She was awake.
Noah didn't need to see her to know. The shuffling upstairs gave it away.
He shoved the door closed with a nudge of his boot, arms weighed down with groceries. Before the latch caught, she was on him—fast and sharp, like a firecracker.
"Where did you go? Do you know how surprised I was? When did we get back? Did you drug me? Why can't I remember anything?"
The words hit like pellets, but he walked through them, dropped the bags onto the dust-coated counter, and nudged her aside, making for the fridge—one of the few things in this place he'd managed to get working.
"Ask one thing at a time," he muttered.
"Answer me!" Her hands fell to her sides, blue eyes cutting into him.
"You lost control. I put you down. What else is there to say?" He twisted off a bottle cap and took a drink.
"You poisoned me with that again?" Her gaze sharpened, sparks dancing at the edges.
Noah stifled a groan. "Was I supposed to let you drain me to death?"
She opened her mouth, hesitated. Silence hung between them. Then, softer than he'd ever heard her, "Did I really?"
"Yes." He tossed the empty bottle into the trash. "I had to put you down. But don't worry—no one saw."
"Ugh, that's not important! Why did you let me bite you?"
Noah shot her a look, sharp and unyielding. "I would have killed you instead, but I didn't have that option available."
"I'm sorry, okay."
"I don't care." He turned on his heel, walking away, hoping—praying—she'd drop it.
"I haven't been eating, and things just got blurry for me. I wouldn't have done it otherwise."
"Not my concern."
He strode into the living room, her footsteps trailing behind like a shadow he couldn't shake. The TV flickered to life as he turned it on, but her presence loomed, her breath warm against the back of his neck. He moved to the hallway. She followed.
Her voice was relentless, spilling apologies and explanations like a broken faucet. Noah clenched his jaw, his patience thinning with every word. He couldn't understand why she wouldn't let it go—or why she seemed so shocked by what she'd done.
She was a monster. No matter how pretty the package, no matter how carefree she acted, that truth was unshakable. That night had only proven it. He didn't care, so long as she didn't kill him.
He could tell her this, but it wouldn't sink in. It never did. She'd still act like she cared, like they weren't enemies forced to share the same goal.
"Enough!" His voice cracked like a whip as she tried to follow him into the bathroom. "Stop apologizing. It doesn't matter."
"I know it doesn't matter to you, but it means a lot to me."
"Well, next time it happens, know that I'm going to use a stronger dose."
The door slammed shut in her face, the sound reverberating through the silence she left behind.
"Hey," she rapped on the door twice, sharp and impatient. "What was that anyway? Was it silver?"
"Yes, and vervain."
"Ew." Noah didn't need to see her face to know she was grimacing. He could picture it—nose scrunched, lips curled in disgust—even though he wished he couldn't.
"That stuff is poison, Noah. Couldn't you have found something that didn't leave so many lasting effects?"
"You slept through most of it." He stepped out of the bathroom, his gaze flicking to her briefly. "Why do you care?"
She made a face, trailing behind him as he walked back to the living room. "Did I bloat? Rashes?"
"I don't know. Leave me alone."
She sighed, sinking onto the couch, arms folded tightly across her chest. "If only I could feed more frequently, this wouldn't have happened."
Noah didn't reply. She already knew his answer. He wouldn't let her feed—not when he knew she wouldn't be able to stop. Maybe he could put her to sleep again, like he did that night. But that was a week ago, and Seraphine hated the comatose-but-aware state that unconsciousness brought.
The agreement stood. He would let her live, freely, as long as she didn't feed on humans. And until he found a way to end her life more permanently, that was the best he could offer.
"So we're back here, huh?" She glanced around, her attention finally shifting from that night.
Daylight streamed weakly through the windows, but she didn't look like she'd be going back to sleep anytime soon. After being shut in a box and kept in a comatose state for a week, Noah could understand not wanting to sleep—even if she felt less awake during the day.
"Where else were you expecting?" He asked, though his voice lacked interest.
She was like a bored child sometimes, restless and relentless. If he didn't pay attention to her, she'd make his life hell.
"Hmm, nowhere. I like it here. Just… there's nothing."
Of course there was nothing.
They were in the middle of nowhere—an abandoned house somewhere in rural Texas, surrounded by land and silence and not much else. No neighbors. No roads. No accidental visitors. It was the only way Seraphine got to exist without being a walking threat.
