In the bedroom, Selene stirred as sunlight filtered through the thin curtains and settled across her face in a pale golden wash.
Her eyes opened slowly, instinct already bracing for the familiar burn. For centuries, daylight had meant agony—skin blistering, nerves screaming, death waiting in every ray.
But there was no pain.
She remained still for a moment, testing it, waiting for the delayed reaction that always came.
Nothing.
A faint crease formed between her brows as she pushed herself upright. Her hand went immediately to her shoulder—the place where the ultraviolet round had struck.
The wound was gone.
Completely healed, as though it had never existed.
Her gaze shifted toward the window where the morning light illuminated the room in soft amber tones. The sunlight spilled freely over the bed, over the floorboards, over her skin. She stood carefully and stepped into it.
The light touched her arm.
Still nothing.
No smoke curling from her flesh. No scent of burning. Only warmth—real warmth, gentle and almost… pleasant.
That should not be possible.
Since her transformation, sunlight had been an absolute rule of her existence. It was not a weakness one overcame. It was a boundary one obeyed.
Selene's thoughts sharpened, assembling the fragments of memory. The chase. The crash. The ultraviolet bullet tearing through her bloodstream. The searing internal burn.
Then him.
The red eyes. The strange power that was neither Lycan nor vampire.
She remembered being held. Remembered the metallic taste flooding her mouth. His blood.
And the kiss.
She lifted her fingers to her lips without fully realizing it. There had been blood—his blood—and something in it had changed her. She could feel it now beneath her skin, a steady current of strength humming through her veins.
Then the door opened, and the man in question stepped inside.
"Oh. You're awake," Ethan said, tone easy but his eyes quickly scanning her. "Do you feel anything strange? Different?"
Selene remained seated on the bed, posture composed, gaze steady on him.
What exactly was this man's deal?
Why had he saved her?
They had only met the night before.
"What are you?" she asked, her tone different from before—no longer defensive, but genuinely curious, driven by a need to understand what this man truly was.
Ethan's mouth curved slightly. "Didn't I tell you? Your friendly neighborhood vampire."
Her expression didn't change, but her eyes moved over him more carefully this time. She could tell he was a vampire—of that she was certain—but not the kind she knew.
"Why did you save me?" she asked again, quieter now.
Ethan tilted his head, considering her. "I have many reasons," he said lightly. "But if I say them out loud, I'm absolutely certain they'll ruin whatever opinion you currently have of me."
His tone was teasing — but not entirely.
Because saying your face, your lethal aura, and yes… wanting to get into your pants would absolutely destroy whatever fragile neutrality she still had toward him.
"So," he continued, slipping his hands into his pockets, "why don't we ignore that part for now… and go on a date? It must've been centuries since you've wandered around in daylight."
***
In the crowded streets of Budapest, they walked side by side without touching. Even so, they drew attention—a striking pair who turned heads without trying, their presence alone enough to stand out in the flow of the city.
"What is your name?"
"Ethan Corvin."
"Have we met before?"
"No."
That answer didn't satisfy her. She slowed her steps just enough to force him to notice.
"Then how do you know my name?"
Ethan glanced at her briefly.
"I somehow know many things," he said calmly, "and among them, I know a few things about you."
"That wasn't my question."
A faint smile touched his mouth. "You want the honest version?"
Selene looked at him as if the question itself was unnecessary—her expression making it clear she had no interest in anything else.
"It's a secret," Ethan said. "But I know more than your name. I know what the Lycans took from you. I know why you still hunt like you have something left to prove."
Selene stopped walking and turned to face him, her expression growing more serious, the lightness from moments ago completely gone.
"You know nothing about me."
"Maybe," Ethan replied calmly, meeting her gaze without hesitation. "But you didn't deny it."
Her eyes sharpened.
"There's something you need to know," he continued, his tone steady but deliberate. "The reason your family is dead."
"The reason?" Selene's voice tightened. "The Lycans slaughtered them. That's the reason."
"That's what you were told," Ethan said. "You were kept in the dark. There was a larger conspiracy behind it—something you were never meant to discover."
Selene didn't respond, but her stare didn't waver.
"Do you remember your father working on something when you were a child?" Ethan asked. "Something important. Hidden. A place he was building in secret."
A flicker of memory crossed her face. She remembered. Late nights. Quiet conversations. Her father saying it was important.
"Yes," she admitted carefully.
"That is what caused your entire family to be wiped out. And as for why you survived… there's a very big reason for that," Ethan said calmly.
He wasn't telling her out of kindness. He was planting something inside her—doubt, suspicion, anger. A seed. One that would grow if he fed it carefully. And when it finally bloomed, it would turn into something sharp enough to aim at Victor.
Watching that happen would be very satisfying.
Her jaw clenched.
"So you're saying the Lycans didn't kill my family?" she asked, and in the same motion she stepped forward and slammed him against the wall.
"Yep," Ethan answered evenly, unshaken. "And the people responsible are still alive. Still in power."
Her face was inches from his now, her eyes cold and dangerous.
"Who?" she demanded. "And you'd better not be playing games with me."
"I'm not," Ethan said quietly, holding her gaze without flinching.
She studied him, weighing his words carefully. If he was telling the truth, then everything she believed about that night had been built on a lie, and whoever had orchestrated it would pay for it.
If it was a lie… well, she would probably just let him go with a warning and pretend she hadn't almost taken him seriously.
*****
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