Simon stepped back, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, but his actions softened as he went into another room. When he returned, he was holding a first aid kit, kneeling in front of her with a focused expression. He carefully wiped down her feet with a damp cloth, cleaning her cuts and bruises with a gentleness that seemed out of place considering the tension between them. Stella stayed silent, staring at the floor, her body stiff but her mind swirling with everything that had happened.
When Simon finished, he stood up and left the room again, returning shortly after with a plate of food. He held it in front of her, his voice calm but commanding. "Eat."
Stella turned her face away from the plate, her defiance clear. "I don't want to, and I won't."
Simon's eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped into a dangerous tone, low and threatening. "Want me to force you?"
She held her ground, refusing to show fear, but Simon wasn't finished. He snapped, his frustration finally boiling over. "One year, Stella. Can't you stay here for just one year?"
Her heart sank at his words, the truth of her situation suddenly feeling too real.
"They're looking for you," Simon continued, his voice hardening. "If you turn 22 this year, and if the transition happens, you'll be a prize for anyone who can get their hands on you."
The weight of his words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she stood up, walking toward him, her face close to his. Her voice was low, almost dangerous, as she challenged him. "Do I look like a damsel in distress to you?"
"I'm turning 22 in two months," she said, her voice calm but with an edge of bitterness. "If the transition happens, I'll get stronger, but I'll be hunted. If it doesn't, I'll stay a hostage. Did you think I didn't know that?"
Simon's breath caught for a moment, but then he leaned in, his face mere inches from hers. "Do you think I don't know what you're doing, Stella? You're trying to get answers from me, by saying these stuff. And you'll get them when I'm ready to give them to you." His voice was dark, laced with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
"I kidnapped you because it's the only way I can keep you safe," Simon said, his words colder now. "And as for your family, Elizabeth already knows you're with me."
Stella froze, her heart sinking into her stomach. Elizabeth knew? The realization hit her like a tidal wave. Gigi knew too—she had to have known. Had she been in on this all along? The questions bubbled to the surface, but the look on Simon's face made it clear that the answers she sought weren't going to come easily.
"I will help you through the transition if that happens , and from now on, I'll be staying with you, whether you want to or not," Simon declared, his voice serious, a trace of determination in his eyes.
Stella felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over her. She knew she was in a dangerous position, her heart torn between desire and caution. If trusting Simon meant losing her rationality, she was ready to let go. He was a vampire—a danger she should avoid—but there was something intoxicating about the danger he represented. She was drawn to him, to the risk, to him as a whole. And though every rational part of her mind screamed at her to stay away, her instincts whispered otherwise. In that moment, she made a choice: to be with him, even if it was only for a year, or perhaps for a lifetime. It would be him, no matter what.
She stood on his toes, her body close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. With her palm facing upwards, she held it out toward Simon, challenging him with her posture. The space between them was electric, charged with tension. Simon's eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling into an intrigued smirk as he watched her, his expression unreadable.
"Instead of repeating yourself over and over, will you finally give me all the answers I want?" she challenged, her voice strong. "And stop acting like a jerk?"
Simon's lips quirked up in amusement, but his gaze darkened slightly. "Not until you promise me that you won't try anything stupid," he said, placing his hand firmly on her waist.
Stella stood her ground, a glimmer of defiance still in her eyes. "I promise," she said, her voice unwavering. "What about you?"
Simon's eyes locked with hers, a moment of silent understanding passing between them. "I promise, little fish," he said, his voice soft but sincere, "I'll give you all the answers you want."
Her gaze softened as their hands met. "Good," she whispered, "Then let's seal the deal."
Without hesitation, she pulled him in by his neck, pressing her lips against his. The kiss was sudden, fierce, and full of longing. It was a collision of everything unsaid between them—raw, demanding, desperate. Simon responded instantly, his lips crashing against hers with a passion that stole her breath. The kiss was deep, urgent, as if they both feared losing the moment, the connection, that was pulling them together with irresistible force.
His hands roamed down her back, possessive and hungry, before he lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around him as he carried her to the couch. He sat down, pulling her onto his lap, his presence dominating, like a king claiming his throne.
He kissed her again, and again, as if trying to consume her, his hands tracing the contours of her body, each touch setting her skin on fire.
