Cazaro didn't leave.

  For a while the apartment sat in a quiet pause after his laugh, the kind that happens when two people run out of things to say but neither one seems ready to go yet.

  The evening light had faded completely now, leaving the small lamp in my living room to do most of the work. It cast a warm yellow glow across the cheap furniture and chipped walls.

  Cazaro still looked slightly out of place sitting on my old couch.

  Too composed.

  Too calm.

  Like someone who belonged in marble halls instead of a cramped apartment that smelled faintly like overcooked pasta.

  I shifted awkwardly in the chair.

  "Do you want something to drink?" I asked.

  He looked up.

  "Water," I added quickly.

  Because obviously that was the only option.

  I walked into the kitchen before he could answer, opening the cabinet and grabbing one of the mismatched glasses sitting on the shelf. The faucet squeaked slightly when I turned it on.

  The sound filled the quiet apartment.

  I stared down at the glass as it filled.

  God.

  This was embarrassing.

  The leader of the entire government sitting in my living room, and the best hospitality I could offer him was tap water in a chipped glass.

  Because I had no money.

  The thought sat heavy in my chest again.

  Lost job.

  Church exile.

  Rent problems.

  All over one stupid article.

  I turned the water off and walked back into the living room, handing him the glass.

  "Sorry," I said automatically. "It's not exactly—"

  He took the glass without hesitation.

  "This is fine."

  I sat back down across from him.

  For a moment we both drank quietly.

  Then he glanced around the apartment again.

  "You do not have much," he said.

  I laughed softly.

  "That's a polite way to put it."

  He tilted his head slightly.

  "You said earlier you lost your job."

  "Yeah."

  "You will not need to worry about that now."

  I looked up at him.

  "You keep saying that."

  "Because it is true."

  I leaned back in the chair again.

  "You realize this whole arrangement still feels extremely strange to me."

  "I do."

  "And you're okay with that."

  "Yes."

  I studied his face for a moment.

  Then I asked the question that had been sitting in my mind all evening.

  "Why me?"

  The room went quiet again.

  The room stayed quiet after my question.

  Cazaro held the glass loosely in one hand, his gaze resting on me like he was considering how to answer.

  Finally he said, "Because you are a good writer."

  I blinked.

  "That's your reason?"

  "Yes."

  I leaned back in the chair slightly.

  "You could sponsor literally any writer in the country."

  "I could."

  "And yet here you are."

  "Yes."

  "That still doesn't explain it."

  Cazaro took a small sip of the water before setting the glass down on the coffee table.

  "You are bold," he said.

  "How so?"

  "You asked questions most people would not ask."

  I thought back to the interview.

  The way I had pushed him.

  The way Xavian had watched the whole thing with that amused look.

  "I'm a journalist," I said.

  "That is part of it."

  "And the other part?"

  His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer.

  Then he said something that caught me completely off guard.

  "You smell like cinnamon and vanilla."

  I stared at him.

  "What?"

  He didn't look embarrassed.

  "You noticed that?"

  "Yes."

  "That's part of your reasoning?"

  "Yes."

  I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped me.

  "You're telling me the leader of the entire government decided to claim a journalist because she smells like a bakery?"

  His mouth curved slightly.

  "That is an oversimplification."

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  I laughed again, shaking my head.

  "That might be the weirdest compliment I've ever received."

  "I meant it sincerely."

  "I'm sure you did."

  I leaned back again, still smiling a little.

  "Well," I said.

  "At least now I know my career advancement is apparently scent-based."

  Cazaro watched me with quiet amusement.

  I leaned back in the chair, still smiling a little from laughing.

  Cazaro looked faintly pleased with himself, like he had just given a perfectly reasonable explanation.

  Which meant he absolutely did not realize what I meant.

  Because when I said career advancement, I meant journalism.

  Not... whatever this was.

  But I didn't say anything.

  Of course I didn't.

  Correcting the leader of the entire government about sarcasm seemed like a risky hobby to start.

  Instead I tilted my head slightly.

  "So," I said.

  "Yes?"

  "Your brother."

  His eyebrow lifted slightly.

  "Xavian."

  "What about him?"

  I shrugged lightly.

  "What does he actually do for you?"

  The question made him pause.

  Not long.

  Just enough that I noticed.

  Then he shrugged.

  "He spends time with me."

  "That's not a job."

  "It is for him."

  I frowned slightly.

  "He just... hangs around?"

  "Yes."

  "That's it?"

  Cazaro leaned back slightly against the couch.

  "He observes things I do not notice."

  I thought about that for a second.

  That sounded suspiciously like someone whose entire job was watching people.

  "And besides," Cazaro added calmly, "little brothers tend to follow their older brothers around."