He didn't bother explaining. She already knew.
"There's electricity," he said instead. "If you're bored, grab me a beer and cook something."
Her head snapped to the counter like a bloodhound catching a scent. Her eyes lit up when she spotted the bags.
"You went shopping? How'd you get money?"
"From the hunters. The one who gave me the job."
She practically sprinted to the groceries like they might vanish. "Wow, I can make a lot of dishes from this."
Noah watched her sort through the bags like a kid on Christmas morning. For someone who was supposed to live on blood, Seraphine had an unhealthy obsession with food. Especially sweets. It didn't make sense—biologically or otherwise—but she never cared for logic.
Still, he couldn't complain. The only upside of having her around was that she cooked like she'd been born in a bakery. He'd been living on dry ramen for a week while she was unconscious. He hadn't expected her to wake up today, but now that she had, he'd take the upgrade.
"Have at it," he said. "Don't forget the beer."
"Okay!" she chirped, then skipped over with the bottle like she hadn't nearly murdered him days ago.
Noah sank into the couch and let the TV distract him, letting his muscles loosen for the first time in hours.
Dinner came fast—something she called spiraling cheese veins, which was just spaghetti drowning in cheddar. It was messy and possibly the best thing he'd tasted In a month. He didn't compliment her. She'd already seen it in the way he didn't speak while eating.
Then, halfway through the meal, she asked:
"What did you do with Destiny?"
Noah didn't pause, his jaw working steadily as he chewed. "What do you mean, what did I do? What do you think I did?"
"She never learns, Noah. She's going to keep recruiting hunters to hunt us."
His teeth ground harder, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he stared out the window near the sink. The glass was smudged, the view outside bleak and empty, but it was better than looking at her.
"I know you like her," Seraphine said, her voice softer now, almost teasing.
His glare snapped to her, sharp and cutting. She faltered, choking on her words.
"Fancy her?" she tried again, testing the waters.
"Shut up."
"Don't tell your master to shut up." She pursed her lips, irritation flickering in her eyes. "If it wasn't like that, then why do you keep letting her get away? At least let me compel her."
"Drop it."
"Why do you get so hard-headed when I talk about her?" She smacked her fork against the table, the sound echoing in the tense silence.
"You haven't told me why you came and interrupted my hunt."
She stared at him, disbelief etched across her face. "Are you kidding me? I saved you."
His eyes narrowed, but he didn't push further. He knew better. She wouldn't spill her secrets, not unless it suited her.
"Were you hoping he was strong enough to kill you?"
"Him?" Seraphine scoffed, picking up her fork again. "That fly couldn't leave a scratch on me."
"I seem to remember him tearing you to shreds."
She pointed the fork at him, shaking it like a warning. "I know what you're doing. Don't think I'm naive or a fool. Don't distract me."
"Destiny is out of the question. You got it?" He rose to his feet, his plate empty. "Let's stop talking about it."
"If she hurts you again, I'm going to kill her."
He froze, halfway to the living room. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air.
"Then our deal is off," he muttered, his voice dark and heavy. Without another glance, he walked away.
The sound of her slamming the table followed him as he grabbed his jacket and keys. The door clicked shut behind him, the cool air outside biting against his skin.
Sometimes, a little time apart was what they needed.
Noah drove off, putting miles between himself and the suffocating silence of the abandoned house. Civilization, even in its dullest form, was better than pacing circles in isolation.
He pulled Into a pub—dimly lit, sticky floors, the scent of cheap beer clinging to the air. It wasn't much, but it was enough to pass time.
Settling into a corner, he pulled out his phone, scrolling through the secret hunter site—a space where hunters traded rumors, recruited newcomers, and swapped war stories.
Most of it was useless. Complaints about money, frustration over finding real jobs, half-hearted discussions on retiring.
Then, something caught his eye.
A hunter recounting an encounter—an unsettling one.
And then he asked me about some white-haired vampire. Described her in creeping detail—white hair, white lashes, the whole eerie package. If you guys see someone like that, I suggest you just tell him what he needs to know or you might not make it out alive.
Noah clicked on it, scanning the comments below:
> Sounds like a vampire lord.
> You got lucky, bro.
> Why did he leave you alive?
> Probably 'cause he snitched. Lol.
Noah ignored the chatter and sent his own message.
Can you tell me what he looked like?
