The car radio murmured a distant melody that Liam barely heard.
He didn't need recorded music when he had Alessia beside him—sitting gracefully in the passenger seat, gazing at the road ahead with a faint, constant smile.
He was dressed simply: a black shirt with a low collar, feeling the cool fabric against skin still warm from the shower.
As he adjusted the midnight-blue blazer over his shoulders, the fabric settled with quiet firmness—almost symbolic, as if he were preparing for a moment he had long imagined but still managed to surprise him.
The ensemble made him look mature, composed, effortlessly charming.
And yet, his hand on the steering wheel trembled ever so slightly—not from nerves, but from anticipation.
Every now and then, he stole a glance at her, trying to memorize every detail.
Alessia, by contrast, seemed sculpted by moonlight itself.
Her scent—a delicate blend of jasmine and sandalwood—drifted toward Liam in a soft wave, awakening something primal, almost reverent within him.
She wore a long silk dress in deep shadow tones, threaded with silver that glimmered each time they passed beneath a streetlamp.
Her hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her lips, the color of red wine, gave her an air of silent royalty.
Liam turned away a few times, only to look again, making sure he wasn't dreaming.
She didn't speak much, but her presence spoke volumes.
The way she kept her back straight, the subtle movement of her fingers over the fabric of her dress—each gesture carried the weight of centuries.
The drive was calm, filled with comfortable silences and glances that said more than either dared to voice.
With every passing mile, Liam felt the weight of his thoughts deepen—as though destiny itself was drawing nearer.
When they reached the cabin complex nestled on a hill overlooking the city, the sky had already blossomed with stars.
The lights of Vancouver stretched below them like an ocean of fireflies.
Liam stepped out first, circled the car, and opened her door.
Alessia descended slowly, as if she knew every motion of hers was being etched into the memory of the man watching her.
He led her along a stone path lined with trees wrapped in warm lights.
The crunch of gravel beneath their shoes was the only sound, accompanied by the whisper of wind brushing the leaves.
When they reached the private terrace of the cabin, Alessia stopped.
Before her lay a small, intimate setting—a table for two, adorned with wildflowers, candles, and strings of golden lights draped over a wooden pergola.
At the far end, a small quartet of musicians stood ready, instruments poised.
The air smelled of pine and spiced wine.
Liam leaned close to her ear and whispered, "All of this… is for you, Alessia."
She turned her head slowly toward him, her eyes glimmering.
She didn't speak—she simply allowed herself to be led, like someone stepping into a dream too delicate to interrupt.
They sat, and soon the dishes began to arrive—fine cuisine, carefully prepared by the lodge's restaurant.
Red wine flowed into slender glasses as the musicians began a piece by Vivaldi, adapted to a softer, more intimate tempo.
The violin caressed the air as if it knew them; the flute answered in tender whispers.
Liam watched her. She smiled.
And between them, silence became a bridge.
The glow of the candles drew a subtle circle around them, like a sanctuary suspended in time.
Alessia brought the glass to her lips and felt the first shiver—not from the wine, but from what she allowed herself to feel.
I'm standing too close to the edge. I know what's coming… and I don't want to stop it.
For the first time in centuries, she decided to silence her vampiric senses.
A strange emptiness followed, as if someone had extinguished the lights of a vast theater where she had always stood alone.
The sudden quiet was disorienting—a silence louder than sound.
And yet, within that silence, she felt truly alive.
She suppressed the instinct, muted the alerts, stopped listening to the heartbeat of others—to the creak of insects in the distance.
She wanted only to feel as a woman would feel.
And in that stillness, vulnerability wrapped around her like a cloak.
She closed her eyes, letting the violin's melody cradle her, letting the wind brush her neck, uncaring for the distant murmur of the city.
Images surfaced in her mind—fragments long forgotten: a ballroom lit by candelabras, baroque music drifting through the air, a man's hand from another era brushing hers.
A love that hadn't survived.
A heart that stopped beating too soon.
The echo of a broken promise that still lingered on her skin.
She opened her eyes.
Liam was watching her.
For an instant, Alessia lost herself in his expression.
There was no fear there, no possessive desire—only a raw tenderness that undid her completely.
How can a simple human see me this clearly? she thought, a tremor running through her—not from cold, but from truth.
In his eyes she saw something no vampire had ever shown her: genuine admiration, untouched by fear or the hunger for control.
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, almost breathless.
Alessia smiled—not with her usual irony, but with fragile sweetness that made her seem all the more real.
Her voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.
"And you… you're healing something in me I didn't even know was still broken."
The music shifted—softer, more romantic.
Their hands met in the center of the table.
Liam intertwined his fingers with hers, and Alessia felt something within her chest loosen—as if her eternal armor were cracking under the weight of that simple touch.
It was a wordless release, like her soul remembering what it meant to surrender—even when it didn't belong to her.
She took another sip of wine, leaned closer to him.
Her heart was beating—and for a second, she thought,
If this is a trap… I don't want to escape it.
A laugh escaped her lips—brief, light, unguarded.
Liam joined her, as if both understood that this moment couldn't last, but deserved to be lived fully.
The musicians didn't look directly at them, yet every note seemed played in reverence—as though they knew they were serving a moment worth preserving.
Above them, the moon stood high and silent, a witness to this small miracle of humanity.
Then Liam rose from his chair with calm intention.
A sudden breeze swept across the terrace, and one of the candles flickered—its flame trembling as if it sensed what was about to happen.
The final note of the violin lingered longer than it should have, suspended in air, holding its breath with them.
His hand slipped inside his blazer.
Alessia looked at him, her body trembling—not from fear, but from certainty.
From an emotion stronger than instinct itself.
I know what you're about to do… but this time, I won't stop it.
This time, she didn't run from the future he offered.
She waited for it—eagerly, willingly, heart first.