(BLUE'S POV)
"Unbelievable, in all my years... " I muttered to myself, half in disbelief, half in frustration.
I shifted slightly, adjusting him in my arms, more careful this time—more controlled.
"You're sleeping," I added under my breath, almost accusingly, like that somehow made it his fault. "You're literally asleep and I'm—"
I stopped myself.
No.
No, we were not finishing that sentence.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to calm down, to breathe, to think like someone who had lived for centuries and not like some reckless, hormonal idiot.
Slowly, carefully, I loosened my grip just enough to keep him comfortable without pulling him any closer than necessary.
It took effort. More than I wanted to admit. But eventually… eventually, the edge dulled just enough.
Enough for me to move. Enough for me to carry him inside.
I unlocked the door with great effort; and the moment I stepped into the house with him still in my arms, something shifted.
It was subtle. But there it was there.
It was like the walls themselves had been holding their breath all this time…
And had finally decided to let it go.
I closed the door quietly behind me, careful not to let it make a sound, and adjusted my hold on Mason almost without thinking. My arms tightened around him just a little, pulling him closer to my chest.
I started toward the stairs, slow… very slow, each step deliberate, controlled. I was paying way too much attention to something as simple as walking, it was very ridiculous especially for a vampire but I couldn't help it. It felt like if I moved wrong—too fast, too careless—I might ruin this.
Or worse…
Wake him.
And I was absolutely not ready for the consequences of that action yet.
Not when he didn't know. Not when he hadn't seen me—really seen me. Not the version of me I let the world look at. Not the truth.
My grip tightened slightly at the thought, and I exhaled under my breath, I didn't need to but I did anyway, forcing myself to relax before I accidentally crushed him in my arms like some kind of overprotective idiot.
"Relax," I muttered softly to myself, almost embarrassed. "You're acting insane."
I reached my room and didn't pause this time. The door opened smoothly, quietly, like it had been waiting for me.
For us.
The space inside was exactly as it had always been. Large. Clean. Minimal. Cold.
It didn't look like a place someone actually lived in. It looked… staged. Untouched. Like a picture in a magazine no one ever flipped through twice.
And right in the center of it stood the bed. Big enough to feel ridiculous.
Too wide. Too perfect. Too empty.
For centuries, it had been nothing but a pointless thing sitting there. Vampires don't sleep. We don't get tired. We don't need comfort, don't need air or softness, don't need… any of this.
And yet I had kept it.
Maintained it.
Replaced it. Upgraded it. Carried it through time with me like it meant something.
Like I was waiting.
For what, I never really understood.
Until now.
My chest did something strange—tight, almost aching—and I looked down at him in my arms.
Oh.
Right.
For him.
I walked over slowly, very aware of everything—his weight against me, the warmth of him, the way his head rested so easily near my shoulder like it belonged there.
Carefully—more carefully than I had done anything in a long time—I lowered him onto the bed.
It felt… weirdly important.
Like I had to get it right.
The second he touched the mattress, he moved. Not fully awake, not even close, just… instinctive. He shifted onto his side, curling in slightly, one hand dragging the blanket toward himself like he'd done it a thousand times before.
Like he trusted the space already. Like he felt safe.
That did something to me. Something quiet, but deep. I just… stood there for a second. Okay, maybe more than a second. Just watching him.
Taking him in like if I looked away for too long, he might disappear and I'd wake up back in that same empty routine I'd lived in for centuries.
Every little thing about him felt… unreal. The way his breathing evened out again. The way his hair fell across his face. The soft crease between his brows like he was dreaming about something he didn't quite understand.
Nine hundred years of searching without knowing I was searching. Faces that blurred together. Voices that never stayed. People that never felt right.
And now, he was here. In my room. In my bed.
I let out a quiet breath, almost shaky, and sat down beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under my weight.
"Don't be weird," I whispered under my breath, even though I was already being very weird.
Slowly, like I might scare him somehow, I reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from his face.
My fingers lingered. I swallowed, my gaze tracing over his features again, softer this time.
"Mason," I said quietly, the name barely leaving my lips.
Heck, even saying it felt… different.
His eyelashes fluttered, just a little, and then I heard, "…Blue?"
My entire body went still.