He didn't expect a reply—not here, not quickly. Tracking the hunter down for answers was a possibility, but it was an effort that might lead nowhere.
Still… if the vampire was who he thought it was, then he and Seraphine needed to be anywhere but near him .
His finger tapped absently against the screen, lost in thought. Then, movement beyond the door pulled him out of it.
She was here .
Seraphine moved with careless ease, arms swinging, white hair whipping free in the dry western wind. Her dress clung and billowed, fighting to stay on her skin.
She was looking for him.
His brow furrowed. Already? He hadn't been gone an hour.
Something was off. She was watching him—keeping too close a track of his movements. But why?
Should he stay put, let her pass, and see what she did? Watch her until he could figure out what was running through her mind?
She didn't look worried. Which meant this wasn't a chase, wasn't about danger.
But then again, with Seraphine— who always looked one step away from grinning —it was impossible to tell when serious meant serious.
She walked past, oblivious.
Maybe the strong smell of alcohol had thrown off his scent.
For now, he was invisible.
His phone buzzed.
It was the hunter.
Are you the one who's with her?
Noah frowned. An odd question.
"The one with her?"
That meant this hunter knew her—even though he claimed he didn't.
Was he even a hunter?
Another message popped up.
If you would like to tell me where you are, I can come.
Yeah. That was suspicious.
Noah logged out, shut off his phone, and shoved it deep into his pocket. Whatever was going on, he wasn't getting involved—not like that.
He tossed cash onto the bar, gave a quick nod to the bartender, and stepped out the swinging door into the dry, sunlit street.
She was fast .
Noah spotted her at the far end of the road, strolling like she didn't have a care in the world, arms swinging wide, turning her head left and right in lazy curiosity.
Someone greeted her. She nodded back. People were staring.
She was eye-catching , even more so during the day—where her stark white hair glowed under the unforgiving Texas sun, her dress twisting and billowing around her frame.
It was rare for her to be out this early. The town's folk were likely seeing her for the first time, and one look was enough to tell you she wasn't normal .
She stood out like a beacon, like someone with nothing to hide .
And that? That was dangerous.
Noah scanned the street, eyes landing on an old farmer's hat resting on a bench outside the pub—left there in distraction, forgotten by its owner.
Perfect.
He grabbed it and jogged to her, wasting no time. The hat landed like a slap on her head, pressed hard over her face.
"Ow, Noah? Is that you? What are you doing?"
"For a woman on the run, you sure know how to stand out," he said, still pressing down.
"Stop it!" She tugged at the brim but paused when he muttered—
"Keep it on."
"Ugh, why? It's covering my vision . I can't see."
Noah sighed, stepping closer, adjusting the hat until it sat properly.
Blue eyes winked up at him through the shadow of the brim, a mischievous smile curling her lips.
"There you are," she said, amused.
"So, you came out here looking for me after all."
"Even if we argue, stomping off without saying anything is forbidden ."
"Forbidden my arse."
She laughed, pulling his hand away. "Sorry about what I said," she shrugged, casual, as if her words hadn't carried weight before. "I'm just worried, that's all."
Noah stared, momentarily struck by her inability to keep any of her thoughts to herself. But instead of snapping, he exhaled, choosing the olive branch .
"I can handle her. And all the hunters that come after us. I'll try not to get hurt in the process."
Silence stretched between them until he finally looked up—only to find her beaming.
Beaming.
It was unnerving, the way she switched moods so effortlessly. And then, just like that, she bolted forward, out of the blue—
"Let's go!"
Noah blinked, watching her run ahead before calling after her, half-amused, half-exasperated .
"Just so you know—you're running in the wrong direction . The house is that way." He pointed the opposite way.
"We're not going back home. We're going dancing."
His brow twitched. Of all the things he was expecting, that wasn't one of them .
He could have commented—could have reminded her that the abandoned, rundown house she so fondly called 'home' was nothing but a temporary hiding place —but he was more concerned about her next words.
"Dancing where?"
"The people on the road said I looked like a model," she mused, smug. "There's a competition on the outskirts of town. Let's go look."
"Yeah, that doesn't sound like a good idea."
"Don't be so uptight, Noah." She twirled around, walking backward, teasing. "It wouldn't kill you to have a little fun."
That wasn't the part he was worried about. The more people saw Seraphine, the more they would know her . And the easier it would be for the wrong people to find them .
People far more troublesome than hunters.
