Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions Chapter 76

I feel the weight of Thane's presence as *he* kneels before *me*, with his face a perfect study in both tension and vulnerability. His hand is still clasped around mine, but I’m aware of every fraction of distance between us.

He’s also waiting. I can feel it in the stillness of the room, and in the way the air hangs thick with unsaid words. He’s offering me everything, but what good is it if I can’t take it?

I look over at Mike and Griffin as they stand before my bay windows like sentinels, Griffin having followed behind Thane when he pushed past Mike. Their eyes are locked on me with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe—they’re waiting, too. For me to make sense of this—of *him*. But, they’re also offering me protection, and perhaps even serving as my shields.

But that’s not what I need. Not anymore.

I slowly pull my hand from Thane’s, ignoring the sudden ache in my chest that follows the action. I straighten, shifting on the couch, with every inch of me painfully aware of the tension between us. The last few days have felt like a blur—blurred by passion, by confusion, and now by the knot of fear twisting in my stomach. I need answers, and I need them *now*.

My voice comes out quieter than I mean it to, almost like I’m trying to convince myself just as much as him. “I need answers, Thane. *Real* answers.”

He doesn't say anything at first, but the change in his demeanor is unmistakable. The way his shoulders tense and how his eyes flicker with something dark behind them is subtle, but it’s enough. Enough to make my heart race in a way I can’t control.

I don’t wait for him to speak. I can’t. I need to say it, even if it’s the last thing I want to know. “Back at the gala...in the bathroom...I overheard something.” I glance at Griffin, then at Mike, feeling their gazes on me like a weight. “Some women were talking about you.”

I pause for a beat, the words feeling like lead in my mouth—heavy and full of consequences. “They said you didn’t age. That you were...not normal.”

My following words tremble from my chest as I add, "One of them even said you might be a *vampire*." The word sounds almost absurd coming from my mouth. *A vampire*. It sounds like the punchline to a shitty joke. Like a fantasy someone made up to explain the impossible.

I glance at Thane, my throat tight. His face is unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes. Something I can’t name, but I can feel it deep down in my bones. It’s like a warning, or an instinct I haven’t learned how to trust fully yet. But it’s there. And it makes everything inside me stop moving for a moment.

I don’t look at Griffin or Mike right now. I can’t. I’m entirely focused on Thane and on the way the air shifts around him. “Is it true?” The question leaves my mouth without me even thinking about it, the words too fragile, yet too desperate to be left unspoken.

There’s a long moment of silence—too long—and then Thane’s lips tighten just the slightest bit as a muscle in his jaw flexes. It’s a small change, but it’s enough. And when I see it, something inside me freezes.

I feel it—the dread crawling up my spine and creeping like ice through my veins.

His gaze flickers from my face to where my hands are clasped in my lap, and that’s when I know. I *know* it’s true. He’s not answering, not yet, but everything about his posture screams the answer I was dreading.

And then, when he finally speaks, the words come slowly and weighed down, “It’s true.”

The two words land in the air with the force of a fucking wrecking ball, shattering everything around it into a million and one tiny pieces. My heart skips a beat, and for a split second, my lungs forget how to breathe.

A vampire. Thane Draeven is a goddamn vampire. *Shit on a swizzlestick!*

I don’t know what comes over me, but before I can stop myself, my body reacts before my brain has time to catch up. I start to crab-crawl backwards on the couch, my legs scrambling for purchase against the couch cushions. My palm stings afresh as I grab he back of the sofa for stability, but it barely registers as I push myself further away from him.

My back hits the opposite armrest, and I come to a stop as I gasp for air. My pulse is erratic, and my throat is dry and tight. It feels like the room is spinning, and everything I thought I understood has just crumbled around me.

A *vampire*. How could I have missed it?

Then a few moments of last weekend filter through my mind’s eye. The way he healed so fast. The way his eyes drastically change color depending on his mood. How fast he sometimes moved. How his abnormal strength seemed peculiar to me.

And yet, despite everything—despite how wrong it feels—there’s this part of me that doesn’t want to run—not yet, at least. The part of me that’s drawn to him, and to his mystery and danger. It’s terrifying and enticing all at once.

But right now? Now it feels like the ground beneath me has cracked open, and I’m falling through it at a mile a minute, falling into something I can’t control. Something that doesn’t make any sense. *I don’t know what to do with this.*

I’m not sure how long I stay like that, pressed up against the couch’s arm, with my breath coming out in shallow gasps, before I finally gather enough courage to look up. My eyes lock with Thane’s, and for the first time, there’s no wall between us. He’s not hiding from me, or lying by omission, and he’s certainly not pretending. He’s just...*here*. And vulnerable in a way I didn’t know he could be.

But the truth still echoes in my ears like a bomb going off.

A vampire.

I feel a mix of panic and confusion settle deep in my gut, making my head spin. And in a fresh wave of panic, I reach for the back of the couch again, intent on pushing even further away from him, but this time my grip falters, and whether it’s because of the pain there or my jelly-like limbs, I’m not quite sure.

I’m also shaking, but not from the cold. No. This is different. It’s because of the kind of fear that makes your legs go weak and your heart race faster than it *ever* should.

And I’m struggling to process it all at once.

And all I can do is stare at him, hoping for some kind of explanation. Hoping for something to pull me out of this tailspin, as the air between us feels thick with everything unsaid—with everything that now feels broken.

And as the silence continues to swallow me whole, I realize that the truth, no matter how it feels, doesn’t change anything.

But maybe, *just maybe*, it changes everything about how I *see* him.

And I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Not yet, at least.