J a c q u e s

I walked Crystal across the road, just in case her date decided to come back and finish what he started. Guys like that rarely went quietly. I kept my steps slow, scanning the street.

Behind me, Christie was curled up in the back seat, red curls spilling down like she'd stepped out of a damn renaissance painting. All soft curves and sad doe eyes. She looked holy, but there was nothing sacred about the way she made my blood thrum.

I took a breath, tried to bank the heat curling low in my gut.

"Your girlfriend's cute," Crystal smiled, catching the way I stared at Christie.

"My wife," I said, correcting her a little too quick. Didn't matter—it felt good saying it. Solid. "We just got married."

"Wait," she muttered, squinting at the car. "Y'know, she reminds me of my cousin Cherry. They both got that same wild red hair."

"You gonna be alright?" I asked, glancing at the bruise purpling along her cheekbone.

"I been worse." She gave me a lopsided grin that didn't reach her eyes.

I nodded, jaw tight. I should've killed that guy out cold. Men like him didn't stop—not until someone made them.

I closed my eyes for a second, and there it was again—my mother on the floor, lip split, blouse torn, trembling. I opened them fast, pushed the memory down where it belonged.

"If he comes back," I said, "call the cops. Or yell. I'll be around."

Crystal's smile softened into something sad. "You're alright, you know that?"

We stood there for a moment while the town sat quiet around us. Most of the shops were shut for good, windows boarded or empty. A neon sign buzzed across the street, struggling to stay lit. The town looked to be in a downward slump.

Crystal's eyes suddenly caught on something. A little girl was walking down the other side of the road—barefoot, maybe eight—hair tangled, dragging a broken backpack behind her. Crystal swore under her breath.

"I gotta go," she muttered, already moving.

Maybe the kid was family. Maybe not.

I watched her walk off and then turned back to the car. I needed to get back to Christie.

I jogged across the street and opened the passenger door and leaned down. "Hey."

She didn't look at me. Just kept staring at her hands, knuckles tight, fingers twisting like they were waiting for a verdict. Like she expected some kind of punishment.

Fuck. She probably thought I was angry with her for nearly losing it with Crystal.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice so small it killed me.

I crouched down beside the open door, slipped my hand into hers. Her fingers were ice cold.

"For what, baby?"

"Crystal's blood. I—I nearly lost control. I could've..." Her throat bobbed. "I—"

"Nope." I cut her off, firm. "You stopped yourself. That's what matters. No harm, no foul, right?"

She nodded, but it was the kind of nod people give when they're trying to make you feel better, not because they believe it. Her eyes were far away, glazed with shame she had no right to feel.

I tugged gently on her hand, drawing her focus back to me. "C'mon. Let's grab a room, sleep it off."

She followed, silent and slow, like she was walking through fog. I booked us in. It was a cheap roadside motel, nothing fancy. The receptionist looked half-asleep, didn't ask questions. Christie lingered behind me, eyes fixed on the desk clerk's throat. Her lips parted, just a fraction, and I gently nudged her back with my elbow.

Our room was on the ground floor, view of a cracked parking lot and a flickering neon vacancy sign. The door creaked like it was trying to warn us off.

Once inside, I flicked on the light, the dim yellow glow making everything look a little more haunted than it probably was.

"You hungry?" I asked, tossing the key on the nightstand.

Christie chewed her lip, avoiding my gaze. "My mom made me fast for a few days... for the dress. I know I already—tonight—but..."

"You need more blood," I finished for her.

She gave a slow, guilty nod.

I kicked the door shut and dropped onto the edge of the bed, patting my neck. "Then come drink."

Even just saying it, heat curled through me. The thought of her soft lips, that little hum she makes when she drinks—it was already getting to me.

But she shook her head, stubborn. "I already drank from you today. I can't do it again. You'll get weak."

I stood up, closing the space between us. She tilted her head back to look up at me, her red hair catching the light. Her head barely reached my shoulder. She was all curves and soft lines, wrapped in guilt and innocence.

"I'm a big boy," I said, smirking. "Got plenty to spare."

She glanced at the door. "Maybe I should try hunting," she said, voice shaky. "There were some men at the gas station. I could... try hypnotising one of them—"

The words barely left her mouth before something inside me snapped. I stepped forward, wrapped my arms around her waist, and pulled her flush against me. Her body moulded to mine perfectly—like she was made to fit there.

I leaned down, lips brushing her ear. My voice dropped to something rough and possessive. "You only drink from me. You got that?"

Her eyes flicked up to mine. She nodded, barely a whisper. "Okay."

I didn't let her go. Instead, I walked us backward until the backs of my legs hit the mattress, and then I dropped, pulling her down with me.

She squeaked, tried to push herself up. But I wasn't having it. I banded my arms around her, holding her tight on top of me.

"Jacques," she whined, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "What are you doing?"

"Playing with my pretty little wife," I said, grinning like the devil. "You're mine now, sweetheart. You don't get to run off trying to bite greasy strangers."

Her eyes were wide, pupils blown, cheeks flushed.

Her breath hitched, and for a second I thought she might pull away. But instead, she settled her weight over my hips, her knees bracketing my thighs. Her fingers curled against my chest like she didn't trust herself not to fall.

"I don't want to hurt you," she murmured.

"You won't," I said. "Now drink, baby."

She leaned in, warm breath brushing my neck before her lips touched skin. Soft. Hesitant. The scrape of her fangs made me inhale sharply—and then she bit.

Pleasure flared white-hot and sudden. My back arched, hips jerking beneath her as her mouth latched on. It wasn't just the blood. It was the bond, the connection, the raw damn need in the way she drank. I slid my hands up her thighs, pushing her dress higher. Velvet-soft skin under my palms.

Christie made a low sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Her body shifted, pressing tighter against mine, her hips rolling just once. Testing. And fuck me, I almost lost it.

"That's it," I groaned, slipping a hand under her dress, fingers skating along the curve of her ass. "Ride it out, sweetheart."

She moved again, grinding down with more pressure. She was trembling. So was I. My pulse was thudding too hard, too fast, each pull of her mouth drawing more than just blood—it felt like she was pulling the soul out of me in pieces, and I was letting her.

"Christie..." I groaned, but my voice was already going slack.

Damn she was sucking me dry and I didn't mind one bit.

She whimpered again, mouth still sealed to my neck, her tongue flicking over my pulse.

Heat spiked, coiling low in my stomach, rising up so fast it made my vision blur. My fingers dug into her thighs as I tried to hold onto reality, but I could already feel the strength draining from my limbs.

"Hey," I rasped, lightheaded now. "That's enough—"

But she didn't stop. She was too lost in the moment,

My heart stuttered.

And then—

Everything tipped sideways. The room spun, and my arms went slack around her.

Darkness closed in like a curtain being pulled.

My last thought, as the world blinked out, the goddamn irony of it all—I didn't even get to sleep with my wife.