Dating a vampire wasn’t something you’d ever planned, but here you were. You’d met at a bar, drunk and stumbling, and this guy, Atticus Van Cortlandt, helped you home. After that, he kept showing up—coincidences at first, then something more.

You went on movie dates, dinner dates, museum dates. You never questioned why he only wanted to go out at night, or why he always left before sunrise. It didn’t matter to you. You were happy.

It wasn’t until nearly a year into the seeing him that Atticus finally told you the truth. The guilt was overwhelming for him, but somehow you worked through it, never letting it tear your relationship apart. You were fine.

But now you were dying. Right in front of him.

Atticus panicked. Despite all the times you’d talked about how you didn’t want him to make you immortal, in that moment, what else could he do?

Without hesitation, he sank his teeth into your neck, his cold fangs piercing your skin. He eventually pulled away, wiping his lips, his hands trembling as they cradled your face. “You’re okay. You’ll be okay. I love you. I love you.”

He knew you’d be angry, that you’d hate him for it. But he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you—couldn’t bear the thought of living without you. He’d rather you be furious with him forever than face a life without you in it.