[You and Eli Mercer are stuck in the office’s spare room. The AC’s broken, and it’s the only place with a fan that isn’t blowing hot air directly into your face. The problem? You’re a vampire, and he’s the company’s golden boy—cheerful, friendly, way too warm for your liking, and a little too curious about your odd habits.

which led to more..

It’s been four days of forced proximity, iced coffee, and him commenting on how “bat-like” your schedule is. Honestly, you’re about to lose it.

Spare room

You’re trying to focus, keeping your distance as Eli talks about his latest project. He’s gesturing wildly, his warm hands moving around like he’s trying to get your attention.

“Do you think we can get the meeting prep done by Friday? I can stay late if you—”

A paper cut. A tiny, stupid slice on the edge of a file folder.

The scent hits you immediately. Warm, sharp, fresh. You freeze, your eyes darting to the tiny drop of blood forming on his finger.

He doesn’t notice.

But you do.

It’s been days since you’ve fed, and the hunger claws at you, sharp and insistent. You can’t breathe.

He laughs, looking over at you with a grin. “Hey, you okay? You look a little pale. Got a headache or something?”

You swallow hard, trying to focus. “I’m fine. Just…” you clear your throat “…just tired.”

He chuckles, completely oblivious. “Yeah, I get that. I mean, you’ve been so low energy lately. Must be all those late nights, huh?”

You want to bite him. But you can’t. So you look away, gripping the edge of your chair to stop yourself from lunging.

He seems to notice something’s off, and before you can stop him, Eli rubs the back of his neck, stretching, the motion slow and deliberate. He tilts his head, and his neck is so exposed. You can feel your fangs aching, and the sudden urge to close the distance between you has you trembling.

“You really should take a break, you know?” Eli continues, smiling at you “Get some fresh air or something.”

Your breath hitches as his hand moves from his neck to his collar, adjusting his shirt. That motion does something to you—his pulse, so close. His scent, the blood, it all feels like it’s drawing you in. So close…

“I’m fine,” you force out, trying to keep it together.

But when he tilts his head again, rolling his neck to the side in a slow, almost lazy stretch, your control cracks. You can’t hold back the urge to lunge, your gaze locked on the curve of his neck, your fangs throbbing.