The Club's Siren Song

She looked around, and the sofa had been smashed into bits—nothing had happened to her. She looked at him, and he had this boyish smile on his face, a small dimple on his cheek. She wanted to reach out and touch him, touch his skin and run her hands through his hair.

The moment was gone when she felt her foot being pulled; Silver Eyes unwedged her shoe and picked her up like she weighed nothing. She heard her name being called; Jax was trying to make his way over to her.

"Jax, get out! I'm okay!"

She felt Silver Eyes tighten his hold on her, and his jaw clenched. Before she could say anything more, she was thrust into a narrow hallway, and a door beeped behind her. Soft white light slowly came on as he led the way out.

"Wait." She stopped and took a moment for herself. What was happening? Werewolves? There was a dead body, and she was off running away with a mysterious man. A very attractive, mysterious man.

"Who are you? What are you?"

She turned to look at him, and for the first time, she got a really good look. His eyes, pale as frosted glass and flecked with traces of silver, carried an unspoken promise of both ecstasy and ruin. The sharp symmetry of his face—angular cheekbones and a jawline carved to perfection. His hair, dark and unruly, spilled across his shoulders, framing a face that belonged to another era entirely.

She was mesmerized. She had never seen anyone as beautiful as he was.

"I'll explain, but we need to move unless you want to be dog meat."

She turned to look back at the way they entered; the sounds were muffled, but she could still hear movement coming from the room. Silver Eyes gently pulled her hand, and they continued walking—the only sound was the click of their shoes on cement.

Once outside, Tessa noticed that they were a couple of blocks away from the club. As she looked at her surroundings, she felt her phone vibrating. Before she could answer, the phone was snatched out of her hands.

"She's safe." Silver Eyes hung up the phone and handed it back to her.

She took a second and dialed Jax back. She let him know she was safe and that she was with a friend, that she would explain everything to him once she was home. As soon as she was done, Silver Eyes continued walking. She followed him in silence, wondering what was going on.

She heard the beep of a car alarm and looked up—they were standing in front of a black SUV. He held open the door for her, and she climbed in. He got in the car and started driving.

"Where are we going?" She turned to look at him, but he said nothing—he looked annoyed.

"What is he to you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. What is he to you? Your lover?"

She turned in her seat and chuckled at his audacity.

"Are you serious right now? Are you jealous?"

He scoffed and turned into a neighborhood that Tessa had never been to. He parked the car and got out; he came to open her door, but she didn't get out. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited for him to say something.

"Not jealous, just curious."

She turned to look at him and unfolded her arms. She was lost in his silver pools. She looked at him, and then his mouth. It was a subtle move, but he noticed. Her breath hitched as he leaned closer. He reached across her, slowly leaned into her ear, and whispered,

"Just a friend."

Before she could react, he had unbuckled her seatbelt and was walking with her toward the door of a quiet townhouse. Inside was the soft glow of a kitchen light that had been left on.

"Make yourself comfortable," he pointed toward the living room and headed upstairs.

She looked around the room and noticed bookshelves carved from dark mahogany lining one wall, their shelves holding everything from brittle, leather-bound volumes to polished artifacts of a world long gone. The fireplace anchored the room, its mantle adorned with relics—a tarnished dagger, a delicate hourglass, and a single black feather—each whispering their own secrets.

A glass coffee table stood at the center, catching the dim light from an antique chandelier whose crystals shimmered like tears. It was a room both timeless and personal, echoing with the presence of a man who belonged to neither the past nor the present, but who shaped them both to his will.

She sat down on the leather couch that invited her to sink into it and rest. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, her mind full of the events she had just witnessed.

"Water."

She opened her eyes to find Silver Eyes standing there with a glass of water for her. She sat up and took the glass, adjusted her skirt, and folded her legs at the knees.

"What's your name?"

She watched as he took a seat on the other end of the couch. He stretched his long legs and crossed them at the ankles.

"Alistair Keir MacKenzie at your service," he tipped his imaginary hat and gave a smile and a wink.

"You can call me Ash, since we're friends now."

He gave her a knowing smile, and she looked away, hiding her own smile.

"Tessa. My name is Tessa."

She turned back to him and extended her hand for a shake. Ash took her hand and brought it to his lips. She inhaled when she felt his lips on her knuckles—they felt soft and left a tingling sensation on her skin.

She stared at him, and her heart rate picked up. Her hand still felt the tingle of where his lips had been. She didn't know whether to jump into his lap or run out of the house. She didn't understand this pull, this sensation that she always felt when he was around.

"What are you?" She stopped her pacing and stared at him. He turned to look at her and hesitated; he looked down, like in a debate with himself.

"Vampire."

She took a deep breath.

"And those things at the club? They were werewolves?"

She continued her pacing and voicing things out loud.

"The girl? She's dead. Someone killed her?"

"Yes. Seems she was the fated mate of one of the werewolves. She was human."

Tessa continued pacing.

"The fight. Someone was trying to kill you. Why?"

He reached out for her hand and got her to stop pacing.

"He was a hunter. A supernatural hunter. He's been lurking around, trying to get rid of us. You saved my life that night, Tessa."

She looked at his chest, remembering the smoke coming off of him.

"I thought he was going to kill you. He had a dagger in his hand. Your clothes—they were smoking, where the cross touched you."

He pulled her back to the couch, sat next to her, and stared out the window.

"I know this is a lot to take in. Falls Hollow has a history—a dark history. While humans live their lives during the day, by night, it's a different story, Tessa."