Simon's lips curved into a smirk, his fangs glinting faintly in the light. "That's my girl," he said, his voice laced with pride.
The air between them shifted, charged with an unspoken promise. Together, they would face whatever storm awaited. And together, they would emerge stronger.
"Have a bath and come outside. Enjoy the atmosphere. Don't think about them," Simon said softly, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed emotions.
Stella nodded silently and headed to the bathroom. The warm water washed over her, easing some of the tension in her body. Afterward, as she stepped into her room, her eyes landed on a stunning dark green dress spread out on the bed. Its soft, flowing fabric seemed to shimmer under the dim light, a subtle reminder of her connection to the sea.
Smiling faintly, she slipped into the dress and made her way outside. But as she stepped onto the deck, she realized it was empty. Frowning, she glanced around.
Suddenly, Simon appeared before her, his presence commanding as always.
"Wanna have a dance?" he asked, extending his hand with a small, playful smirk.
A soft smile curved her lips, and she placed her hand in his. "Always," she replied.
He pulled her toward him, and as if on cue, soft music began to play in the background. The melody was gentle, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Stella wound her arms around Simon's neck, her fingers grazing the nape of his neck as they swayed together.
"I know why you're doing this," she said after a moment, her voice quiet but certain.
Simon raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing. "Oh? And why am I doing this?"
"You don't want me to think about them," Stella replied, meeting his gaze with knowing eyes.
Simon's lips curled into a sly smile as he pulled her closer, their bodies almost touching. "You're wrong," he murmured.
"Then why all of this?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. The night sky stretched above them, a canvas of stars that seemed to glow brighter, adding a romantic magic to the atmosphere.
"Because I want you to be happy," Simon said, his voice firm yet tender. "No matter what happens, don't give a damn about anyone or anything that tries to pull you down." He twirled her gracefully, his strength steadying her before he pulled her back into his arms.
"And let me tell you something," he continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper as his eyes bore into hers. "Wherever you go, whatever you do, your destiny will always lead back to me."
Stella's heart swelled at his words, and a genuine smile lit up her face. For the first time in days, she felt lighter.
After their dance, they shared a quiet dinner under the stars, accompanied by glasses of wine. Simon watched her closely, his heart easing as he saw glimpses of the Stella he knew—the one who smiled, the one who found joy even amidst chaos.
Later, as the night deepened, he carried her to bed. She didn't protest, too tired and comforted by his presence. He climbed in beside her, wrapping his arms around her protectively.
She snuggled into him, her warmth seeping into his skin. "I love you," she whispered, her words faint but heartfelt, just as sleep began to claim her.
Simon stilled, her confession wrapping around his heart like a vice. He tightened his hold on her, brushing a kiss against her temple.
"I love you more, little fish," he murmured, his voice soft and full of reverence.
Stella shifted closer, her breathing evening out as she slipped into a deep, peaceful slumber. Simon stared down at her, a rare tenderness flickering in his eyes.
For her, he would destroy the world. For her, he would rebuild it.
And as she lay in his arms, he silently vowed that nothing—not betrayal, not pain, not even fate—would ever take her away from him.
The moon hung heavy in the sky, full and radiant, casting its silver light over the vast ocean. On the yacht, Simon opened his eyes. Tonight was a full moon, which meant his hunger would be at its peak. The blood loss he had endured, coupled with days without feeding properly, made his thirst unbearable.
He shifted on the bed and turned to Stella. She was curled up, her breathing soft and steady. Simon's gaze lingered on her for a moment too long, his heightened senses picking up the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, the enticing warmth emanating from her neck.
His jaw tightened, and he quickly turned away, rising from the bed with a silent resolve. He couldn't allow himself to lose control—not here, not with her.
Simon walked to the wheelhouse, glancing at the map illuminated by the faint glow of the moonlight. A small island lay nearby, secluded and untouched. He adjusted the yacht's course and steered toward it, his instincts clawing at his composure.
When the yacht anchored near the island, Simon descended into the cockpit, opening a hidden compartment. Two bottles of blood rested inside. He uncorked one and drank greedily, the thick liquid coating his throat, but it wasn't enough. His hunger burned hotter, sharper, like a wildfire spreading through his veins.
The ripper within him—the dark, primal force that thrived on carnage—was awakening. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening as he fought to suppress it, but the beast was relentless.
Simon stormed out, leaping from the yacht onto the island's shore with unnatural speed. The forest was dense, the scent of life heavy in the air. He moved like a shadow, silent and lethal, finding his prey in minutes.
One by one, he fed, draining the life from six unsuspecting souls who had wandered too close to danger. The warmth of their blood dulled the edge of his hunger but didn't extinguish it entirely. His ripper demanded more, but Simon forced himself to stop. He had taken enough to survive—and to avoid harming Stella.
Returning to the yacht, Simon's movements were brisk and calculated. He climbed aboard, his body tense, and made his way to the deck. Dropping onto the cushioned seat, he pulled out another bottle of blood from a hidden stash and drank it, letting the taste of iron and life soothe the lingering fire within him.
The cool night breeze rolled over the deck, but Simon's skin felt fevered. Frustrated, he yanked off his shirt and tossed it aside. His chest rose and fell with slow, measured breaths as he tried to steady himself.