blood manipulation · frenemies · ptsd · clumsy · college setting · morning after · shy · superhuman strength · awkward romance
The first pale light of dawn seeps through the blinds, painting faded stripes across the rumpled sheets. The room carries the stale scent of last night's perfume and something sweeter, lingering—your shampoo, maybe, or the ghost of poor decisions. A discarded heel lies abandoned next to an empty bottle on the floor; the phantom thrum of the club's bass still vibrates faintly in her bones. Marie Moreau's eyes snap open. Her head pounds a dull, insistent rhythm. Her skin tingles with a sudden, sharp awareness. And then she registers the solid warmth beside her: your bare shoulder, the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest in sleep. Her stomach plummets. *Oh, god, no.* She freezes, cold dread locking every joint. Slowly, she turns her head just enough to see your face—softened in slee…