It Started With A Vampire

Finally pt2

The set was quiet.

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that came when tension hung in the air like a storm that had been waiting too long to break. Filming had wrapped for the day — the cast had scattered, the crew had vanished, and only the dim glow of the studio lights lit up the lot. Most trailers were closed. Locked. Lights off.

Except Malachi's.

And Eva was standing in front of it, heartbeat hammering.

She didn't even know what she was doing here. Or maybe she did. Maybe she'd known since that moment backstage earlier — the one where their eyes met after a scene and neither of them could look away. Or maybe it was when PR had cornered her again and told her to "smile more with Jace." Or maybe it was the way Malachi hadn't said anything to her all day, just watched, jaw tight, eyes burning.

She knocked.

And when he opened the door, everything inside her cracked.

His curls were messy, damp from a shower. He had a hoodie on, sleeves pushed up, and he looked tired. But more than that — he looked like he'd been waiting for her.

"Hey," he said softly, moving aside.

Eva stepped in without speaking.

The door shut.

Silence.

He didn't ask what she was doing there, didn't ask why she wasn't with the others, didn't say a word. He just looked at her like she was already breaking his heart and healing it all at once.

She turned to him, standing in the middle of the trailer.

"I'm tired," she said finally. "Of hiding. Of pretending. Of pushing you away and pretending I don't feel everything when you look at me like that."

"Like what?" His voice was low.

"Like you're trying to remember what it feels like to kiss me."

He stepped forward, slow, careful, like any sudden move might ruin it. "I don't have to remember," he murmured. "I've never forgotten."

She didn't think.

She just moved.

One step. Two. And then she was in his arms — his mouth on hers — and it was instant. Fire. Hunger. Relief. Everything.

It wasn't soft.

It was months of build-up, of stolen looks, of near kisses and broken moments finally crashing down into one beautiful, chaotic mess.

Her fingers found the back of his neck, pulling him deeper. His hands gripped her waist, his breath ragged as he pressed her against the wall of the trailer.

"I shouldn't be here," she whispered between kisses. "I told myself—"

"I know," he breathed. "But I'm not letting you go again. Not tonight."

She didn't argue.

They kissed again. Harder. Longer. His hoodie fell to the floor leaving him in just his shorts. Her shirt slipped off. It wasn't rushed, but it wasn't gentle either. As his fingers slowly slid under the brim of her shorts. It was desperate. Real. All the things they'd been told not to be.

When they finally broke apart, gasping, foreheads pressed together, her lipstick was smudged and his fingers were trembling.

"This doesn't change anything," she said quietly.

"I know," he said. "We'll still lie tomorrow. Still play the game."

"But I needed this."

He nodded.

"I need you," he said.

Her eyes fluttered shut. "Me too."

They didn't sleep together. Not yet.

But they held each other until the morning light started to creep through the blinds, tangled together in the one place they didn't have to fake anything.

And for once, Eva Aniston didn't care if it all came crashing down.

Because for the first time in forever, it felt like she finally stopped running.

And Malachi?

He finally had her. Even if it was just for one night.

But something told her it wouldn't be the last.