Gideon’s POV

She tasted like something I’d forgotten I needed.

Warm. Soft. Human, and yet not.

When Evelyn kissed me back, there was no hesitation, no fear—just want. That was the moment something inside me gave way. For the first time in centuries, I wasn’t thinking of consequences or clans or bloodlines. Just her.

When our lips finally parted, her breath came out fast and shallow. She blinked up at me with wide eyes, dazed like she’d stepped out of a dream and wasn’t sure if she wanted to go back in.

I brushed her hair from her cheek, fingers trailing down to her jaw. Her pulse fluttered beneath my thumb like wings. “Say something,” I murmured.

She smiled faintly, eyes searching mine. “You kiss like someone who’s been waiting a long time.”

I huffed out a laugh. “I have.”

She leaned into me, forehead resting against my chest. “I didn’t think you felt this… deeply.”

“I didn’t either,” I admitted. “At first, I only wanted to keep you close. For the tether. For your safety. Maybe even for selfishness.”

Her hands gripped the front of my shirt. “And now?”

“Now,” I whispered, “I just want you.”

I felt her shiver against me, and not from the cold.

“Then take me,” she said quietly. “If you want me… I want you too.”

I pulled back, cupping her face gently. “Are you sure?”

Evelyn nodded, her voice low and certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The breath left my chest in a slow exhale. I wrapped my arm around her waist and lifted her effortlessly into my arms. She gasped softly, arms around my neck, and I carried her back into the manor without a word. The halls were quiet. The rest of the world might as well not exist.

I brought her to my chamber—rarely used, rarely shared.

The room was dark, lit only by a few oil lamps and the silver spill of moonlight pouring in through the tall window. I set her down at the foot of the bed, and she stood there, breathing heavily, watching me with parted lips and trembling hands.

I approached slowly. I wanted to give her time, give myself time too. Centuries had taught me patience, but she… Evelyn unraveled that in me.

She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. My gaze traveled down her body—newly immortal, but still holding the warmth and vulnerability of the girl I’d first seen bleeding and begging in that hospital room.

“You’re beautiful,” I said. The words tasted strange in my mouth—like something soft and honest I wasn’t used to letting out.

Evelyn stepped closer, placing her hands on my chest. “So are you. But you hide it.”

My voice was rough. “There’s a lot I’ve hidden.”

“Then don’t hide tonight.”

I didn’t.

I leaned down, kissing her again—deeper this time, fuller. Her mouth opened under mine, and she pulled me closer, her fingers tangled in my shirt, tugging at it. I let her take it off. Her touch was bold, but her hands were shaking. I stilled them between my own.

“We don’t have to rush,” I said. “Even now, you have control.”

She smiled shyly, then kissed my jaw. “I want this, Gideon. I want you.”

That was all I needed to hear.

We fell onto the bed together, lips and limbs tangled, learning the shape of each other with slow reverence. I kissed her neck, her collarbone, every inch of skin that made her gasp or sigh. She arched into me, eyes dark with desire, mouth soft and swollen from our kisses.

She was a fire I hadn’t known I was cold without.

I kissed her shoulder. “Still okay?”

She nodded quickly, cheeks flushed. “More than okay.”

I took my time. I wanted her to remember this. I wanted her to know what it meant—for a man like me, for a vampire who’d long buried his heart, to choose this moment.

Her fingers trailed down my spine. Her voice, breathless: “You feel so… alive.”

I smiled into her skin. “That’s what you do to me.”

There was no rush. No need to dominate or prove anything. Just the rhythm of two bodies finding each other in the quiet of the night, guided by something older and deeper than either of us could name.

She whispered my name once, and it nearly undid me.

I moved over her slowly, kissing her again as our bodies aligned. Her breath hitched. I waited.

Evelyn looked up at me with complete trust. “I’m ready.”

So I kissed her—softly, tenderly—as I entered her, inch by inch, until we were one.

She gasped into my mouth, clutching at my shoulders. I held her close, rocking into her with steady control. Her moans grew louder, hands tightening in my hair. My name slipped from her lips like a prayer.

“Gideon…”

I whispered against her skin. “I’ve got you.”

We moved together, lost in the rhythm, the world shrinking until it was just us—two creatures caught between darkness and desire, finding something close to light in each other.

When we finally collapsed together, hearts racing, skin slick with sweat, she curled into my side like she belonged there.

And maybe… she did.

I pressed a kiss to her damp temple, brushing a thumb along her bare shoulder. She was quiet, her breathing soft and even. Her hand slid over my chest, fingers tracing patterns against my skin.

“I thought vampires didn’t feel things like this,” she murmured sleepily.

“Some don’t,” I said. “But I was always different. And with you…” I paused. “You remind me I still have a heart.”

She lifted her head just enough to meet my gaze. “Then I’m keeping it.”

I smiled. “It’s already yours.”

She settled against me again, and I held her tighter, the weight of centuries falling away.

For once, I wasn’t haunted by the past.

For once, I was just a man—holding the woman who made eternity feel like something worth living.

I drifted in the warmth of her breath, her heartbeat still echoing against mine like a vow unspoken.

But then… I felt it.

A flicker.

Faint. Wrong.

Not her.

The air shifted—cold, sharp. A presence.

Evelyn stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open just as the temperature in the room dropped.

And then the lamps died—every flame snuffed out in perfect silence.

From the corner of the chamber, where shadow bled into shadow, a whisper unfurled like smoke:

“You broke the rules, Gideon.”

I froze.

So did she.

And we both knew—this wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.