Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions Chapter 85

The sun beats down on the bustling farmer’s market, casting a warm glow over everything—multitudes of flowers in vibrant colors, the scent of various fresh produce, and the hum of a hundred conversations mingling in the air. The smell of fresh earth and growing things fills my senses—a small reprieve from the chaotic whirlpool of thoughts that has been plaguing me.

I’ve spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours trying to make sense of his bite, this inexplicable pull between us, and the way my body reacts to Thane on a visceral level, and yet *nothing* still makes any sense.

I glance at him from the corner of my eye, and the reality of his presence hits me again. He’s walking beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body and the weight of his attention. And even though he doesn't speak much, and his focus is on the market around us, I can feel his gaze on me every so often. His silence is a constant reminder of the tension between us—unspoken, but undeniably there.

I try to ground myself in the mundane, focusing on the rows of fresh flowers in front of me at the stall I’m standing at, their petals soft and bright. The market should be a place of normalcy, but there’s no escaping the pull of Thane Draeven at my side. Every brush of his sleeve against mine, and every step we take side-by-side, makes me hyper-aware of how much I want to push him away, while wanting him close at the same time.

For a moment, I look away and focus on the honey stall two spots up ahead. Thane, as usual, is calm and collected beside me, his eyes scanning the scene, but I can’t ignore the way my heartbeat quickens whenever he’s close. It’s like my body has betrayed me, responding to him in ways I can’t control.

The truth, his fangs sinking into my wrist, the undeniable pull of whatever *this* is between us—it all flashes through my mind in disjointed fragments. I hate it. I hate how it’s stirring something inside me that I don’t want to feel.

But I can’t ignore the truth either. Not when my body practically *aches* for him. It’s like a constant tug at the back of my mind, and the more I try to push it away, the stronger it becomes.

The heat between us is palpable, but I’m trying, so damn hard, to keep a wall up between us. I won’t let him get close. Not again. Not yet. Not until I have a clearer understanding of who he is, *what* he is, and what this connection between us means.

I stop in front of another stall, pretending to be interested in the assortment of colorful jars of honey stacked in neat rows. Thane doesn’t speak, but I feel his presence shift to just behind my right shoulder. I instinctively glance at him, but I don’t expect what happens next...

He reaches out, and with a single finger, he brushes against my cheek in a small, almost intimate motion that sends a shiver down my spine. He then tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, and even though the action is simple and natural, it feels *far* too personal for why I’m trying to keep him at arm's length.

I look up at him, expecting a smirk or a soft chuckle, but his face is impassive and unreadable. Still, the moment between us feels charged, and I can’t ignore how it lingers.

We move to the next stall, and Thane places his hand lightly at the small of my back as we weave through the crowd, and the gesture feels possessive, like he’s claiming me in a way I’m not prepared for.

The move also causes my heart to hammer in my chest, but I refuse to let myself acknowledge the pull of his slight touch. I can’t stop myself from noticing how his hand fits at the curve of my back, though, and how his fingers seem to mold against the delicate arch of my spine. I’m so painfully aware of every inch of him near me, and every breath he takes, that it’s maddening.

I want to push him away. I want to scream at him to stop. But a part of me is greedy for it, and greedy for the warmth that seeps into my bones from his touch. I want to feel safe, to let him in, but I can’t. Not yet. Not while I’m still untangling the mess in my head.

At another flower stand, I stop to admire a bouquet of bright yellow daisies, but as I reach out to touch the soft-looking petals, I feel him behind me again. His presence is even closer this time, with his chest brushing against my back as he leans in slightly. I can hear his breath against my ear, and the sensation makes my pulse race erratically.

I don’t look up at him, but I can feel him, *feel* the heat of his gaze. It’s too much. His proximity, his words from last night, this pull between us—it’s suffocating, and yet I don’t know how to escape it.

He leans in even closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear as he speaks, his voice a low murmur, “Those are pretty. But they hold no candle to your beauty.”

I stiffen. The words are so casual, but the way he says them—so deliberately and confidently—sends a flush to my cheeks.

Trying to shake off the tension that’s slowly creeping up my spine, I glance over at a stand with lavender-scented soaps shaped like farm animals. I can’t help it, and a laugh bubbles up unexpectedly. “I think that cow-shaped soap might just change my life,” I quip, half-laughing to myself, as I try to diffuse the situation.

Thane’s lips twitch at the corners, and for a moment, I think I might’ve cracked his stoic exterior. He doesn’t speak, but I notice the slight shift in his expression. A hint of amusement, maybe. Or maybe it’s just a trick of the light.

For a moment, it feels like the weight of the world lifts just a fraction, and I’m reminded of how *normal* this moment feels. For just a second, I’m not trapped in the world of vampires, blood, and confusion. I’m just Harley. And it’s nice.

As we reach a quieter corner of the market where the crowd is thinning out, Thane comes to a standstill beside me, and as his presence presses in on me, I realize I’m barely holding it together. He’s here, he’s real, and I’m still struggling to make sense of the storm he’s causing inside me.

He watches me closely, his vibrant blue eyes scanning my face, and I feel like I’m the subject of some unspoken examination. I catch my breath as he steps in just a little closer, his body almost touching mine as we stand in this peaceful corner of chaos. I try not to focus on how warm he feels next to me, or how his very presence seems to send my pulse into overdrive. It’s too much, and yet, I can’t seem to push him away.

“Where to next?” His voice is a quiet question with a hint of something unreadable in his tone.

I glance up at him, my lips curling into a sly grin as I take a deep breath, attempting to clear the fog in my head. I want to push him, keep him at arm’s length, but I’m also enjoying this little game between us.

"Now, my dear Mr. Draeven," I say, my voice taking on a playful tone, "I think it’s time I educate you in the culinary experience that is market food."

His brow furrows slightly, confusion and intrigue dancing in his eyes. “Market food?”

I nod slowly, relishing the chance to regain some control of the situation. “Oh, yes. Prepare yourself for the wonders of hot dogs, pretzels, and—if you're lucky—some deep-fried goodness. I’ll teach you the art of the perfect street food. You might just find it life-changing.”

His lips twitch with the faintest smile, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s actually looking forward to whatever ridiculous thing I’m about to drag him into. But then, just like that, he nods, his expression unreadable but full of intent.

“Lead the way, then,” he says with a tone that holds just enough challenge in it to make me smile.

With a wink and a smirk, I say, "Consider yourself warned."

As I turn on my heel and lead him back into the depths of the energetic market, I can feel the pull between us once again. Only, with every passing minute, it’s becoming stronger and sharper—like a thread pulling me in and not letting go. But for now, I push it aside. I need this—this moment of escape. I need to focus on something other than the storm inside me, the mess of emotions, and the intensity of everything that’s happened.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll teach Thane Draeven how to appreciate the simple pleasures of street food.