Page 12 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

The scent of wildflowers and honey wraps around me as I take my seat. Even the smell of the delectable food can’t overpower her fairy nature.

“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to be late, but my makeup always takes longer than expected.”

She lets out a soft, good-natured laugh. “It’s fine. Fifteen minutes doesn’t count as late.”

“That’s what I’m always saying!”

“It looks like we’re already finding some common ground.” Alana presses her lips together, like she’s holding back more of her sweet laughter.

“Looks like we are.” I lean in closer, tilting my head to the side.

“Your makeup looks wonderful, by the way. Very worth the extra time.”

Alana does nothing wrong, but…

I can’t say whether it’s the look she gives or the glistening light in her hair. A spike of panic runs through me. My smile becomes pained, and while I’m here for compliments, her words hardly register.

For several moments, I forget to respond.

“Why, thank you,” I say, holding my head higher. “Are you from Maine?”

“I am. My grandparents are from Ireland, but I grew up here.”

“Makes sense. I can’t say I’ve met a fairy before, and you seem otherworldly.”

“Ah. A lot of folks here haven’t…” She chatters on about visiting her grandparents in Ireland.

I would usually hang on to the information. I love hearing about people’s families and travels… but I can hardly pay attention to her now. Why?

She reminds me of someone. I can’t put my finger on who.

I push through my discomfort. “And have you met a vampire?”

She flushes pink and squirms in her seat. “Well, yes. I’ve met several, but I haven’t known one… intimately.”

“Aw.” I try to soften my smile. “Are you afraid of me?”

It’s ironic, considering that her mere presence sends shivers down my spine—and not in the way I would prefer.

The candlelight catches her hair, and my nails dig into the table, almost hard enough to break my sharp acrylics.

She shakes her head. “A little intimidated, that’s all. It’s not every day I spend time with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone so beautiful. You have such a classic beauty about you, and—I don’t know. Confidence, I suppose.”

She’s likely genuine, but the words feel hollow. They’re hidden by a layer of panic and confusion—and it’smine. My fear.

I’m the one ruining our dinner, and she doesn’t have a way of knowing.

“I’m nothing special. Being a vampire isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Strength, speed, beauty, and enhanced senses are nice. But is it worth the eternal damnation and the possibility of outliving everyone I love?”

The topic is too heavy for a first date, but the words roll off my tongue before I can stop them. She’s immortal. She should understand. I would rather die whenever Tobey does, I think. Existing forever is tiresome.

I don’t have to live forever, as it is. Dhampirs don’t have immortality, unless… well, I’m not sure how to gain it, but my father is, and I don’t really want to know what the immortality ritual requires.

She blinks, my words clearly catching her off guard. “Oh…”