All Chapters of A Vampiric Kiss : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

42IsaacShe didn’t know I was here. Or maybe she did and just didn’t care about my presence. Either way,I watched walk through the trees like they belong to her. Like the wind bends to her mood and the earth rearranges itself under her boots.I continued watching her as she moves with intention. Not like a predator, but like someone who knew she was being watched but refuses to flinch. It was infuriating. And, yeah, kind of impressive.She stopoed near the edge of the creek, crouching low to inspect some plant I couldn’t recognize. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then snipped a leaf off with a tiny pair of scissors from her belt pouch. The whole process was precise and pleasing to watch. Like a spell disguised as gardening.I leaned against a tree a few yards away from where she was, arms folded.She hummed as she was gardening. It was low,soft but almost off-key. I’d say it was cute if I didn’t already know how fast she could light a man on fire with her fingertips.As s

G4NoahThere were a hundred things I could say to her right now.I’d rehearsed every version of this moment in my head, each word polished, each excuse rounded off to sound a little less like the truth. But the second I saw her, barefoot, hair loose, curled on the edge of the bed like she was trying not to take up space, every line I’d planned vanished.She looked up at me and smiled softly.I sat beside her, careful to leave space between us. I’ve learned to give her that, even when it goes against every instinct I have.She hugged her knees tighter. “You’ve been MIA.”“Yeah. I’m sorry.”“You okay?”I could’ve lied and could’ve said I was tired, or distracted, or anything else that didn’t matter. But something about tonight made lying feel wrong.“No,” I said.She waited for me to talk.“There’s something I’ve been trying to say,” I continued, staring at the floor.“Okay.”“I’ve done things,” I admitted quietly. “Things I can’t undo.”She tilted her head. “Same.”I turned to her.Sh

46I wasn’t used to people getting under my skin and staying there. Most didn’t even make it through the surface. But Isaac, that man had carved out a little space in my thoughts and was now living there rent-free, feet up, smirking like he knew exactly what he was doing.It was annoying. Mostly because I couldn’t convince myself I hated it.I kept telling myself it was just residual tension, a leftover reaction from all the magic and fire and the strange gravitational pull that had stirred in the clearing. I’d been startled. That was all. Nothing more.Still, I caught myself thinking about the way he’d looked at me before he said “Truce.” Like he meant it.I shook the thought off as I unlocked the door to the apothecary.The bell above the door jingled softly. The shop still smelled like lavender and sage, and everything was where I had left it, the shelves lined with labeled jars, the bundles of herbs hanging upside down in the corner, and the sun filtering in through the dusty fron

48Noah. I didn’t know what to expect when the door chimed. It was late morning, the café half-full with locals sipping lattes and watching the rain come down again. I’d stopped by on a whim. Something had felt off, and caffeine was a good place to chase that feeling away.She was standing by the counter, looking calm and composed. She had that polished presence people notice. Her hair was in soft waves, blouse ironed and skirt crisp. She looked like she belonged in a boardroom, not a small-town coffee shop.“You must be Noah,” she said before I could move. Her voice had practiced warmth.I lifted my gaze and met steady green eyes. She held a paper bag and a coffee cup. “I’m Natasha,” she said. “I’m… well, I’m a friend of Isabella’s.”None of it surprised me more than her presence here. She looked too old to be a friend of Isabella’s.“Hello,” I said carefully.She smiled. “She’s been wonderful here. I owe her a visit.”I nodded. I could appreciate a thank-you visit. Friendly, polite

5I knew it was him the second the phone rang.Even before I checked the screen, even before I heard the voice. Some things just... settle in your bones. The weight of someone who built you, broke you, and still lingers somewhere under your skin like a scar you don’t remember earning.I hadn’t spoken to my father in months . Not since the last terse letter. Not since he signed his name at the bottom of a sentence that ended with, “You made your bed, Isabella.” And then there was that short letter had sent me a few weeks ago.I thought that was the last of it.But now, here he was, his name flashing on my screen over and over again.I stared at it for a long time. Long enough that I almost missed the call.Almost.But I answered.“Hello?”There was a pause. A breath.Then, “Isabella.”My stomach tightened.His voice sounded different.It was still crisp and formal in the way he always spoke like he was addressing a boardroom, but now he sounded thinner and slower.“It’s been a while,” h