{IRIS}
The man’s eyes flickered to mine, glowing a ghostly silver, pulling into their depths like the moon commands the tide.
A strange heat crawled up my spine, wrapping around my chest, tightening. My breath hitched. For a mont, the pain, the blood, the fear—all of it lted away.
I forgot the bodies.
I forgot the fight.
I forgot about Lorcan.
I forgot everything except him. This stranger . . .
I blinked hard, struggling to ground myself, to hold onto whatever thread of reality I still had. My lips parted, but my voice barely surfaced.
"W-who . . . who are you?" The words tumbled out in a whisper, caught between uncertainty and sothing far more dangerous—fascination.
He tilted his head slightly, studying , his silver eyes never leaving . Then, with slow deliberation, his lips curled into a half-smile—dangerous, knowing, devastating.
It was the kind of smile that promised ruin, whispered temptation, and carried the weight of secrets I wasn’t ready to hear.
"?" His voice was deep, velvety, laced with a dark amusent that sent a shiver down my spine. He licked my blood from his lips. "I’m soone you shouldn’t trust."
His words should have scared . They should have sent stumbling back, seeking escape.
But I didn’t move.
I couldn’t move.
Sothing about the way he said it—like a warning and an invitation all at once—stirred sothing deep inside , sothing I didn’t dare na.
I swallowed hard, my head swimming, but I forced myself to speak.
"I . . . I’m Iris Snow," I said without thought, my voice soft, uncertain, like the na itself ant nothing. I felt stupid for introducing myself in this situation. I was sure that he wasn’t asking.
He studied , his gaze dipping lower for the briefest mont before returning to my face, lingering. And for the first ti, sothing flickered in his expression—sothing soft, sothing unreadable.
Like recognition.
Like disbelief.
"You really don’t know what you did here, do you?" His voice lowered, laced with sothing new—curiosity, perhaps even awe.
My brows knitted together. What I did?
I tried to recall the monts before this, but my mind was a blur of chaos and adrenaline. Nothing made sense.
He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his dark hair as if I was frustrating and fascinating all at once. "I can’t believe it."
His sudden shift in deanor unsettled . Just monts ago, he had looked at like I was prey, his hunger barely leashed, his control thin as a thread. And now?
Now, he was looking at like I was sothing else entirely.
Like I was sothing more.
I stiffened. "What happened here?" My throat was raw, my voice barely above a rasp.
Instinctively, my fingers reached for my neck, where the wound had been—where I had felt his fangs sink in. But my skin was smooth. Whole. As if nothing had ever pierced it.
My breath quickened.
This wasn’t normal. I wasn’t normal.
Werewolves healed fast. But not this fast.
My fingers curled against my skin. I had thought nothing of it before, but now? Now my own body felt unfamiliar.
What am I?
His silver eyes flickered to the carnage around us, to the torn bodies of creatures that had co for . Creatures I shouldn’t have been able to kill.
"You killed them." His voice was quiet, but absolute. "All of them."
My chest tightened. My pulse roared in my ears.
"What?" I gasped, the word escaping like a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
The world tilted slightly, my mind reeling.
I killed them?
How?
I searched my mories, grasping for any recollection of how I had survived, how I had fought. But there was only darkness. Flashes of movent. Pain.
Nothing made sense.
"I . . . I don’t rember." My voice shook as I tried to make sense of the chaos swirling inside . I felt fragnted, like a broken mirror where the pieces no longer fit.
His gaze darkened, sharpening with a mix of certainty and sothing else—sothing almost reverent. "I saw it," he murmured, his words heavy with truth. "I saw you."
The way he said it made my stomach tighten, my breath hitch.
There was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt.
He had seen . And yet, I had no mory of what he said he saw.
"But how?" My voice cracked. "I’m unshifted . . . I don’t even have a wolf. I’m weak. I’m—"
He took a step closer, cutting the space between us in an instant. Close enough that I could feel his presence wrapping around like a shadow.
"You’re not weak."
The conviction in his voice sent a tremor through . He said it like it was fact. Like he saw sothing in that I couldn’t.
Like he knew sothing I didn’t.
Silence stretched between us, thick.
Finally, he exhaled, his gaze softening. "Iris, right?"
I swallowed and nodded. It was the only thing I could do.
A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Co with ."
I blinked. "W-what?"
His expression didn’t change. There was no hesitation in his words, no uncertainty in his offer.
"From what I can see, you’re a rogue," he said, his voice steady, calm. "If you had a pack, you wouldn’t be out here alone. And rogue don’t survive out here alone." His silver eyes studied . "If you have nowhere else to go . . . then co with ."
My heart slamd against my ribs, uncertainty thick in my chest.
Go with him?
Was he insane?
He was a vampire. My natural enemy. A predator. A creature that was supposed to hunt , to tear apart, not offer shelter.
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