  That earned a small snort from me.

  "You're telling me the second most powerful vampire in the world is basically just your annoying younger sibling."

  "Yes."

  "That's oddly comforting."

  Cazaro tilted his head.

  "Why?"

  "Because it means even vampire politicians have family dynamics."

  He didn't look offended.

  Instead he said quietly,

  "You should see us argue."

  I shook my head a little.

  "I can't picture him mad."

  Cazaro looked mildly curious.

  "Xavian," I clarified. "He's always... sarcastic."

  "That is accurate."

  "And light," I added. "Like nothing actually bothers him."

  Cazaro considered that for a moment.

  Then he shrugged.

  "You would be surprised."

  "Really?"

  "Yes."

  I leaned back slightly in the chair.

  "I don't know," I said. "He seems like the kind of person who just laughs everything off."

  Cazaro picked up the glass of water again, turning it slightly in his hand.

  "Vampires are not so different from humans," he said.

  "That's not what most humans think."

  He gave a small shrug.

  "We have simply been around longer."

  I thought about that.

  Longer lives.

  More years.

  More time to see the same things repeat.

  "So everything just becomes less serious?" I asked.

  "In some ways."

  He took a slow sip of the water before continuing.

  "When you live long enough, many things begin to feel... temporary."

  That sounded strange coming from someone who ran the world.

  "So you don't get angry?" I asked.

  Cazaro set the glass back down.

  "No," he said calmly.

  "We still get angry."

  He looked at me then, his expression thoughtful.

  "Perhaps even more so."

  I raised an eyebrow.

  "Really?"

  "Yes."

  He leaned back slightly.

  "It simply takes more for us to reach that point."

  I thought about the way he had looked earlier when he talked about Zane.

  The tension in his jaw.

  The quiet way he had said I almost killed him.

  "Right," I muttered.

  Cazaro's gaze rested on me for another moment before he added,

  "We are just as emotional sometimes."

  The statement hung quietly in the room between us.

  For a moment neither of us spoke.

  The quiet in the apartment had settled into something calmer now, less tense than it had been earlier.

  Cazaro glanced at me again.

  "Your family," he said.

  I tilted my head slightly.

  "What about them?"

  "Do you have parents you speak to?"

  The question caught me a little off guard.

  I shook my head.

  "No."

  He waited.

  "My dad left before I could really remember him," I said. "So that one was easy."

  Cazaro didn't interrupt.

  "My mom..." I paused slightly. "She died when I was ten."

  His expression softened just a fraction.

  "I'm sorry."

  I shrugged faintly.

  "It was a long time ago."

  That didn't mean it didn't still sting sometimes.

  "But my grandma raised me," I added.

  Cazaro nodded slightly.

  "She sounds strong."

  "She was," I said, a small smile tugging at my mouth. "Terrifying sometimes, but strong."

  "What happened to her?"

  "She passed a few years ago."

  The words came out quieter.

  "She was the last one."

  Cazaro studied me for a moment.

  "So you are alone."

  I shrugged again.

  "I had my brother."

  Had.

  The word sat there for a moment.

  Cazaro noticed.

  "You do not speak to him anymore."

  It wasn't a question.

  "No," I said softly.

  "He left."

  The room grew quiet again.

  The silence lingered for a moment after that.

  Then Cazaro shifted slightly on the couch.

  "I was close with my father," he said.

  I looked up.

  The statement surprised me a little. He didn't seem like someone who shared personal details easily.

  "When I was younger," he added.

  I tilted my head slightly.

  "What about your mom?"

  He shook his head faintly.

  "Xavian was closer to her."

  That made sense somehow.

  "He was born when I was eight," Cazaro continued. "So things were... different by then."

  I frowned slightly.

  "Different how?"

  Cazaro rested his arm along the back of the couch again.

  "Xavian had a different father."

  "Oh."

  He nodded once.

  "That made things complicated for a while."

  I leaned back slightly in my chair.

  "Family drama," I muttered.

  "Yes."

  "So you were the serious older brother and he was the chaotic younger one."

  "That is a fair description."

  I studied him for a moment.

  "How old are you?" I asked.

  Cazaro laughed quietly.

  It was a real laugh this time, not the small amused ones from earlier.

  "I was thirty-one when I was turned," he said.

  I blinked.

  "That wasn't the question."

  "I know."

  I narrowed my eyes slightly.

  "So how old are you actually?"

  He tilted his head, clearly enjoying himself now.

  "Older than you."

  "That's not helpful."

  "No."

  I sighed.

  "You're impossible."

  "Yes," he said calmly.

  "And you still haven't answered the question."

  He just smiled faintly, clearly not planning to.

  I narrowed my eyes at him for another second.

