The Heart Of A Vampire

chapter seventy six: for my overthinkers

He felt his body grow colder with every inch he moved further away from her, as though he were suffering from hypothermia and she was a fireplace.

A fireplace he wanted to extinguish.

Within moments, the haze had worn off, and he felt himself hit with the most staggering sensation- one that he couldn't put a name to, yet made him stop in his tracks.

She hasn't uttered a single word, and suddenly, her silence scared him- was she alright? Had he been too rough?

He brought his hand down to her cheek, gently stroking it and leaning forward once more.

"Are you.. alright?"

She nodded.

That was all he needed. Without another word, he removed his hand, pushed himself out of the bed, and then disappeared in the same flash that he had at the cottage.

Meanwhile, Evangeline felt like she was going to have a heart attack.

That had been her first REAL kiss. The first romantic kind- one she truly enjoyed, and it had rocked her to her very core.

The fact that it was coming from Vlad of all people though was the cherry on top.

He'd been there ever since she had first arrived in Romania, always there to lend a helping hand or make another distasteful joke at her expense.

Sure, he wasn't exactly normal company, but he was himself. And that was more than enough for her.

She had never really taken a moment to look at him though, even despite all the time they had spent together.

It wasn't until she could feel his chest pressed up against hers and her fingers intertwined in his hair that she realized just how handsome he was.

His hair was long and thick- enough for her to be envious of, his skin pale, muscles flexing beneath her hands, goatee scratching up against her chin as he moved against her.

She felt herself slowly getting lost in the fantasy, reliving every moment of the embrace before yanking herself right back out.

This feeling would pass, she told herself- in fact, she was probably dreaming. There was no way she found him that attractive, that she even kissed him.

What was to become of their friendship? Would they never talk again out of sheer awkwardness, or possibly become.. more?

The very thought of the latter made her shiver.

More.

How far could things go between them? How far would he even allow things to go? Would he make her a mistress and nothing more, or would he call her his queen?

She cut herself off- queen? How preposterous of a notion. She could never be Queen. She was looking too deeply into it- one kiss meant nothing.

He'd probably kissed a thousand women just as he had her, and never made them Queen. Her thoughts drifted back to Victoria, and suddenly, she felt terrified.

He'd done away with her so easily, so quickly, despite having made her his mistress. Did that mean he simply didn't care about any of them? Was every woman in his life a game?

Would she be the next one he'd play?

At first, she had been fantasizing. Now she was freaking out.

Suddenly, she lost all control, scrambling around in the sheets to pull them off of her before shakily sliding out of bed, wincing in pain at the sudden movement.