The Quiet Getaway

AYA

^PRESENT DAY^

I tracked Alexander’s unique scent all the way to La Spezia, slipping into the town just as the first light of dawn was breaking. When I’d gone back to our Airbnb to grab my pack, Tom was nowhere to be found, which was a relief. I wasn’t in the mood for a conversation.

He wouldn’t get it anyway.

He’d been turned into a vampire by someone who’d left him to figure out the whole immortality thing on his own. He’d never really bonded with his maker, and his mind was too consumed with the fame and wealth he’d get from delivering Alexander to the queen.

But Alexander and I, despite everything, couldn’t just walk away from each other.

There was too much shared history. Too many unresolved issues.

I made my way through the underbrush, following his scent to an ancient, dilapidated church perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. The sound of waves crashing against the jagged rocks below was almost deafening, easily drowning out any nearby sounds.

The salty sea air clung to my skin, stirring up long-buried memories. I stood there for a moment, just staring at the moonlight dancing on the restless waves.

Then, a faint sound echoed from inside the church. I brushed my unruly hair out of my face and pushed open the heavy wooden doors just as the sun began to peek over the horizon.

My footsteps echoed on the dusty marble floor. The church was breathtaking, seemingly untouched by time, its silence eerie.

But I could hear him. He was down below. And I could smell fresh blood.

My throat constricted. I slowly made my way down the iron staircase into the crypt, sliding the stone slab back into place above me. The air was heavy with the metallic scent of death.

The crypt was small, with an arched ceiling, lit by a single torch flickering against the limestone walls. In the middle, a young man’s body was sprawled out on an altar, his lifeblood slowly dripping onto the cold stone floor, pooling in the cracks.

I sucked in a sharp breath. The thirst hit me like a punch to the gut. My mind went blank—instincts taking over.

I clenched my fists, trying to ignore the scent—the hunger gnawing at my insides.

“What a waste of blood,” I muttered, stepping closer. I wrapped my hand around the young man’s wrist, still warm. Without a second thought, I sank my fangs into his skin.

The taste was divine. A wave of warmth spread through my body—rich and intoxicating.

A low chuckle echoed from the shadows. I didn’t stop drinking, even as the sound of footsteps approached.

Alexander stepped out of the darkness, still in the same dirty clothes. His dark hair was tousled, and his crimson eyes sparkled. He looked like a wreck, but there was something undeniably attractive about seeing him like this—so reckless, so vulnerable.

He flashed me a grin.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” he confessed. “I needed something to lure you here.”

He winked at me. “I know how much you like young Italians.”

I rolled my eyes and dropped the arm, wiping the blood from my lips. His gaze followed the movement, lingering.

“I hope you’ve got a place for me to crash,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s been a long night.”

His grin widened.

“Always happy to have you, little bird,” he replied, gesturing toward the tunnel behind him.

As I walked past him, his hand found the small of my back, guiding me forward. The touch was familiar and comforting, but it also made me uneasy.

This was risky. This was a mistake.

That sense of belonging was creeping back in, and I hated it.

Alexander had set up a makeshift bed in the center of another domed room. It reminded me of the places we used to sleep when we were wandering through Africa and Australia. Sheets piled up, whatever padding he could find, clothes bundled up as pillows.

We hadn’t traveled in style. We’d barely had anything. But we were happy.

He let go of me and sat down on the edge of the bed. I stood there, watching him, pushing back the memories that were trying to surface.

He’d changed so much. From the reckless young vampire prince I’d first met to the ruthless creature I’d had to put up with at the manor.

And now? Now he was something else entirely.

The wild, free-spirited vampire was still there, but the past hundred years had left their mark. His smiles no longer reached his eyes.

His grandfather—the king—had turned him into this. Molded him into the ruler he’d always wanted Alexander’s father to be. I’d watched it happen.

Alexander was in a worse position than me in this world. But as he sprawled out on the bed, acting like he owned the place, I was sure of one thing—he wasn’t going to give up what little he had left without a fight.

I sat next to him, digging through my bag for my book. He watched me get comfortable, my fingers brushing over the pages.

“What’s your current read?” he asked in a soft voice.

“~Pride and Prejudice~,” I whispered, trying to concentrate on the text.

He laughed lightly. “I recall buying that for you—in Perth.”

He ran his fingers through his dark hair, a gesture that was painfully familiar.

I looked at him, our eyes meeting. His eyes were cold, inscrutable.

“History should stay in the past,” I blurted out.

He smirked. “No need to tell me twice.”

As dusk fell, we left the church and ventured into the night. I adjusted my bag on my shoulders as Alexander fell into step with me. He was still in the same clothes, his shirt ripped and stained, his boots worn from days of running.

“You know,” I said, giving him a gentle nudge, “for a guy with a taste for the finer things, you’re really rocking the vagabond look.”

He gave me a dry smile, but there was something distant in his eyes.

“I used to have someone to remind me to change,” he said softly, his voice echoing a memory.

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. Because I knew exactly what he was talking about.

There was no scent to follow, no trail to track, so we headed north along the coast. Above us, the stars shone brightly, indifferent to the lives below.

The city lights twinkled on the horizon as we raced past, blending into the darkness like phantoms.

We took every measure to hide our tracks—masking our scent with bitter herbs, avoiding roads, and swimming through every lake we came across. It was second nature now—a habit formed from centuries of being pursued.

