He tucked one side of Eve's hair before resting his hand behind her ear. He said, "Let me steal a little more of you." She gripped the front of his shirt as if, deep down in her heart, it was something she wanted. Closing the gap between their lips, he kissed her.
"I have been hanging on the trees in the cold," Vincent deadpanned, and he continued, "I would like to speak to your aunt about something. As she's important to you, I would like to take her blessings."
Eve stopped talking when Vincent placed his other hand on one side of her head. He stated, "You are right, we aren't friends as it is pointless to hold something that doesn't hold to be true." His words pierced through her heart. He then said, "Because being friends is not enough."
Vincent's eyes narrowed at the human, and a chuckle escaped from his lips, leaving the people confused. In a dead tone, he said to Patrick, "Genevieve Barlow is my woman. I don't think you understand what you did. No worries," he offered a spine-chilling smile, "I will make you understand it thoroughly."
Eve had never met a person as forward as Vincent. She had to remind her chest not to brew things and send thoughts to her mind. She watched him run his lean, long fingers on her palms and then press her fingers. But her traitor heart gave her away.
The creatures of night mingled within human society, fleeced in the wool of aristocracy, veiled in their portrayed innocence and nobility, their savagery continued to predate on the weak and powerless.