.“You always look this serious in the mornings, or is it just for me?”I didn’t bother smiling. “Depends who walks in.”He wal

30Sienna. I don’t normally dream. Not in the full-color, cryptic-symbolism kind of way people always claim. My sleep, when I manage it, is more of a flicker. Half wakefulness, half meditation. Being a witch with fire in your blood does that to you. You don’t always get the luxury of rest.But this dream one carved itself into the walls of my mind. It started with heat.Not the kind I conjure with my fingers or brew into tea, but something raw and wild. It burned across the horizon of a place I didn’t recognize, a forest turned to ash under an angry red sky. Smoke crawled up my legs in vines. My breath came in short bursts. Then I saw him.A man in chains.He was kneeling, shirtless, with his body caked in soot and blood. His head was down, hair falling into his face. The chains weren’t normal. They were blackened metal, glowing faintly at the edges like they’d just come out of the forge. His hands were tied behind his back, his chest heaving with every breath like he was holding som