Even so, we knew they were on our tail. Chasing. Hunting.

Around midnight, Alexander suddenly stopped running. I almost ran into his back.

He stood perfectly still, his head tilted slightly, listening.

Then his fingers found my shoulder and spun me around. The motion was so familiar—so much like when he used to teach me to track—that for a moment, my mind slipped into the past.

And then I heard it.

Turned vampires. At least a dozen. And among them… Tom.

I gritted my teeth, my fists clenching at my sides. Bounty hunters.

And Alexander was the main attraction.

I looked at him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes had returned to a frosty blue. He smirked, slow and relaxed, as if this was just another game.

But I knew better. Twelve was a lot. Even for him.

His gaze shifted toward the ocean, the waves crashing violently against the rocky shore.

I nodded.

Without another word, he kicked off his shoes and stripped off his shirt. Then, in one swift move, he bit into his wrist, letting his blood splatter onto the fabric. The smell of it filled the air, rich and metallic.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at me.

I let out a breath and started removing my jacket, then my sandals, handing them to him.

And in an instant, he was gone—running farther north, leaving behind a trail of discarded clothes and drops of his blood. It wouldn’t fool them for long, but it might buy us enough time to vanish into the sea.

I stood at the edge of the water, the sand wet beneath my bare feet, listening. The sound of the turned vampires was getting closer. They were only a few kilometers away now, weaving through the forest, relentless.

Then, as quietly as he had disappeared, Alexander reappeared. Barefoot, shirtless, his wild eyes shining in the moonlight.

There was no time left.

He moved to my side, took my hand, and pulled me to his chest. The movement was instinctive, effortless, like something we had done a thousand times before. I didn’t think to pull away. I didn’t even want to.

Together, we dove into the ocean.

The water engulfed us.

The moonlight filtered through the surface, casting a soft, silvery glow on our path. Alexander swam ahead, slicing through the water with practiced ease. The saltwater brushed against my skin, weightless and gentle.

Fish scattered as we passed. Something with yellow eyes watched from a distance.

We spent hours submerged in the Mediterranean, only coming up for air when we had to, moving through the water like ghosts. By the time we finally climbed out, the moon was barely visible on the horizon.

We pulled ourselves onto a deserted beach, gasping for breath. Monaco was a distant sparkle against the darkness, its music and laughter echoing into the night. The city was always awake.

My dress was soaked, sticking to my skin, but I hardly noticed. Alexander took my hand again, leading me up the grassy slopes and into the mountains. The stars above seemed infinite, and for a moment, I felt like I had been transported to another era—one where it was just us, wandering the world with nothing but the night as our cloak.

We stumbled upon a house hidden deep in the hills. It was old and vacant, but it had a cellar. It would suffice.

While Alexander moved a bed into the cellar, I peeled off my drenched dress, squeezed out my bag, and rinsed everything under fresh water before hanging it up to dry. By sunrise, the sun would have it fresh and crisp again.

Then I took a shower, washing away the salt and fatigue from my body. The hot water was grounding, but it did nothing to clear the swarm of thoughts in my head.

~I shouldn’t be here.~

~I shouldn’t have come.~

But I had.

I found an old nightgown in a drawer—floral, probably belonging to a grandmother—and put it on before heading downstairs as the first light of dawn painted the sky.

Alexander was already asleep, his face buried in the pillows, his breath steady and deep.

I hesitated.

Then, slowly, I slid into the bed next to him.

Before I could get comfortable, his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close. His face nestled into my damp hair, and I heard him let out a long, slow breath.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

I turned slightly to look at him. His blue eyes shone in the dim light, something unreadable flickering in them. Then, in a rare, almost shy gesture, he nuzzled his nose against my shoulder.

“Nice nightie,” he teased, a smile playing on his lips.

I looked down at the old-fashioned fabric and smiled. I had worn something similar a century ago.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” I mumbled.

He laughed. “Indeed.” Then, after a pause, his voice softened. “Thank you, Aya. You didn’t have to come.”

“I didn’t,” I confessed.

He swallowed, his grip on me tightening slightly. “I promised, when I turned you, that I would take care of you. Protect you. Forever.” His voice cracked. “I failed. I failed you, and I’m sorry.”

His words were so raw, so unexpected, that for a moment, I wasn’t sure I had heard him right.

I tried to read his face, but he hid it in the crook of my neck, as if he couldn’t bear to see my reaction. His arms tightened around me, his fingers digging into my sides.

And I didn’t push him away.

Because I fit too perfectly in his arms. Because, despite everything, there was a part of me that had never truly left.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” he whispered, his voice almost begging. “But please, don’t leave. Not yet. I don’t want to face this alone.”

I took a sharp breath.

And then, before I could stop myself, I whispered, “I won’t leave you.”

The words felt risky.

Real.

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” I added softly.

A shiver ran through me as I felt the faintest touch of his lips against my neck. A memory stirred—a memory of him feeding from me, of the irresistible pull between us.

“I missed you, baby,” he murmured, his voice heavy with fatigue.

And then he was asleep.

I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, feeling his weight against me.

Feeling the weight of my own decisions.

And I wondered—was this inevitable? Did I ever really have a choice?

Or had I been running in circles, only to end up exactly where I was always meant to be?