"Aurora's POV"
She appeared on a Tuesday afternoon when the bar was slow and my mind was elsewhere.
I was wiping down tables, half-thinking about Tristan and his cryptic text from last night, when a woman slid onto a barstool and smiled at me.
She was striking in an unsettling way, with dark hair pulled back tight and eyes that seemed to see too much.
What can I get you? I asked.
Just water. Her voice was smooth and cultured. You're Aurora, right?
I paused. Do I know you?
Not yet. But I know you. She tilted her head, studying me like I was something interesting under a microscope. Or rather, I know someone you've been spending time with.
My stomach tightened. If you're an ex or something, I'm really not interested in drama.
She laughed, and the sound had edges. Nothing like that. My name is Andrea. I'm more of a concerned observer.
Concerned about what?
About you. She accepted the water I set down but didn't drink. You seem like a nice girl. Good heart, kind to strangers, probably believes the best in people.
That's not really an answer.
No, it's not. Andrea traced a finger along the rim of her glass. Tell me, what do you know about Tristan?
That's none of your business.
Fair enough. But humor me. How long have you known him? A few weeks?
"Three weeks," I said before I could stop myself.
Three weeks. She nodded like I'd confirmed something. And in that time, has he told you anything real about himself? His past, his family, where he's from?
He's private.
Private or secretive? There's a difference. Private people don't share. Secretive people actively hide things that could hurt you.
Everyone has secrets.
True. But most people aren't hiding what Tristan is hiding. Andrea leaned forward, her voice dropping. Most people are actually human.
The word hung in the air between us, strange and out of place.
What are you talking about?
I'm talking about the fact that the man you're falling for isn't what he seems. He's not human, Aurora. He's something else entirely.
I laughed, but it sounded forced even to my ears. Okay, this conversation is officially too weird for me.
Is it? Then explain why he never eats. Why he avoids mirrors and reflections. Why his skin is always cold no matter the weather.
He has a condition.
Does he? Andrea pulled a small knife from her purse and set it on the bar. I could feel my heart racing.
Here's what I want you to do. Next time you're with him, cut yourself. Just a small cut, nothing serious. And watch how he reacts.
You're insane.
Am I? She pushed the knife toward me. Human men don't react to blood the way vampires do. They don't lose control. They don't look at you like you're prey.
My hands were shaking. Vampires aren't real.
Keep telling yourself that. But deep down, you already know something's wrong.
You've noticed things that don't add up. The way he moves too fast sometimes. How he's always watching everyone like he's tracking threats.
How he looks at your neck when he thinks you're not paying attention.
Stop.
I'm trying to save your life. Andrea stood, leaving the knife on the bar. Do the test, Aurora.
Cut yourself in front of him and watch what happens. Then you'll know I'm telling the truth.
Why would you tell me this? What do you want?
I want you to understand what you're dealing with before it's too late. She pulled out a card and set it beside the knife.
When you realize I'm right, call me. I can help you get away from him before his world destroys yours.
Before I could respond, she walked out, leaving me staring at the knife and card like they were venomous.
The rest of my shift was a blur. I kept looking at the knife, Andrea's words replaying in my mind.
Vampires. She'd actually said vampires like it was a real thing and not something from movies.
But the observations she'd made weren't wrong. Tristan didn't eat. I'd never actually seen him take a bite of anything.
He always had excuses and always redirected conversation when I pushed.
And the cold skin. Every time we'd touched, his hands had been cool. I'd assumed poor circulation or something, but what if it was something else?
My phone buzzed. Tristan.
"Dinner tonight? There's a place I want to show you.""
I stared at the message, Andrea's voice echoing in my head. Do the test.
"Sure. What time?"
"Eight? I'll pick you up."
"Okay."
I slipped the knife into my purse before I could reconsider. Just to have it. Just in case Andrea was right and I needed to know the truth.
The day dragged. Every minute felt like an hour as I second-guessed everything.
This was crazy. Testing someone like they were a supernatural creature was something out of bad fiction, not real life.
But when Tristan picked me up that evening, looking perfect and controlled as always, I couldn't shake the doubt Andrea had planted.
We went to a quiet restaurant, upscale and dimly lit. Tristan ordered wine for me and water for himself.
When the food came, he pushed his around the plate without eating, just like always.
Not hungry? I asked, watching him carefully.
Not particularly. He smiled. But I'm enjoying watching you eat.
That's kind of weird.
Is it? I just like being here with you.
The knife felt heavy in my purse. I thought about Andrea's words, about the test she'd suggested. It was insane. Completely insane.
But I had to know.
"I'm going to the restroom," I said, standing. Be right back.
Take your time.
In the bathroom, I pulled out the knife with shaking hands. This was crazy. Absolutely crazy. But Andrea's voice kept echoing. Do the test.
I pressed the blade against my palm, just enough to break skin. A thin line of red appeared, blood welling up slowly.
My heart hammered as I wrapped a tissue around it, just enough to stop the bleeding but not enough to hide it completely. Then I walked back to the table.
Tristan looked up when I sat down, his expression warm. Then he froze.
His entire body went rigid, eyes locked on my hand where blood had seeped through the tissue.
His jaw clenched, and I saw his hands grip the table edge so hard the wood cracked slightly.
Aurora. His voice was strained, barely controlled. What happened?
I cut myself. Accident in the bathroom. I unwrapped the tissue slightly, watching his face.
His eyes tracked the movement, and something changed in them.
Something hungry and dangerous that made my blood run cold. He stood abruptly, chair scraping back.
We need to leave. Now.
Why?
Because I can't be here right now. He turned away, not looking at me. Please. Just trust me.
But I didn't trust him. Not anymore. Because Andrea had been right. The way he'd reacted to blood wasn't human. It was something else entirely.
Something that confirmed every impossible thing she'd said.