Chapter 3: Midnight Cravings and Close Calls

That night, I lay in bed, unable to sleep. My stomach growled. Hunger gnawed at my insides.

I hadn’t eaten dinner. The loss of my blood pack haunted me—a dull ache in my chest.

So hungry. The craving twisted in my gut—a physical pain.

Caleb was asleep across from me. His breathing slow, steady. The rise and fall of his chest hypnotic in the moonlight.

Vampires have great night vision. I could see everything—the way his lashes rested on his cheeks, the faint scar on his jaw.

His eyes were closed, so I stared. Shameless. My gaze lingered on his arm, veins pulsing beneath the skin.

I was so hungry my breathing turned ragged, my face flushed, my body trembling. The need was overwhelming.

So thirsty. Wanted to lick. Wanted to bite. The words looped in my head—a mantra.

Like I was possessed, I climbed onto his bed. Slow, careful. My heart hammered.

If he was asleep, I could sneak just one lick. Just enough to take the edge off.

I stared at his sleeping face, leaned in. His skin was warm. The scent of his blood—intoxicating.

Just as I was about to lick his neck…

In the darkness, his eyes snapped open. I froze—caught like a deer in headlights.

A deep voice above me: “Little pervert, what do you think you’re doing?” Low, dangerous. But there was a hint of amusement.

Busted. My mind raced for an excuse, but I knew none would save me.

I tried to escape, but Caleb grabbed my neck, slammed me onto the bed. His grip was unyielding.

His low voice in my ear. “Up in the middle of the night, climbing into my bed—where’d you get the nerve?” Hot breath. A challenge.

I caved instantly. “My bad.” Small, defeated.

But up close, the scent on Caleb was even stronger. Dizzying. Sweet.

The sound of blood rushing through his veins drove me crazy. Hunger took over. I licked my lips. “Caleb, can I lick you?”

He cursed under his breath. “Little pervert.” Gruff, but his grip loosened.

He raised his fist. I braced for the hit, hugged my head in panic.

But the pain never came. He punched the bed instead, the mattress jolting.

Then he grabbed my shoulders, shoved me under his covers. Pinned me down. Solid. Immovable.

A deep, husky voice above me: “Say something like that again and I’ll beat you up. Now sleep.” A command. But there was a strange tenderness beneath it.

…

My face pressed against his muscles, drooling with hunger. The scent was overwhelming. I bit my lip to keep from moaning.

No way I could sleep. My mind spun—hunger and confusion, fear and desire blurring together.

Until I heard his steady breathing. The rhythm soothed me, lulling me into a strange, half-awake trance.

I couldn’t hold back. I licked him. The taste—electric. Shivers down my spine.

So good. I wanted more, but forced myself to stop. Afraid of waking him.

Afraid of waking Caleb, I didn’t dare bite. I just licked his chest, savoring every second.

In the dark, Caleb’s eyelids twitched. I froze. Heart pounding. But he didn’t open his eyes.

In the morning, I felt something pressing against me. Cold. Hard. Unmistakable.

Realization hit. My face went pale. A hunter’s silver gun, pointed right at my chest.

All I did was lick him. So why was Caleb pressing a hunter’s silver gun against me? My mind raced.

And how was he so alert—sleeping with a gun in bed? Was he always this on edge, or just with me?

Vampires have a primal fear of a hunter’s gun. The metal hummed with danger—promising pain and death.

I trembled. Every instinct screamed run, but I forced myself to stay still.

Carefully, I edged away from the muzzle, got out of bed, and let out a long sigh. My heart hammered, but I was alive. For now.

Not easy, but I survived another day. Every sunrise was a victory.