Page 37 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

Ihaven’t stopped thinking about what Callum said.

“Because the second I saw you, I knew you’d ruin me if I let you.”

It keeps echoing, over and over, in the back of my head like a song I didn’t mean to memorize.

It wasn’t a compliment. Not exactly. But it wasn’t a threat either. It was something else. Something sharp and intimate andtruein a way I don’t know if I can explain.

Now I can’t unhear it.

I mean, what the hell does that even mean?

Why does someone likehim—quiet, calculating, carved out of stone—feel like I’m dangerous? He’s the one surrounded by secrets and scars and shadowed warning signs. He’s the one who smells like earth and cold metal and something ancient that never really got domesticated.

He’s not my problem.

I scrub a hand down my face and pace across my room like it’ll help clear my head. It doesn’t.

Maybe I need to see Stefan. Ground myself. He’s my boyfriend. Myperson. At least, he used to be.

So I throw on jeans and a jacket, ignore the way my senses still feel too sharp, and head out. Seeing him will help things be put back in perspective. The way they’re supposed to be.

When I get there,Stefan opens the door like he’s been waiting.

“Hey,” he says, and he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You ghosted again.”

“I know,” I say, stepping inside. “I’m sorry.”

The apartment smells like laundry detergent and his cologne. Familiar and safe. Things I know.

But right now it all feels foreign.

He watches me for a second like he’s debating what version of me is going to show up today. Then he gestures toward the couch.

I sit. He doesn’t. He leans against the wall, arms crossed.

“You’ve been off,” he says. “For a while now.”

“I’ve had a lot going on.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

The question lands harder than it should. Not because it’s unfair—because itisn’t. But because I have no way to answer it without breaking everything between us into pieces I won’t be able to glue back together. He knows it’s more than just my sister, but I can’t give him any other answers than that.

“I’ve been dealing with family stuff,” I say. “Adora. My dad. It’s complicated.”

“You know, I can help with that, like I used to. You barely talk to me anymore.”

“I’m talking now.”

“Barely.”

I suck in a sharp breath, trying not to lose it.

This is what I wanted, right? To feel normal. To remember what it was likebefore. Before the bite. Before the shift. Before Callum and his sharp eyes and low voice and the way my whole body feels like it’s tuned to his frequency. I don’t know why I’m so short with him lately, it’s not his fault I’m…this.

Stefan should be my anchor.

So why do I feel like I’mlyingjust by being here?

---