Stuck with my Vampire Mate

27 - Nightmares And Reality

"Hey Sid, how have you been?" I called out, my voice bright, despite the fluttering butterflies still stirring inside me.

I noticed Sid sprawled on his back on the massive bed, his body relaxed but his face contorted in a deep concentration, as though he were working through some complex thought. Adrian lay beside him, completely unaware, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm as he dozed peacefully. My pulse still hadn't settled from our brief, heated moment outside the bedroom. But then there was Ryan—stoic, serene, his calm demeanour completely unaffected by whatever had just passed between us. It was almost maddening how composed he was, as if nothing had changed, as if he was used to all this. Well, he's a vampire who has been living for ages. Definitely, his dating history could be made into a thick research topic.

I tried to mimic that same unbothered calm, determined not to let my heart betray me. I wouldn't let him see the way his mere presence had this magnetic pull on me, even if every fibre of my being was aching for his attention, his touch, anything to break the tension that now hung between us. The girl in me was practically screaming for him, but I steeled myself, fighting back the vulnerability that wanted to surge through. If Ryan could manage to remain unaffected, then so could I.

"Aside from having a crumbling life and a deadly snoring friend, yeah, I'm holding up," Sid muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shot an exasperated glare at Adrian, who remained blissfully oblivious of the chaos he was causing with every snore. Sid's eyes quickly returned to the ceiling, his gaze distant, as if he were trying to outstare whatever problems plagued his thoughts.

Ryan's voice cut through the silence, dry and unimpressed. "And yet you love him."

With a resigned sigh, Ryan flopped down onto the couch positioned beside the bed, the cushions creaking under his weight. He stretched his legs out in front of him, looking far too comfortable in a way that made me feel suddenly aware of how much strain I was carrying in my own body.

I hesitated for a second, then followed suit, sitting down next to him. I made sure to leave a small gap between us, still hesitant, still trying to hold on to some semblance of control. But the space between us was short-lived. As soon as my limbs relaxed into the couch, Ryan made his move. His left arm settled across my shoulders, his hand brushing lightly against my arm before settling comfortably around me, pulling me into the curve of his body. The gesture was so effortless, so natural, that for a moment, I wasn't sure if it had been intentional—or if he was simply unaware of how much it affected me. My heart skipped a beat, my breath catching in my throat as I tried to hide the way my pulse raced at the intimacy of the gesture.

I couldn't deny the effect it had on me. It wasn't just the physical closeness, but the simple, unspoken comfort of being pulled into his space like this. It felt protective and tender, like I belonged there. But I refused to let him see how deeply it stirred me. Instead, I allowed myself to melt into the warmth, enjoying the quiet safety of the moment, even as my mind raced with questions. Did he realise what he was doing? Or was this just Ryan being Ryan? Is this the 'mate-effect'?

"What? Him? Bro, how can you say that even after hearing him?"

Just as Sid finished speaking, Adrian let out an impossibly high-pitched snore, more like a honking sound than anything remotely resembling sleep, and I couldn't help it. I started shaking with silent laughter, my shoulders quivering with the effort to stifle the noise. Sid, still glaring at Adrian, muttered something under his breath.

"He's just worn out, Sid. Don't be dramatic."

I remained quiet for the moment, settling into the comfortable silence. I was content to just observe their back-and-forth, letting them have their 'boy chat'. There was something so effortless in the way they bantered, so easy in their familiarity, that I felt like an invisible part of the conversation rather than an outsider.