"We can't stand out. You are the one who told me that." His voice was firm, but he still followed.
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Of course. I've been on the run for ten years and I've managed to elude them. One night isn't going to change that. "
Yeah. He thought so too.
This town— this obscure, middle-of-nowhere speck on the map —was the kind of place Seraphine didn't belong .
She wanted the stage, the lights, the music . Not this quiet, dull town with a population of barely 20,000 .
She had been locked away for a week , forced into comatose stillness. This was her chance to stretch out .
"Alright," he relented. "But don't feed . I'm going to be close by, watching. If you so much as—"
"I won't," she rolled her eyes, cutting him off. "Where are you going to be?"
"Around."
He had no intention of stepping into any kind of gathering. That part was for her.
"Can't you come with me? Please?" Her hands pressed together, lips poked out, lashes fluttering. Blue eyes—bigger, brighter, softer. Moist like she was one breath away from pleading.
"That doesn't work on me." His voice was flat, unmoved. He turned, already walking away.
"Meanie."
She puffed her cheek, arms folded tight as she watched him go. He waved her off.
She had fed , her skin no longer paper-thin, the unnatural pallor faded enough that she might blend in— as long as she kept those eerie hair and eyes hidden .
It didn't take long for Noah to find her again.
She had made friends .
Too fast. Too easily.
They danced with her—hands linked in a circle, heads thrown back in laughter, bodies moving with reckless joy.
She looked… real . Too real.
Someone had braided her hair, woven flowers into it. The small adjustments softened her edges—hid the raw, untamed wildness of what she was.
Seraphine never cared about appearances. No skin-care routine, no vanity, no effort . She woke in white, went to sleep in white, drifted through the world in white—her hair tangled and wild, yet somehow always falling back into place.
Nature's most effortlessly attractive monster.
But here, in the dim glow of festival lights, tucked beneath a hat, dancing with strangers—
She could have been mistaken for a normal girl.
Noah sat nearby, settling onto a bench, buying himself a drink.
No one looked at her oddly. At least, no one looked at her like a monster .
But someone was watching her.
Deep, focused, tracking her like a missile.
Noah observed him discreetly—a lean frame, brown hair, stocky build. Hunter? No.
His shoulders were too relaxed, his stance perched but untrained .
So what was he? And why was he watching Seraphine like that?
Irritation prickled.
It bothered him—the way that man looked at her. Like she was dessert . Like she was something for the taking .
Maybe it was the fact he didn't know what he was really looking at .
That she could swallow him whole and spit out his bones .
Or maybe… Noah just didn't want anyone else to know what she was .
Either way, it rankled .
But as long as the man wasn't trying to do anything , Noah wouldn't interfere.
Not yet.
Seraphine finished dancing and floated toward him, all sunshine and joy, the skirt of her dress fluttering like she hadn't a care in the world. "Did you see me?"
"It was hard not to."
"I was amazing, right?"
"Sure," he said dryly. "If you're quite done, we need to get out of here."
"No way. I want to stay a little longer."
"It's been four hours."
"I'll be good, I promise. Noah, please."
There it was again—those eyes. That too-big, too-blue look that made it hard to say no without feeling like a villain in a fairytale. He sighed, shrugging like it didn't matter, like he wasn't already making mental calculations of how many exits were in this part of town and how fast he could drag her out if things went sideways.
It wasn't that he had to watch over her. She could take care of herself—probably better than he could. But Seraphine had a flair for the dramatic. She reacted big. And Noah had seen firsthand how small provocations could end with someone dead.
"No deaths. You understand?" He pointed a firm finger at her.
Seraphine gave a lazy salute just as someone else decided to join them.
"Good evening, guys." A voice too casual, too smooth. Noah turned his head just slightly, enough to get a full view of the stranger approaching with a practiced smile. "Haven't seen you two around before. My name's Austin."
He even did the hand-on-chest gesture, like he was on stage introducing himself to an audience.
"Nice to meet you, Austin," Seraphine said, her voice bright as summer. "You can call me Sera."
"You too. Wow, you're a ray of sunshine." His eyes flicked to Noah, then back to her. "Is this your brother?"
It was flirtation. Obvious, amateur-level flirtation. Noah barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Instead, he took that as his cue.
He stepped away, muttering nothing in particular, letting the crowd close around him as he left. He had no business in her love life. He didn't want to have business in her love life. Still, as he walked off, something sharp pricked at the edge of his chest.
