Enzo's POV
Alaric parked the car quietly in front of the cheap, run-down motel at the far end of town. The building stood like a forgotten wound its cracked walls, flickering neon sign, and mold-infested windows all reeking of everything I wanted nothing to do with. Alaric turned to me, concern swimming in his eyes. He reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair from my face.
"I'll stay away, I promise," he said softly. "No lurking. No eavesdropping. I trust you. But if he lays a single finger on you—"
"He won't," I cut him off, even though I wasn't sure. "I need to do this. Alone."
His jaw clenched, clearly restraining the primal instinct that made his fangs pulse whenever I so much as flinched. But finally, with a reluctant nod and a lingering kiss on my forehead, he pulled away and drove off to tend to whatever vampire affairs demanded his presence. I watched the taillights disappear into the air, and then turned to face my own kind of darkness.
