Chapter 11

Matthew POV

Living with Gabrielle was proving to be... challenging.

Not because she was messy or loud although her incessant arguments with inanimate objects were a close second but because I, Matthew Gorvell, centuries-old vampire extraordinaire, was beginning to feel things. For her.

I’d lived through wars, revolutions, and the invention of social media, but nothing had prepared me for the peculiar feeling of butterflies in the stomach. Butterflies. Me. The predator of the night.

Ridiculous.

The first sign of trouble started in the kitchen.

I was sitting at the counter, pretending to sip from a mug of coffee (it was mostly for show; I preferred my caffeine intravenously these days). Gabrielle, wearing one of those oversized sweaters that humans seemed to think passed for clothing, was bustling around, making what she called “a snack.”

“Want some?” she asked, holding up a plate of... something.

“What is that?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Grilled cheese.”

I stared at her, unimpressed. “Why would anyone grill cheese? Isn’t it fine as it is?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re ruining perfectly good dairy products,” I countered.

She smirked, leaning against the counter. “You should try it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll discover a new favorite food.”

“Doubtful,” I said, but the way she was looking at me, eyes sparkling with mischief, made me reconsider.

I reached for the plate, and our hands brushed.

It was nothing. A brief, fleeting touch.

But suddenly, my enhanced vampire senses decided to betray me. Her heartbeat sounded like a drumline at a rock concert, her scent wrapped around me like a warm blanket, and her skin felt like it was radiating heat.

I dropped the plate.

It clattered to the counter, narrowly missing the edge.

“Are you okay?” she asked, startled.

“Fine,” I said, too quickly. “Just... slippery fingers.”

Her brows furrowed, and for a moment, she looked like she didn’t believe me. Then, thankfully, she shrugged and went back to her snack.

I spent the rest of the morning avoiding her like she was holding a crucifix.

Later that day, we found ourselves watching another movie together. This time, she’d chosen a rom-com.

“Don’t tell me vampires don’t do romance,” she teased as the overly dramatic lead confessed his love on-screen.

“Not like this,” I replied, gesturing at the screen. “This is absurd. No one stares into someone’s eyes for that long without blinking.”

“That’s the point,” she said, laughing.

I tried to focus on the movie, but my eyes kept drifting to her. The way her lips curved into a smile, the way her laugh seemed to fill the entire room—it was distracting.

At one point, she caught me staring.

“What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, looking back at the screen.

“Were you... staring at me?”

“No,” I lied, far too defensively.

Her smirk told me she didn’t believe me.

“Well, if you were, I can’t blame you,” she said, turning back to the movie.

It took me a moment to realize she was teasing me. And even longer to realize that my cheeks were heating up.

The real tipping point came that night.

I was in my study, attempting to distract myself with a book on advanced alchemy, when she walked in.

“Hey,” she said, leaning against the doorframe.

“Do you ever knock?” I asked, more to distract myself than anything else.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she replied, stepping inside. “What are you doing?”

“Reading.”

“Of course you are,” she said with a grin. “Is that all vampires do? Read and brood?”

“We also avoid awkward humans who ask too many questions,” I retorted.

She laughed, walking over to examine one of the shelves.

And then she did the unthinkable. She picked up a vial of Holy Water.

“Be careful with that!” I exclaimed, standing so quickly my chair nearly toppled over.

She froze, looking at the vial in confusion. “Why? What is it?”

“It’s Holy Water.”

Her eyes widened, and she quickly set it back on the shelf. “Why do you even have that?”

“For emergencies,” I said, stepping closer. “Do you know how hard it is to get Holy Water these days? The church is very strict about distribution.”

“Noted,” she said, her lips twitching as if she was trying not to laugh. “I’ll steer clear of the vampire kryptonite.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “You’re going to be the death of me, Gabrielle.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

When I looked up, her expression had softened.

“Matthew...” she started, but then she hesitated.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and charged.

For the first time in centuries, I felt... vulnerable.

“Goodnight, Gabrielle,” I said, breaking the moment and stepping past her.

As I walked away, I could feel her eyes on me, and for the first time in my long, undead life, I had no idea what to do.

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