Page 39 of Fangs

She stands, pausing at the door. “Lucy. Be careful. This place—this house—it is not safe. And whatever happened up there, whatever killed Thomas, it may not be done with you yet.”

She leaves.

I move to the window, my legs shaky, my body aching. Outside, the sun bleeds into the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and deep violet. The manor sprawls below, dark and silent. The cemetery is hidden from view, lost behind the curve of the north wing.

I press my fingers to the wound on my neck. The skin is tender, but the bleeding has stopped. The evidence is right there—proof that everything was real.

The shadows. The bats. The bite.

Blake.

I whisper his name into the twilight, and the wind carries it away.

The last light of dusk fades, and the stars begin to emerge, one by one, scattered across the darkening sky like diamonds on black velvet.

I stay by the window, watching the night fall. And I think about vampires, and shadows, and a man with silver hair who rose from the grave for me.

Trouble

Afigure appears in the darkening air outside.

He floats, suspended like a creature torn from a painting and given breath. Silver hair drifts around his face, caught in an unfeeling wind. Violet-blue eyes blaze with crimson rings, alive with power, hunger, and anger.

He is no longer a ghost of shadows. He is solid. Real. Flesh and bone and lethal grace.

My jaw drops.

“How long should I stand here until you invite me in, Lucille?”

His voice drifts through the glass. He tilts his head, a mocking smile curving his lips. “I recovered control of my body. I am no longer a ghost. Surely you know—vampires need an invitation to enter.”

I recover my wits enough to snap back. “I thought you were the owner of this house.”

“The Order must have done something with this piece of land.” He gestures dismissively toward the manor below. “Sold it to a nobody, perhaps. It is no longer part of the property. Vampires cannot access. That is probably why you girls are safe from them during your heat.”

I stare at him, mind racing. He is real. He is here. He is waiting for my invitation.

“Well?” He arches one silver brow. “Are you going to let me in, or shall I float out here all night like a fool?”

“Are you going to bite me again?”

A low laugh escapes him. “Only if you ask nicely.”

I hesitate. Then I push the window open wider.

“Come in.”

He glides through the frame. His feet touch the dusty floor with a soft thud. He is taller than I remember. More solid. More real. The shadows that once clung to him have retreated, leaving only the man beneath—the creature beneath.

And he is furious.

“Lucille.” My name cracks through the silence like a whip. “What the hell were you thinking?”

I step back. My spine hits the window frame. “I—”

He advances, eyes blazing.

My voice rises, fueled by fear and anger. “Thomas bit me. His bite… It was agony. It felt like poison in my veins. Blake’s bite was—”