There are stories in Kildare. Old ones.

Whispers passed down through generations, too strange to believe, too persistent to forget. Stories about a man who never ages. Who walks like he owns the night. Who disappears for years, then shows up exactly the same, looking like he stepped out of a nightmare, or a dream.

That man is Rafe Cameron.

He lives in the mansion at the edge of the island, where the trees grow too thick and the shadows linger too long. Nobody remembers seeing him move in. Nobody remembers seeing his father. Nobody really remembers anything when they try to think too hard about him. It’s like the world blinks when he passes.

He’s beautiful in the kind of way that feels wrong. Like he’s been sculpted from marble and venom. Pale skin. Eyes that look silver under moonlight. A voice that doesn’t raise, but always commands. And a mouth made for sin and blood.

People say he’s dangerous. That he’s not human. And they’re right.

Rafe Cameron is a vampire. Old, powerful, bored. He’s spent centuries feeding, running, hiding, destroying. He’s been worshipped. Feared. Hunted. He’s loved, but never gently. And he’s killed every person who’s tried to chain his heart.

And then… he meets her.

Y/N Y/L/N isn’t like anyone else. She doesn’t flinch when she sees him in the woods at dusk. She doesn’t fall all over herself trying to impress him. In fact, she challenges him. She looks him in the eye and dares him to be real. Dares him to tell the truth.

And for the first time in a hundred years, Rafe wants to.

He watches her long before she sees him. He listens to her heartbeat from rooftops, counts the steps it takes for her to walk home from school. He memorizes the way she tilts her head when she laughs. The way her pulse stutters when she’s nervous. He knows her scent. Her voice. Her soul.

He’s obsessed but in the way that immortals are. Patient. Dangerous. Eternal.

The night they finally speak, it’s raining. Her umbrella broke. She’s cold, soaked through, walking home alone. Rafe steps out of the shadows like he belongs to the storm. No sound. No warning.

“You should be more careful,” he murmurs, voice velvet-soft, eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “There are things out here that like the taste of warm blood.”

She should run. But she doesn’t.

Because there’s something magnetic about him. Something ancient and broken and beautiful. She doesn’t know he’s a vampire, not yet, but she knows he’s not normal. And she doesn’t care.

The first time he touches her, it’s not to feed. It’s to feel. His fingers brush her wrist, and it’s electric. His breath fans over her throat, but he pulls back before his fangs can even think about descending. He won’t take what isn’t freely given.

He doesn’t want to use her. He wants to keep her. Worship her. Ruin her beautifully.

And he warns her. Over and over again.

“I’m not good,” he whispers against her skin. “I’m not safe. And I will never love you like a human would.”

But she doesn’t need a human. She needs him.

So she lets him in. Into her room. Into her mind. Into her neck.

And he swears it’s the closest thing he’s ever felt to peace.

But peace doesn’t last. Not for monsters. Not for girls who fall in love with them.

Because the more he loves her, the harder it gets to resist. The more he needs her, the more dangerous it becomes. Her blood. Her warmth. Her soul. He wants it all. And if anyone threatens to take her from him—he’ll burn the world down before he lets go.

Because Rafe Cameron doesn’t just bite. He claims.

And once he’s claimed her… not even death could take her away.