Chapter 12

Matthew POV

The next morning started awkwardly. Well, more awkward than usual.

Gabrielle was in the kitchen, humming some pop song that I was certain had been written solely to torment me. She had one earbud in, and as she danced around, completely unaware of my presence, I found myself staring. Again.

Why was I staring? Because I was Matthew Gorvell, vampire extraordinaire, and apparently, I had lost all sense of decorum and self-control.

Her neck was the problem.

It wasn’t just soft and inviting; it was practically glowing in the early morning light, a siren call to every vampire instinct I’d spent centuries suppressing. My fangs ached, like they were screaming, Now, Matthew! Now’s the time!

I shook my head and forced myself to look away, muttering, “Control yourself, you ancient idiot.”

“Did you say something?” Gabrielle asked, pulling out her earbud and turning to me.

“Nothing,” I replied, far too quickly.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Right... well, good morning to you too, Mr. Broody.”

“Broody? I’m not broody,” I said, crossing my arms.

She smirked. “Sure. And I’m not the queen of grilled cheese.”

For a moment, I just stared at her. Why was everything she said so... endearing? And why was I suddenly hyperaware of the pulse in her neck?

The second incident happened in the living room.

She was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone, and I was pretending to read a book. Every now and then, she’d laugh at something on her screen, and my traitorous brain would imagine that laugh directed at me.

I couldn’t help it. My eyes kept drifting to her neck again.

I imagined leaning over, brushing her hair aside, sinking my fangs in...

“Matthew!”

I jolted, realizing she was staring at me.

“What?” I asked, perhaps too loudly.

She frowned. “You’ve been glaring at me for like five minutes. What’s your deal?”

“I wasn’t glaring,” I said defensively.

“Oh, really? Then what were you doing?”

“Thinking,” I lied.

She leaned closer, scrutinizing me. “Thinking about what?”

“Taxes,” I blurted out.

Her brow furrowed. “Taxes? You don’t even pay taxes. You’re a vampire.”

“Well, someone has to think about them,” I snapped, burying my face in the book to avoid further interrogation.

She stared at me for a long moment before bursting into laughter.

But the real disaster struck that evening.

We were standing in the hallway, having one of our usual banter-filled conversations about absolutely nothing important. She was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, while I stood a respectable (yet totally-not-awkward) distance away.

And then, it happened.

Her laughter trailed off, and our eyes met.

There was a shift, subtle at first, like the air around us had thickened. She tilted her head slightly, exposing more of her neck a gesture that felt entirely accidental and entirely lethal.

My fangs throbbed, and my instincts roared to life.

Her lips parted, and I swear my undead heart almost started beating again.

She was so close. Too close.

And yet, I found myself leaning in.

She leaned in too, her gaze flickering between my eyes and my mouth.

This was happening. This was really happening.

Our noses brushed, and I could feel the warmth of her breath against my skin.

“Matthew...” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

And then...

My phone buzzed. Loudly.

The sound was like a bucket of ice water to my brain.

Gabrielle jumped back, her cheeks flushing bright red. “Oh my God,” she stammered, rubbing the back of her neck. “I—I have to go... do... something.”