Alex couldn't feel the bite anymore.
Not physically, at least. The punctures had closed up, leaving behind only the faintest tenderness and a memory that kept looping like a scratched record. The pressure of Liam's mouth. The sting. The heat. And then the high — dizzying, unreal — followed by the fall.
He'd asked for it.
Invited it.
And when it was over, he'd kissed Liam with blood still on his lips.
But the moment he got home, the guilt came clawing back.
Not guilt for loving Liam.
Guilt for not telling the truth.
Because his father had seen the marks. And he knew.
Not everything, not yet — but enough to dig out the weapons trunk again.
And that changed everything.
It started with a knock.
Alex had barely closed the front door behind him when Marcus stepped out of the living room and said, "We need to talk."
Alex froze. His brain scrambled to come up with something casual — a lie, anything — but his father was already holding up a folded piece of paper.
A printed photo.
Liam.
From the school website.
"I was doing some research," Marcus said calmly, like they were discussing a math grade. "You didn't tell me your new friend looked so much like one of them."
Alex's stomach twisted. "One of who?"
"Don't play dumb. I know a vampire when I see one."
Alex forced a neutral expression. "You're wrong."
"He's been at the school since you got here. You spend every waking second with him. And then you come home with bite marks on your neck?" He stepped closer. "Do you know what that means?"
Alex met his father's eyes. "I do. And you're still wrong."
Marcus went quiet.
Too quiet.
"You're defending him," he said at last, voice dangerously calm.
"Because he saved me."
Marcus blinked. "Saved you?"
Alex took a breath. "He's not what you think. He didn't hurt me."
"He bit you, Alex."
"I asked him to."
Silence.
It rang louder than shouting.
"You what?" Marcus said.
Alex's voice trembled, but he didn't back down. "I trust him. You're so busy chasing monsters, you never asked why he hasn't attacked anyone. Why he's just… living."
Marcus stepped back, like the words had physically hit him.
"I thought I raised you better."
"No," Alex said. "You raised me to be scared of the dark. Liam's not the one I should be afraid of."
Marcus's jaw clenched.
"I should've told you sooner," Alex added. "About the dreams. About the bruises. I think someone else is hunting here. Not Liam. His brother."
Marcus narrowed his eyes. "His brother?"
Alex nodded. "The vampire who killed Mom."
That broke the silence.
Shattered it.
Marcus stared at him like he'd grown another head. "What did you just say?"
"Liam told me. His brother was there. He said Mom screamed Liam's name when she died."
"You're saying he was there?"
"I don't know how much he remembers," Alex said. "He was young. But I believe him."
Marcus turned away.
Paced.
His hands shook.
"That means he was part of it," he muttered. "He watched it happen."
"Or he tried to stop it," Alex said. "We don't know."
Marcus stopped pacing.
Turned.
And this time, his eyes weren't angry — they were full of something worse.
Hurt.
"You're in love with him."
It wasn't a question.
Alex said nothing.
That was answer enough.
That night, Alex lay in bed staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open, thoughts racing. Every word spoken between him and his father echoed like footsteps in a dark hallway.
He knew this wasn't over.
Marcus wasn't done.
And Liam wasn't safe.
Not anymore.
He didn't sleep.
Not really.
Somewhere around 2 a.m., he gave up pretending.
He grabbed his hoodie and climbed out his bedroom window, careful not to make a sound.
The night air was cold, but he didn't feel it. His mind was too full.
He knew exactly where to find Liam.
The edge of the woods always looked different at night — as if the trees leaned closer and the dark took on a texture of its own.
Liam was sitting under the same tree where they'd first kissed. His head was tilted back against the bark, eyes closed, the faintest shimmer of moonlight tracing his jaw.
Alex didn't say anything.
Just sat beside him.
Liam opened his eyes. "I thought you'd be asleep."
Alex shook his head. "I couldn't."
They sat in silence for a few seconds. The quiet wasn't awkward. It was full of tension, yes — but not the kind that needed to be spoken to be understood.
"I told him," Alex said finally.
Liam's body tensed. "Everything?"
"Not about the second bite. But yeah. I told him I love you."
The words hung in the air, between the trees, in the chill.
Liam turned toward him slowly. "You do?"
Alex looked up. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
Liam's expression crumbled — not with fear, but with relief.
And maybe something like heartbreak.
"You shouldn't love me," he said.
Alex laughed under his breath. "Too late."
Liam's voice was quiet. "He's going to come after me."
"I know."
"I don't want to hurt you, Alex."
"You haven't."
"Yet."
Alex turned, grabbed Liam's hand. "I trust you. Even if that's dangerous."
Liam held his gaze for a moment.
Then kissed him.
It wasn't like the others.
It was slower. Sadder. Like they were saying goodbye to the version of each other that existed before this moment.
Before the danger became real.
Before love became war.
When they pulled apart, Alex whispered, "What do we do now?"
Liam looked toward the trees.
And said, "We run."
Alex blinked. "What?"
"Not far. Not forever. Just… for tonight. Just until we can think."
Alex's heart raced.
He didn't even hesitate.
"Okay."
They didn't go anywhere special.
Just far enough into the forest to disappear.
They ended up in the hollowed-out remains of an old storm shelter — a ruin from some long-forgotten estate that had collapsed years ago.
Liam pulled Alex inside.
It was cold, damp, and silent.
But it was theirs.
For the moment.
"I've never felt this," Liam whispered. "This… human. It terrifies me."
Alex smiled faintly. "Welcome to my world."
Liam looked down. "When I bit you… something changed."
"In me?"
"In me. I can feel you now. When you're scared. When you're close. I think I could find you anywhere."
Alex didn't know whether to be afraid or amazed.
He settled for both.
"I keep seeing your brother in my dreams," he said. "Golden eyes. Like fire."
Liam's shoulders tensed.
"That's him," he said. "His name is Malen."
Alex frowned. "Malen?"
"It means dark gift in Old Etruscan. He named himself."
"Of course he did."
Liam huffed a tired laugh.
Then his face went serious.
"If he's marking you in dreams, he's close. He doesn't just feed. He plays. He gets inside people's minds. That's what he did to my father. To me."
Alex exhaled slowly. "Then we fight."
Liam looked up.
"You'd fight your father's war… for me?"
Alex met his gaze.
"No," he said. "I'd fight for us."
They fell asleep together, wrapped in a blanket of dirt and shadows and whatever kind of love this was — fragile and dangerous and sweeter than any lie.
But outside the storm shelter…
…someone watched.
A tall figure with gold eyes.
And a smile like glass.