Kimi's POV
The soft brush of her fingers, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, sent a shiver racing down my spine. My heart hammered erratically against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat I couldn't control. I couldn't explain the sudden longing blossoming in my chest—this fierce, unnameable desire for her touch.
"Shall we?" she asked, her voice pulling me back from the edge of a dream.
"Yeah," I managed, breathy and unsure, and we started toward the park. Her hand slipped into mine—a spark leapt between our skin—and my heart took flight. The warmth of her grip was intoxicating, a steady weight that anchored me in the moment.
The park was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of streetlamps and the distant hum of night traffic.
"We're here," I said, glancing at her, nerves fluttering in my stomach.
We settled onto a bench, and conversation flowed easily, like a gentle current. But then a question bubbled up, a desperate need clawing to be voiced.
"Were you at my ceremony?" I asked, eyes fixed on her face, searching for any hint, any clue.
"Yeah, I was. Your parents and sister were at mine, too. But I guess you didn't realize you were a vampire until the ceremony." The casual way she revealed it stunned me—my family had witnessed her transformation. It added another layer to the mystery that clung to her.
"Why do you have a serpent tattoo?" I whispered, voice low.
"Once you become a vampire, you gain one—except for your family." Her tone was matter-of-fact, but I found myself wondering what the tattoo truly meant.
"When did you first realize you were a vampire?" I echoed, driven by a need to understand.
"From the age of five, I realized I was different from other children. At first, I struggled with it, but now I embrace it." Her words were carefully chosen, yet the sadness lingering in her voice—the subtle ache in her eyes—felt like a wound covered by cold steel.
"How would you define love?" I asked, wanting to shift the weight of the conversation, the undercurrent of melancholy making me uneasy.
"Love is a sign of weakness," she declared, eyes sharp and unyielding. "It can feel like a trap. Emotions are fleeting. One moment I may feel affection for someone, but the next, their presence overwhelms me. To me, love doesn't exist—only desire, passion, and the pursuit of power."
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, shattering whatever fragile hope had begun to bloom within me.
I gasped.
Tears pricked my eyes. Absurd as it was—I'd only known her three days—this felt like the deepest betrayal. Why did her cynicism wound me so? It was as if she was speaking directly to me, rejecting something I hadn't even named yet.
Wait. Love? Could this be love?
"How would you define love?" she asked, pulling me back to the present, her eyes locked on mine.
"Love..." I began, voice barely a whisper. "I'd say it's care, affection, kindness. But ultimately, love is the willingness to endure suffering for someone else's sake. It's making sure the person you cherish never sheds a tear because of you. Love has the power to heal wounds. It means sharing someone else's burdens as if they were your own. Love holds joy, sorrow, affection, desire, passion, and kindness. It's the readiness to do anything to ease the pain of the one you love."
I looked at her—at Charlotte—and the tears shimmering in her eyes mirrored the storm raging inside me. Her gaze was turbulent—a clash of sorrow, anguish, and anger—revealing a hidden pain she fiercely guarded.
A wave of unease, sharp and cold as a knife, sliced through me. I desperately wanted to reach out, to take away whatever darkness clung to her, to bear her burdens for her.
Did I... could I possibly be falling for her?
The thought slammed into me with the force of a tidal wave—thrilling and terrifying all at once. It was a leap off a cliff into darkness—unknown, but impossible to resist.