  "You're avoiding the question."

  "Yes."

  "You're annoying."

  "I've been told."

  I let out a quiet huff and leaned back in the chair.

  "Fine," I muttered. "Keep your mysterious vampire age."

  Cazaro didn't look particularly bothered by that.

  Instead he watched me with that same calm curiosity he always seemed to have.

  It was strange.

  Moments like this almost made him feel... normal.

  Not like the leader of the entire government.

  Not like the man who had calmly admitted earlier that he had almost killed someone in my living room.

  Just a guy sitting on a couch in a small apartment having a conversation.

  And somehow that made it even stranger when I remembered what he actually was.

  "So," I said after a moment.

  "Yes?"

  "What did you do before all this?"

  His brow furrowed slightly.

  "Before being the leader."

  Cazaro leaned back against the couch again.

  "I traveled."

  "Just... traveled?"

  "To many places."

  "Like where?"

  He thought about it for a second.

  "Everywhere, really."

  I rested my chin on my hand.

  "That's vague again."

  "Yes."

  "You're very good at that."

  "I've had practice."

  I snorted quietly.

  "So you just wandered around the world?"

  "In part."

  "And the other part?"

  His gaze drifted briefly toward the window before returning to me.

  "I have always been very political."

  That didn't surprise me.

  "You enjoy it?"

  "Yes."

  "Even with all the chaos that comes with it?"

  Cazaro shrugged slightly.

  "Power tends to attract chaos."

  "That's comforting."

  "I didn't say it was pleasant."

  I studied him again for a moment.

  "You don't seem like someone who got dragged into leadership accidentally."

  "No."

  "So you wanted it."

  "Yes."

  He didn't hesitate.

  That honesty caught me slightly off guard.

  "And now you run the entire world," I muttered.

  "In a sense."

  I shook my head slowly.

  "You know what's weird?"

  "What?"

  "You sitting on my couch talking about global politics like it's a hobby."

  Cazaro smiled faintly.

  "You asked."

  I studied him for another moment.

  "You know," I said slowly, "the way you answer questions is kind of rude."

  His eyebrow lifted slightly.

  "Is it?"

  "Yes."

  I gestured toward him.

  "You give the shortest answers possible and then just sit there like that's a complete conversation."

  Cazaro shrugged.

  "I answered your questions."

  "Barely."

  "That is subjective."

  I leaned back again, crossing my arms.

  "You're the leader of the government," I said. "You'd think you'd be better at talking to people."

  "I am."

  "That's debatable."

  Cazaro looked faintly amused.

  "Vampires do not need to be polite."

  I blinked.

  "What?"

  "It is usually a waste of time."

  I stared at him.

  "You're serious."

  "Yes."

  "That explains a lot."

  "Such as?"

  "Such as why half the conversations I've had with vampires feel like interrogations."

  Cazaro tilted his head slightly.

  "Humans spend a great deal of time pretending."

  "Pretending?"

  "Yes."

  "About what?"

  "About what they think. What they want. What they mean."

  He leaned back slightly.

  "Politeness often hides the truth."

  I considered that for a moment.

  "That's... surprisingly insightful."

  "Thank you."

  "But it's still rude."

  Cazaro shrugged again.

  "That is an acceptable consequence."

  I shook my head.

  "You're unbelievable."

  "Yes."

  "And yet," I added, "you showed up at my apartment tonight to check on me."

  For the first time since the conversation started, Cazaro didn't answer immediately.

  He simply watched me.

  Then he stood.

  The movement was sudden enough that I straightened slightly in my chair without thinking. He crossed the small space between us in two quiet steps, stopping directly in front of me.

  I barely had time to react before he leaned down.

  His hand lifted, warm and steady as it cupped my jaw.

  The touch wasn't rough.

  But it wasn't gentle either.

  It was certain.

  Possessive.

  My breath caught slightly as his thumb rested just below my cheek.

  "You are mine," he said quietly.

  His voice had changed.

  It was lower now.

  Not teasing.

  Not amused.

  Just certain.

  "And I will always protect what is mine."

  The words settled heavily between us.

  "That is why I came over tonight."

  His eyes held mine for another second, dark and steady in the dim light of the apartment.

  Then his expression hardened just slightly.

  "Make no mistake," he continued.

  "If that boy bothers you again..."

  His thumb shifted faintly against my skin.

  "I will kill him."

  The threat wasn't loud.

  It wasn't dramatic.

  It was calm.

  Certain.

  Like he was stating a fact instead of making a promise.

  He straightened slightly, his hand still resting lightly against my jaw.

  "Like I said," he added.

  "Vampires aren't polite."

  Then the corner of his mouth curved faintly.

  "But I try to be civilized."