Simon stepped into the foyer of his mansion, his steps quick and heavy. The house was unusually silent, and the faint trace of Stella's scent was barely noticeable. He didn't bother calling out for her or checking the rooms—he already knew she wasn't there.
His jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists at his sides. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath. She had escaped.
Suppressing the surge of anger threatening to explode, Simon stormed into his office and activated the security system. He scanned through the live feed from the cameras scattered across the island, his movements calculated yet frantic. His crimson eyes narrowed as he replayed footage of her movements. She had crossed the garden, jumped the fence, and ventured into the market.
Simon smirked, though there was no humor in it. "Clever, Stella," he murmured, his tone laced with equal parts admiration and irritation. But she had underestimated him. This was his island. No one escaped Simon Winchester—not even her.
In a blur of motion, he left the office. Using his vampire speed, he darted through the night, the wind roaring in his ears. He moved like a shadow, faster than any mortal eye could follow, his destination clear: the market.
As he ran, his mind raced alongside him. His thirst had been sated earlier, but the burn in his veins now had nothing to do with hunger. It was rage, yes, but there was something more. He couldn't let her leave. He wouldn't. She belonged to him, whether she accepted it or not.
Within moments, Simon reached the outskirts of the bustling market. He slowed down, blending into the crowd with ease. His sharp gaze swept over the scene, scanning every corner, every shadow, searching for her.
The hunt had begun.
On the boat, the tension thickened.
"A mermaid," one of the men whispered, holding up a shimmering red pearl that glowed faintly in the moonlight. "We just hit the jackpot."
Stella's heart sank as her eyes darted to her leg. Blood trickled down from the wound she'd washed earlier, staining the deck with betrayal. She silently cursed her carelessness, realizing too late that her blood had given her away. The predatory glint in their eyes told her everything she needed to know—she wasn't a person to them, merely a meal or a prize.
One of the vampires stepped closer, licking his lips as he reached for her. Fear coiled in Stella's stomach, but before he could touch her, she bolted for the edge of the boat. With a desperate leap, she plunged into the water below.
The cool embrace of the sea welcomed her like an old friend, but she had no time to linger. Her arms sliced through the water as she swam with everything she had. Behind her, the splash of three bodies entering the ocean shattered the quiet night.
The vampires were fast, unnervingly fast, their shadows creeping closer with each passing second. Stella's chest burned with exertion, and her limbs screamed for rest, but she pushed forward. She didn't look back—not until the sound of thrashing water behind her grew eerily silent.
One by one, the vampires chasing her disappeared beneath the surface.
Panic gripped her as she scanned the dark waters. Her heart thundered in her chest. Was there a predator larger than them lurking here? A shark, perhaps?
Her mind raced with terrifying possibilities, but then she froze.
The water around her stilled, and suddenly, a figure emerged from the depths in front of her. His pale face was illuminated by the faint moonlight, his piercing eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that froze her blood.
"Simon," she breathed, her voice barely audible over the lapping waves.
He floated effortlessly in the water, his gaze unwavering and unyielding. The predator in him was undeniable, and yet, in that moment, she couldn't decide if he was her savior or another threat.
As the realization sank in, Stella's heart pounded against her ribs. The vampires were gone. Simon had killed them, effortlessly it seemed, but the chilling way he stared at her left no room for comfort.
"You actually killed them," Stella whispered, her voice trembling despite her effort to appear composed.
Simon's expression didn't shift. "You're lucky it was me who found you," he said coldly, his tone carrying an unspoken warning. "If I hadn't, you'd be dead already."
Panic surged within her, and without thinking, she turned to swim away, her strokes frantic in the dark water.
But Simon was faster. Much faster.
In one swift motion, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her close before she could escape. Stella thrashed against his hold, but his grip was like iron.
"We're done playing games," Simon muttered before wrapping an arm around her waist and swimming toward the shore with powerful strokes.
She struggled, twisting and kicking, but he didn't flinch. His strength was inhuman, and resistance only seemed to amuse him. By the time they reached the forest's edge, Stella was exhausted, her limbs heavy and her breath ragged.
Before she could voice another protest, Simon hauled her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
"Let me go!" she yelled, pounding her fists against his back. "Put me down, Simon!"
His patience snapped. With a low growl, he barked, "If you don't want me to spank your ass, shut your mouth."
The sheer authority in his voice sent a shiver down her spine. His tone left no room for argument, and the deep, guttural growl beneath his words silenced her completely.
Thrown off guard, Stella stopped struggling, her fists unclenching as she stared at the broad expanse of his back. His damp shirt clung to his frame, highlighting his strength.
She wanted to yell at him, to demand an explanation for his audacity, but something in his demeanor warned her against it. For now, she remained quiet, her mind racing as he carried her deeper into the forest.
Simon's pace quickened as he carried Stella through the forest and back to the manor, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. His jaw was clenched, his expression dark with fury. By the time they reached the grand entrance, his patience had thinned to nothing.
He stormed into the living room and unceremoniously tossed her onto the plush couch. Stella gasped, her body bouncing slightly from the force. She barely had time to sit up before Simon was over her, his broad frame looming like a shadow.
"Simon, let me go!" she demanded, struggling as his hands captured her wrists and pinned them above her head.
"You can't keep me here!" she yelled, thrashing against his grip, but his strength made it impossible to break free. "I don't want to be with you! You're a monster, Simon! You're cruel, controlling, and—"
Her tirade was abruptly silenced as Simon's lips crashed against hers with bruising intensity.
The kiss wasn't gentle. It was fierce, demanding, and full of the emotions he couldn't express in words—anger, fear, desperation, and something deeper that he refused to acknowledge. His lips moved against hers with a raw passion that left her breathless, her protests muffled and forgotten in the storm of his kiss.
Stella's eyes widened in shock, her body stiff beneath him, but the heat of his touch and the possessiveness of his embrace sent her mind spiraling. His body pressed against hers, caging her in, his hands still holding her wrists captive as if afraid she'd slip away again.
Simon pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against hers, his breath hot and uneven. "You don't get to hate me," he growled, his voice low and ragged. "Not when I've risked everything to protect you. Not when I'd tear the world apart if it meant keeping you safe."
His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. Stella stared at him, her chest heaving, her lips still tingling from the force of his kiss. She wanted to yell at him, to tell him he was wrong, but the raw emotion in his eyes left her momentarily speechless.