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⊰ 6 ⊱ Of Blood and Breath

| Penelope |

Those otherworldly eyes hold mine, pinning me in place with their eerie glow. It’s like looking into the heart of a flame, mesmerizing and terrifying all at once. I can’t move, can’t breathe, caught in the thrall of this impossible man and the power that radiates from him in chilling waves.

He takes a step towards me and I flinch instinctively, my hand flying to my belly in a futile gesture of protection. He crouches down, bringing those luminous eyes to my eye-level, and in the next moment, just as bright as they glowed, they stop.

His gray eyes bore into my hazel ones, his voice low and rough as he asks, “Can you stand?”

Mutely, I nod, not trusting my voice to speak. With shaking limbs, I brace my hand against the wall, struggling to my feet. It’s as though the world has tilted and I stumble. I foresee it happening: I’m about to face-plant on the filthy asphalt.

But I never do.

In an instant, he’s there, his hand curling my elbow, steadying me with effortless strength. At his touch, I inhale sharply, the heat of his touch searing through the thin fabric of my sleeve. This close, I catch his scent—something wild and earthly, like a forest after the rain.

“Easy.” His voice rumbles through me, making something in my hindbrain shiver. “I’ve got you.”

I believe you. I don’t know why, but I do.

Swallowing hard, I look up at him, trying to make sense of the impossible being before me. “Who… what are you?” I press with regard.

His mouth quirks, just a fraction, and for a second I swear I see a flash of fang. “No one you need to fear, little rabbit. Not unless you give me a reason.”

The endearment, the barest hint of threat, they should terrify me. But instead a thrill runs through me, something that feels perilously close to anticipation.

Did I hit my head? ‘Cause I must be losing my damn mind.

He straightens, still keeping a light grip on my arm. “Come. We need to get off the street.”

What?

A frisson of fear chases away the strange kindling in my belly. “No. I’m not going anywhere with you.” I try to pull away but his grip doesn’t falter. Panic rises in my throat, and I shout, “Let me go!”

“Penelope.”

The sound of my name coming from his lips shocks me into stillness and I gape at him.

How does he know who I am..?

His unoccupied hand comes up, brushing a strand of hair from my face with surprising gentleness. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help.”

“Why?” I question reluctantly. I search his face, trying to find the lie, to spot the deceit in his eyes. “I don’t even know you.”

Something flashes in his eyes, there and gone too quick to read. “But I know you,” he says. “I’ve been…aware of you for some time.” His gaze drops to my swollen belly and a muscle in his jaw ticks. “Of both of you.”

My head spins, the implications of his words making me feel faint.

He knows about my baby? What does that even mean?!

As I stand here, I can’t help but wonder if he’s been stalking me, watching from the shadows while I’ve been blissfully unaware. If he was, has he just been waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike? What does he want?

He sees the questions swirling behind my eyes and shakes his head minutely. “Not here. Just… trust me, alright? Let me get you somewhere safe. Then I’ll explain everything.”

As reluctant as I am, I almost want to. The sincerity in his voice, the steadfast surety in his gaze, it calls to something deep inside me, something primal and instinctive. This man, this…creature, every fiber of my being is telling me to trust him, to follow where he leads.

It’s insanity. He’s a stranger, an inhuman enigma who just emerged from the shadows. Sure, he saved my life, but that doesn’t change the fact that I just saw, actually saw his eyes glowing.

This is how bitches die in scary movies.

But what choice do I have? I was attacked and now I’m one job short of being able to pay for my electric bill next week. I’m vulnerable and unable to protect and take care of myself and my unborn child. And if this…man wanted to hurt me, he probably would’ve done it already.

Lastly, beyond the fear and anxiety, I want answers. I need to know who he is, what he is, and what he knows about my baby. Even if the truth terrifies me to my core.

Despite feeling like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, I slowly nod, whispering, “Okay.”

Relief flashes across his face, there and gone in a heartbeat. Without a word, he turns and begins striding towards the mouth of the alley, evidently expecting me to follow. And like a lost little lamb, I do. I hurry after him, past my attackers still laying on the floor, almost jogging to keep up with his long-legged pace.

A matte black car idles against the curb and he reaches past me the passenger door. I eye the dark interior warily, softly asking, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we can talk,” he replies. It’s clear that he senses my hesitation because in the next moment, his gaze softens. “I give you my word, Penelope—no harm will come to you or your child. Not from me, not from anyone.”

The solemn vow he spoke with intensity settles something in me, silencing the clamor of fear and doubt. Before I can second-guess myself, I slide into the buttery leather seat, my hands instinctively coming to rest over the swell of my belly.

He shuts the door and moments later, he’s sliding into the driver’s seat, the powerful car purring to life beneath us.

This car must’ve cost a fortune ‘cause…wow.

I keep my gaze fixed on the window as we pull away from the curb, watching the city lights blur past in a wash of neon and shadow. As the city gives way to the lush countryside, we wind higher and higher into the hills, one thought crystallizing in my mind with piercing clarity: there’s no going back from this. My life, my reality will never be the same.

I feel the car slow and I blink, shaking off the introspective daze I’d fallen into. My gaze flickers, looking at the massive wrought iron gate set into a high stone wall that seems to stretch endlessly in either direction. Beyond, I catch a glimpse of manicured gardens and stately trees, a cobblestone drive winding towards a structure that can only be described as a mansion.

My mouth falls open as I take in the sprawling villa, all elegant lines and Old World charm. Warm golden lights spill from the windows, gliding the stone walls and making the whole place look like something straight out of a fairy tale.

“What is this place?” I ask, unable to hide the awe tainting my voice.

“Home.” He almost sounds amused as he enters a code into the electronic panel, the gate swinging open soundlessly. “At least for now.”

The drive curves through the gardens, gravel crunching beneath the tires as we pull up before the grand front entry. I’m still gawking, trying to wrap my mind around the opulence surrounding me, when my door suddenly opens.

There he stands, one hand extended with a knowing glint in his eye. “Shall we?”

Feeling like I’ve stumbled into an alternate reality, I take his hand, allowing him to help me from the car. The massive wooden door swings open at his approach and he guides me into a foyer that looks like something out of an 18th century palace—all marble floors and sweeping staircases with glittering chandeliers.

“This way.” His hand finds the small of my back, steering me down a hallway lined with priceless looking art. I’m so busy staring, trying to take it all in, that I barely notice when we stop, the door closing behind us with a soft snick.

I find myself in a study straight out of a Victorian novel, all dark wood and leather and endless shelves of books. A fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls. It should feel imposing, intimidating, but instead there’s a coziness, a sense of warmth and welcome in the air.

He gestures to a plush armchair set before the fire, urging me, “Please, sit. You must be exhausted.”

He’s not wrong.

After the day I’ve had, the adrenaline that leaches away leaves me trembling and weak-kneed. Gratefully, I sink into the chair, a small sigh escaping my lips as the cushions embrace me.

He takes the chair across from me, the firelight playing across the sculpted planes of his face. For a long moment, we simply stare at each other, the crackling of the flames the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. “Who are you?” I whisper, my fingers twisting anxiously in my lap. “What do you want with me?”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and just like that, his eyes begin glowing again, bright and blue. “Who I am doesn't matter,” he says, the words echoing in the marrow of my bones. “What matters is that you, Penelope, are carrying my descendant.”

The world seems to tilt on its axis, the floor dropping out from beneath me. I gape at him, convinced I misheard him. “Your…your descendant..?”

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