Page 43 of Bite Marks & Broken Hearts

I blinked, caught off guard by his enthusiasm. “Really?” That seemed steep. “I know nothing about boats.” I knew I’d travelled to England on a ship, hundreds of years ago, but that was mostly from my diaries, not a concrete memory.

“Nothing? Well, you see that…” Flynn’s voice washed over me like waves against the shore as he explained the intricacies of navigation systems and hull designs. His hands moved animatedly, painting pictures inthe air as he spoke. The marina lights caught in his hair, turning the messy strands to silver, while shadows danced across his face.

“—and see how the stern swoops down? That’s because—”

“Mmm?” I leaned against the railing beside him, closer than was strictly necessary.

The excitement radiating from him was intoxicating. His whole being seemed to light up, and I found myself captivated not by the boats, but by the way his eyes sparkled when he described their features. The slight Irish lilt in his voice grew stronger with his enthusiasm, and my chest ached with a warmth I thought I’d buried long ago.

“—which means you can handle pretty much any weather—” He paused mid-gesture, his hand dropping. “God, I’m sorry. I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?”

“Not at all.” I shifted to face him properly. “It’s delightful to see someone so passionate about something.”

“But you haven’t understood a word I’ve said.”

“That’s irrelevant.” I smiled, hoping to ease his sudden self-consciousness. “I may not follow the technical details, but I understand the feeling behind them. The way you describe these boats… it’s like poetry.”

Flynn ducked his head. “Anyway… I must say, I won’t miss cleaning the decks with sand and oil each summer. Though nothing beats the satisfaction when you’re all done and it’s gleaming.”

“So, you didn’t leave Braymore to get away from all the boats?” I said it with a jesting tone, but in truth, I found myself more and more curious about Flynn and where he’d come from.

Flynn’s smile turned wistful. “The boats were never the problem.” He leaned against the railing, gazing out across the dark water. “Being out at sea… There’s nothing like it. The way the world just opens up around you. No walls, no boundaries. Just endless horizon in every direction.” His voice took on a dreamy quality. “Sometimes, when the weather’s perfect and you catch the wind just right, it feels like you could sail forever.”

An endless abyss sounded fairly horrific to me, but I appreciated his passion.

“But…” He trailed off, shoulders tensing. “Some things happened back home. All at once. And I needed to get away. Quickly.”

The sharp buzz of his phone cut through the peaceful atmosphere. Flynn pulled it from his pocket, grimacing at the screen before silencing it.

“They all keep calling me about it, actually.” He shoved the phone back into his jacket. “I just can’t bring myself to deal with it. I know that makes me a coward, running away like this.”

“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended, and Flynn startled slightly. I softened my tone. “Running away and choosing to remove yourself from a harmful situation are very different things.”

God knows I’d done enough running in my centuries of existence to recognise the difference.

“I didn’t say it was a harmful situation,” Flynn said carefully, gaze locked onto mine. The marina’s lights caught the vulnerability in his eyes before he could mask it, like moonlight breaking through storm clouds.

“You didn’t need to.” I could tell from the tight set of his jaw whenever his reason for moving came up. “And sometimes distance is exactly what you need to heal. There’s nothing cowardly about protecting yourself.”

Flynn’s eyes met mine, searching. Whatever he found there made his shoulders relax slightly.

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“Perhaps.” I offered him a small smile. “But we’re talking about you right now.”

Eyes widening, Flynn stepped towards me, and his scent hit me like a tidal wave. The cold night air had chilled his skin, but his gloriously warm blood still sang beneath the surface, sugar-sweet and tempting. My fangs ached. I gripped the railing harder, willing myself to stay perfectly still.

“Well, I want to hear more about you,” Flynn said, moving closer still.

My body threatened to betray me, threatened to lean towards him like a flower to the sun.

Panic clawed at my chest. What had I been thinking, bringing him here? The setting that bordered on romantic, the intimate conversation… I’d created the perfect atmosphere, planting more seeds in Flynn’s head for something that could never be.

The metal railing creaked under my grip. I forced my fingers to relax before I left dents in it.

This was selfish. Cruel to him, but also to myself, getting closer to him when our orbits were so temporarily aligned.

But it was hard to remember that when Flynn’s proximity sent electricity crackling across my skin. His warmth radiated towards me like a beacon in the darkness. My gaze dropped to Flynn’s lips, and centuries-old hunger stirred deep in my gut. Not just for blood, but for connection. For touch.

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