Has she even had one before? He doubted it. And if she did, the men probably didn't last long. Literally.
He heard Austin chuckle behind him. "Not very friendly, is he?"
Seraphine laughed—a little too hard.
Noah reached his bike, turned to glance back.
She was still talking to the guy, face glowing, throwing her head back with laughter like she'd known him for years. Like she was normal.
Was he really that funny? Noah wondered, jaw tightening. Or was it just that Seraphine liked the attention?
Noah snorted and reached under the seat for his helmet.
That was when he smelled it .
The coppery tang hit fast— blood .
Thanks to Seraphine's diet, his sense of smell had sharpened beyond normal limits. He picked up the scent in seconds.
His fingers loosened around the helmet.
Glancing toward her, he noted that her nose hadn't caught it yet .
Should he investigate?
This deep into the forgotten corners of the state, vampires weren't a common sight. That was his only concern . But he couldn't just ignore this.
Rolling his shoulders, he moved.
The party raged on behind the building, music hammering through the air— too loud to hear anything else .
He slipped Into the shadows, unseen.
Once he was clear, he pulled his new sword, steps slow and calculated as he followed the scent .
Noah reached the edge of the building, peering out.
A dark, overgrown path stretched behind the place, leading into the forest—deep, tangled, untouched.
No one was around.
But his hunter senses prickled .
Something was out there . Someone .
He crouched, shuffling forward—
Then Seraphine was suddenly there , her grip steel , her speed inhuman .
Before he could react, she hauled him back , throwing him against his bike.
"Get on," she ordered, voice clipped, urgent.
Her face—one he had only rarely seen this serious —was unreadable.
"Why? What's out there?"
"Don't ask questions, Noah. Trust me and get going. "
He stared. She expected him to leave her behind .
"What about you?"
"Right behind you," she smiled.
The look didn't reach her eyes.
"What is it, Seraphine?"
"Nothing you can handle. Trust me for once, Noah. "
There are only a few things in this world that rattled Noah Hale. And them—they were at the top of the list.
"Is it your family?" he shouted, voice cracked with alarm. "Did they find us?"
Seraphine's expression hardened like marble. "Just their lackeys."
But before he could even respond, Noah saw it—behind her.
A man, or what looked like one, stood in the shadows. Only his teeth gleamed white in the dark, stretched into a grin too wide, too sharp. Unnatural.
"Why didn't you tell me?!" The frustration ignited like wildfire in his chest. He ripped the bow from his back, already nocking and loosing an arrow in one smooth, practiced motion.
The figure reached out casually and caught it midair, the grin never faltering.
And then the arrow exploded—green fumes bursting in a hissing cloud of silver dust and vervain.
A howl followed. High-pitched and inhuman.
Screams erupted behind them from the party. Chaos. Panic. Lights flared. People scrambled.
Noah didn't hesitate. He kicked the engine to life, grabbed Seraphine by the wrist and yanked her onto the bike behind him. She went without protest, slipping her arms around his waist as they sped off into the dark.
Whatever that thing was, if it was a vampire, it'd be too busy clawing through the burn in its lungs and eyes to follow.
"Noah—" Seraphine started, but he cut in, voice tight.
"How long did you know?"
"I didn't know, I suspected—"
"You should have told me!" He swerved around a rock, sand grinding beneath their wheels. The tires skidded, but he kept them steady, his hands white-knuckled around the handlebars. "Damn it, Seraphine—"
"I knew you'd want us to run again. Hide. I wasn't sure."
"We agreed," he gritted. "We agreed if your family found us—"
"They haven't. These are bounty hunters. If I kill them now, they won't send word. They can't know about you."
Noah blinked, stunned. "They can't—? Everyone already knows about me!"
"Not what you look like," she said quickly, low near his ear. "They know I'm with a human. They don't know you. And I want to keep it that way."
"What does that—?"
"I need to finish this. Get home safe. I'll find you when I'm done."
"What?! Seraphine—"
But she was already moving. In one impossible motion, she slipped off the bike and launched herself into the night like a streak of white lightning.
Noah slammed the brakes. The bike skidded sideways in a cloud of sand and dust. He fought to regain control, tires groaning beneath him until they jerked to a full stop.
She was gone.
No trace. No sound.
He cursed, loud and savage, and brought his fist down hard on the bike's metal frame.
"Damn it."