All Chapters of A Vampiric Kiss : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

32Noah.Isabella had her legs curled up on the armchair, one hand buried in her hair, the other holding a mug of tea she probably wasn’t drinking. She stared at the fireplace like it might offer answers to questions she hadn’t dared ask me yet.I did.“You ever feel like you’re carrying something that doesn’t belong to you anymore?” I asked, standing by the window. The glass was foggy from the cold outside, or maybe it was just me clouding everything up again.Her eyes flicked to me. “What do you mean?”I didn’t move or blink. “I mean… pain. Guilt. Something old or dead, but you carry it anyway, like muscle memory.”She didn’t respond at first. She took a small sip from the cup and set it on the table beside her. “You sound like someone who never let himself forget his past.”“I haven’t.”“Why?”“Because forgetting would be too easy.”She shifted in her seat, just enough to face me more directly. “Is that why you keep everyone at arm’s length?”I smirked. “You think I keep everyone a

Y34Sienna.I was in the apothecary when the rain started. One minute I was organizing jars, and yes, alphabetically, and the next, the forest outside was thrumming with wet sound.I pressed my forehead to the glass and sighed. “Well, that’s dramatic.”I wasn’t particularly worried. Rain made everything smell sharper and earthier. If you stood still long enough, you could almost hear the roots drinking. Still, there was some kind of mischief in the air today.Which, naturally, made me think of Isabella.The girl had been too quiet lately. And by quiet, I mean not texting me dumb memes or calling to ask what herbs help with heartbreak while pretending it was “for a friend.” I knew better.So, I grabbed a bottle of red wine from under the counter, strictly for medicinal purposes, and locked up the shop.***Isabella’s cottage was glowing soft yellow through the trees when I reached it. I could already hear the gentle thrum of a playlist inside, something moody and lyric-heavy, because

H36Sienna. Some mornings feel heavier than others. Not in a gloomy, apocalyptic way, but just in the way your body drags a little, like your soul hit the snooze button too many times. That was me today, wrapped in an old linen robe, staring at the same three chipped mugs in my cupboard and trying to remember why I ever bothered buying peppermint tea in bulk.I ended up grabbing the strongest coffee I had, dumping two spoonfuls into a chipped clay cup, and leaning against the counter while it brewed. My eyes wandered to the window, where the forest edge hummed. The sky was slate gray again. Monsoon was teasing, hiding in the clouds like a bratty child who hadn’t decided whether to show up or not.The shop was quiet, for once. No lost travelers, no moon-sick teenagers asking for calming oils, no Isaac.Thank every elemental spirit for that.I lit a little rosemary and mugwort at the threshold anyway, just for peace of mind. And maybe because he’d been popping up more than necessary. N

38Isabella. The blinking cursor on my laptop screen might as well have been laughing at me.It had been blinking for thirty-two minutes. I knew this because I had set a timer. Not because I was being productive, but because I thought the ticking would pressure my brain into doing something useful. It didn’t. It only made me more aware of every second that passed without a single new word on the page.There were already twenty-three drafts of this chapter. None of them worked.I’d written my main character, let’s call her Elise for now, into a scene with a love interest who resembled Noah far too much. I kept trying to make her walk away from him. She wasn’t supposed to fall for him, not yet. Maybe not at all. But every time I wrote the scene, she turned around. She stayed. She leaned in. She touched his face.And then I stopped writing, because I didn’t know what she’d say next.It was infuriating.I pushed the laptop away and stood up, pacing the room in socks and one of Noah’s old

40Noah. I don’t come here often. Not because of forgotten. Not even because it hurts. I just… didn’t know what I’m supposed to say anymore. After a while, “I’m sorry” stopped feeling like an apology and started sounding like an excuse.But I went today anyway. The sky was overcast in a pale grey that made the world look softer than it really was. There was no wind or birds.The dead leaves made a crunching sound under my boots as I moved through the woods.This part of the forest didn’t get many visitors. Most of the trails didn’t lead here. The trees were denser and more tangled.I kept my hands in my coat pockets. It was not cold but it felt wrong to come here with nothing to hold. Not flowers or even a gift. It was always just my guilt.After a few minutes, the trees opened into a small clearing. If you didn’t know it was here, you’d miss it. There were no markers or headstone. It was just a simple wooden post, half-covered in ivy and a rock with her name carved into it.Elena.T