Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions novel Chapter 97

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.”

1 stiften. 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,” 1 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 This 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 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 1 feel like I’m the subject of some unspoken examination. I catch my breath as be 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.

“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.”

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.

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