Her bare skin, still damp from the night's coolness, felt like a live wire beneath his touch, and he could feel his control unraveling with every kiss, every caress. His fingers brushed against her body, moving with an urgency that mirrored the chaos swirling inside him. The room was spinning, the world outside ceased to exist—there was only her, and him, and the heat between them.
Then, suddenly, her stomach growled loudly, breaking the intensity like a cold splash of water. Stella pulled away, panting, her breath shallow as she looked at him, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and desire. Her heart was still racing, and she felt a surge of heat flood her body again, though this time it wasn't just from the kiss.
Simon's expression softened slightly, though the intensity in his eyes didn't waver. He was still holding her, still so close, the tension between them far from over. The moment had shifted, but the desire was far from fading.
"You should eat," Simon said, handing her the plate. When she made to move, he tightened his grip on her thighs.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To sit beside you," Stella replied, taking the plate.
"You can eat here," Simon said, making her settle onto his lap instead.
"Why can't I sit there?" she questioned, quirking an eyebrow.
"You've become quite defiant these days," Simon murmured, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement.
"Learned from my personal trainer, his habits rubbed off on me you know," Stella quipped, a hint of mischief in her tone. Simon's smile deepened, clearly catching her reference.
"He must be a tough one to spoil you like that," he remarked.
Stella shrugged, resuming her meal with a quiet nod. "Maybe," she murmured between bites.
Simon settled back, spreading his hands as he watched her eat, his gaze sharp yet tender, reflecting something he didn't often allow himself to feel. It was a rare glimpse of the man he was becoming—strong, but not unfeeling, protective, yet still hard. For Stella, he found it impossible to maintain his usual detached demeanor; everything felt more real, more urgent, in a way he hadn't expected.
There was a silence between them, comfortable and deep, and as he watched her, he was filled with a sense of awe—here was a woman who challenged him, who was bold enough to face him head-on, yet still able to melt his defenses with just a look. It was a power he could not understand, but one he was powerless to resist.
"Go upstairs, and then go to the bathroom. You'll find another door there that leads to the swimming pool. If you stay in the water, your wounds will heal faster," Simon instructed.
Stella handed him her plate and moved upstairs without a word, her thoughts swirling in the quiet between them. She entered the bathroom, then made her way to the pool. The cool water greeted her, lapping at her skin as she descended the stairs. It was comforting, familiar—her body beginning to relax as the water reached her neck, its healing power soothing the aches and pains.
Stella leaned back, her hair floating around her as her wounds gradually closed, the mermaid's natural affinity to water working its magic. Her breath slowed, a sense of calm washing over her.
Minutes passed before Simon appeared, stepping into the pool with a quiet grace. He settled beside her, his gaze lingering on her as she sat on the stairs, the water shimmering around them.
"You don't remove your clothes?" Simon asked, his voice low as he handed her a wine glass.
"Feeling sad that you didn't get to see my body?" Stella teased, her lips curling into a smile as she took the glass and sipped the wine.
"Kind of," Simon replied, his eyes darkening slightly with an unreadable emotion. He seemed to appreciate the way she was now—unabashedly confident, the sharp edge to her words a reflection of the woman she was becoming.
Stella smirked, swirling the wine in the glass, before taking another sip. There was something about the moment—the quiet intimacy of it—that made her feel both at ease and unsettled at the same time. The attraction between them was undeniable, thick in the air like a storm, but the question remained whether they would ever allow themselves to give in fully to it.
He liked the way she was now. She wasn't shy, wasn't quiet, and he found it captivating. Stella had finally come to understand the cruel world she was now a part of. Confident, sharp-tongued, and no longer the naive girl she once was, but one thing remained unchanged—her heart. It was still pure, untainted by the darkness around them. Simon had been watching her ever since he'd woken up from the coffin, intrigued by her, fascinated by how she had grown. It was like his little fish had become a powerful creature in her own right.
He stepped out of the pool, his movements smooth, and returned moments later. Stella's eyes met him as he approached, noticing the phone in his hand. Her phone.
"As you said, trust comes from both sides," Simon said, his voice calm as he placed the phone on the nearby chair, his eyes never leaving her.
Stella smiled, an almost imperceptible curve of her lips, her gaze softening at the gesture. It was small, but meaningful. Her phone was a bridge, a sign of trust between them, something he had taken from her before, now returning it in his own way.