The abandoned house rose from the fog like a forgotten memory, half-collapsed roof, broken windows, and ivy curling up the walls like silent fingers. Inside, the air was heavy with dust and mildew, but it also carried the faint, familiar scent of other vampires—Selene and Darius, I assumed, had been here before.
Travis kicked a loose floorboard playfully. "Perfect hideout. Rustic charm. Minimal human interaction."
I rolled my eyes but let the warmth of his proximity calm me. Hunters were out there, waiting, but here, in the quiet decay, there was a moment of reprieve.
He pulled his guitar from its case, strumming softly, letting the music fill the empty space. I watched him, fascinated by the ease with which he brought life into the silence. Even danger lurking couldn't mute that part of him.
"You always do that," I murmured, stepping closer. "Make abandoned places feel… less abandoned."
He glanced at me, eyes soft. "That's my gift. Also, my curse. Can't really turn it off."
The room was dimly lit by moonlight streaming through the broken windows. We sat close, knees touching, hands brushing. The brush lingered, fingers tracing familiar lines, hearts syncing in a quiet rhythm.
"Travis…" I whispered, leaning into him. "It's… hard. You make it hard to focus on surviving."
He pressed a kiss to my temple, voice low, teasing. "That's kind of the point, dramatic princess. Life's more interesting with some… distraction."
Our lips met, slow and deliberate, lingering. I felt him pressed against me, warmth radiating through the thin fabric of our clothes, hands exploring carefully, intimately, learning the curves and lines that weren't just physical—they were trust, desire, and need all wrapped together.
"You know," he murmured against my lips, "we really shouldn't be doing this."
"Hunters, right?" I whispered, breath hitching.
He smirked. "Hunters, danger, fog, decayed floorboards… makes everything sexier."
I laughed softly, the sound trembling in the cold air. And then we kissed again, letting the outside world fade—hunters, weapons, rumors of extermination—they didn't exist for a moment.
Minutes stretched into an eternity, and finally, we pulled back, foreheads resting together, hearts hammering.
"Promise me something," I murmured. "No matter what… we survive this."
He pressed his lips to mine one last time, soft but fierce. "I promise. Always."
We settled into a corner, holding each other, listening to the soft music from his guitar, letting intimacy shield us from the storm outside.
Then, faint and deliberate—a noise. Footsteps, slow, careful, deliberate. Not a stray animal. Not the wind. Someone was in the house.
I froze. Travis's hand tightened around mine.
"Hunters," he whispered, voice low, tense.
I drew my knife instinctively, every nerve alert. Shadows shifted at the edges of the moonlight. The fog of intimacy vanished, replaced by the cold, sharp sting of imminent danger.
Travis kissed my forehead, eyes blazing. "Stay close. Whatever comes, we face it together."
And then, from the darkness, a metallic scrape echoed—like the hunters had found us.
I swallowed hard, pulse pounding, realizing we weren't safe. Not for a second.
The music from the guitar had stopped.
The silence was louder than anything else.
And the hunters were inside.