Vampire Kisses: The Darkness We Choose

Part 1: Chapter 1

The letter arrived on a Tuesday.

Trevor knew before he opened it.

That was the ridiculous part. The envelope sat on his desk like it had a pulse, cream-colored and expensive-looking in a way that made him want to set it on fire. His assistant had left it beside a stack of contracts, a lunch receipt, and an invitation to some rooftop launch party he had already decided not to attend. Her handwriting curled across his name like smoke.

Trevor Mitchell.

No return address.

As if he would not know.

As if the whole room had not changed the second he saw it.

For a long minute, he only stood there.

Outside his office windows, the city glared in late-afternoon gold, glass buildings catching the sun until everything looked too bright to be honest. Somewhere below, a horn blared. His phone vibrated facedown on the desk. He ignored it.

Raven Madison had always loved an entrance.

Apparently, she had learned to make an exit just as dramatic.

He picked up the envelope.

The paper was thick. Of course it was. Raven would not abandon a man with a cheap envelope. Even her cowardice had taste.

He slit it open with the edge of his thumb.

Inside was one paragraph, barely.

Not enough.

Too much.

Trevor read it once without breathing.

Then again, slower.

Then a third time, because rage had blurred the middle.

She was gone.

With Sage, presumably.

Trevor,

I don't know how to stay yet. I want to. That may be worse. I love you. I hate that you know me. I love that you know me. Don't look for me too quickly. Do look eventually.

And don't be smug.

Raven

She did not ask him to wait.

That was the part that almost made him laugh.

She did not ask him not to.

Raven had left him a loophole and called it mercy.

Trevor dropped the letter onto his desk and walked to the window.

For one ugly, electric second, he considered booking a flight. Not tomorrow. Not tonight. Now. He could find her. Sage had done this before and it was never long before Raven figured out where she was. She had always mistaken theatrical disappearance for invisibility, as if black eyeliner and a new continent were enough to erase her from the world.

He had contacts. Money. Friends in places that had friends in places. Someone had seen them board. Someone had booked the hotel. Someone had poured them vodka in an airport lounge and noticed the girl in black with the pale face and haunted eyes.

He could find her.

That was the ugly part.

Not easily.

But eventually.

Trevor stared down at the city until the windows reflected his own face back at him.

Cold. Still. Too composed.