{IRIS}
The man's eyes flickered to mine, glowing a ghostly silver, pulling me 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 moment, the pain, the blood, the fear—all of it melted 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 something far more dangerous—fascination.
He tilted his head slightly, studying me, his silver eyes never leaving me. 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.
"Me?" His voice was deep, velvety, laced with a dark amusement that sent a shiver down my spine. He licked my blood from his lips. "I'm someone you shouldn't trust."
His words should have scared me. They should have sent me stumbling back, seeking escape.
But I didn't move.
I couldn't move.
Something about the way he said it—like a warning and an invitation all at once—stirred something deep inside me, something I didn't dare name.
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 name itself meant nothing. I felt stupid for introducing myself in this situation. I was sure that he wasn't asking.
He studied me, his gaze dipping lower for the briefest moment before returning to my face, lingering. And for the first time, something flickered in his expression—something soft, something unreadable.
Like recognition.
Like disbelief.
"You really don't know what you did here, do you?" His voice lowered, laced with something new—curiosity, perhaps even awe.
My brows knitted together. What I did?
I tried to recall the moments 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 demeanor unsettled me. Just moments ago, he had looked at me like I was prey, his hunger barely leashed, his control thin as a thread. And now?
Now, he was looking at me like I was something else entirely.
Like I was something 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 come for me. 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 me like a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
The world tilted slightly, my mind reeling.
I killed them?
How?
I searched my memories, grasping for any recollection of how I had survived, how I had fought. But there was only darkness. Flashes of movement. Pain.
Nothing made sense.
"I . . . I don't remember." My voice shook as I tried to make sense of the chaos swirling inside me. I felt fragmented, like a broken mirror where the pieces no longer fit.
His gaze darkened, sharpening with a mix of certainty and something else—something 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 me. And yet, I had no memory 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 me like a shadow.
"You're not weak."
The conviction in his voice sent a tremor through me. He said it like it was fact. Like he saw something in me that I couldn't.
Like he knew something 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. "Come with me."
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 me. "If you have nowhere else to go . . . then come with me."
My heart slammed 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 me, to tear me apart, not offer me shelter.