Excerpt 1
Her eyes shifted toward her desk on her way to the kitchen, and her heart jumped against her ribcage as she saw more writing on her notepad.

Another letter. This one was longer.

Chloe was jolted awake once more, just as she had been the day before. The disquieting thought rammed through her sleepy head that the locks hadn’t worked. Without taking the time yet to read the letter, she checked the windows and the doors. Again, there was no sign of forced entry.

Chloe’s eyebrows furrowed as she thought it over. With the locks on the two doors, there was no way the intruder could have broken in, written that note, and then returned the locks to their original positions on their way out. The same went for the windows. How were they getting inside?

She sighed heavily and ran a set of long nails through her dark wavy hair, snagging on a few tangles at the back of her head. There was nothing she could do about it now. Perhaps there was nothing she could do to prevent this from happening time and time again. 

Shuffling to her desk, she sat down and read the perfect cursive writing, feeling mixed emotions as her eyes followed the words. 

I thought you would never go to sleep. I do not appreciate waiting. Next time, do us both a favor and get to sleep at an earlier time.

Chloe’s jaw dropped. Had they been watching her the whole night? They knew when she was still up writing? A cold chill ran up her spine at the thought of someone spying on her. Wrapping the robe around her chest a little tighter, she continued. 

As for your manuscript, I noticed you made the changes I suggested. Excellent work. You have a firm grasp of dialogue composition. Their conversations are believable. But, I do suggest that you avoid writing from the male point of view. This is not meant as an offense to you, but you obviously do not understand the inner workings of the male mind. As a writer, if you narrate strictly from the female’s perspective, you will sound more competent in the genre you have chosen. Nonetheless, your story is coming along just fine. I look forward to reading more. Yours sincerely – G

Chloe was stunned. She leaned against the slatted back of the chair and stared dumbly at the wall.

She didn’t know what to think. Whoever this was had noticed the changes as well as read through the additions she made the day before. Not only that, but they commended her for it and exonerated her dialogue style. She took no offense to their comment about writing from the male point of view. It was difficult and uncomfortable to put herself inside the male brain and try to figure out how their thought process worked. It had always been something of an impossible task, and she took no joy in it. 

Deducing from that comment alone, she assumed her mystery correspondent must be a man. Why else would he be so knowledgeable on how the male mind does or does not work?

If she adhered to this instruction, there were many changes she’d have to make to the story. There were several scenes with only her male protagonist present and his thoughts on the female. She’d have to change the whole book to an omnipresent perspective if she wanted to keep those scenes. But wasn’t that pretty much the same thing she was already doing?

Chloe groaned and held her head in her hands, propping her elbows on her closed laptop. She hated herself for taking these notes so seriously. The thought that a complete stranger was somehow breaking into her home, just to write these silly critiques, was far from her mind. All she could think about was obeying the suggestions as if his opinion was valid and worth her consideration. 

Then it occurred to her that she wasn’t writing for this stranger. She was writing for herself. Why did she have to change her entire story just to accommodate him, of all people? A stranger she had never met and was forcing his way into her home somehow without any trace or reason. 

Excerpt 2
“You needn’t change your schedule for my sake,” he said. She detected a quiver of a laugh in his voice, and it made her weak. “I would have preferred that you spend that time working on your novel.”

A frown formed between Chloe’s brows. He spoke as if he was her tutor or mentor rather than a colleague or—dare she think it—a friend. “Why is that so important to you?” she asked. 

Just as she finished her question, her clumsy hand made the serrated edge of the knife slip across the smooth skin of the tomato and straight into her left index finger. Blood had been drawn. 

Chloe hissed and dropped the knife in order to grip her finger. And all at once, the room began to spin. She wasn’t squeamish at the sight of blood, and the wound wasn’t deep enough to cause any debilitating pain. 

What made her feel faint was the knowledge that Gavin was in the cabin, and fresh blood had been drawn just several feet away. Chloe’s whole body trembled, knowing these few stuttered breaths may be her last. 

She had no idea what kind of control Gavin had over his hunger, and this was not part of her plan to find out. In fact, she never wanted to find out at all. 

Chloe turned and looked to Gavin, whose full attention was fixed on her. The lines on his face had gone hard, and his muscles tightened like a predator ready to pounce. But he didn’t pounce. Instead, he took gliding steps forward, his shoes finally making the soft tapping noise that she had expected to hear all along. 

As Gavin drew closer, she knew the smart thing would be to move away. Instead, she felt as if her body was not her own. Her legs moved without her bidding, turning her whole body to face him. And there she froze, fixated in one spot. 

Chloe had never experienced a heart attack, but she imagined it felt similar to what was going on in her body at that exact moment. Not only because of how intimidating Gavin was, but also how handsome and still unabashedly captivating. She felt her heart would explode with the intense feelings that swelled in her constricted chest. 

But she didn’t explode or even implode. She just stood there, shaking and holding her finger as blood oozed into her palm. 

Then she noticed a change in Gavin’s eyes. The once brilliant green was growing darker and darker until his irises were completely black and expanding out to plume over the white around it. He was nearly on top of her when she saw the red ring, as bright and fierce as a roaring flame, take the place of the green she’d come to love. 

What stared back at her were not the eyes of a handsome man but a vicious vampire. His lips parted ever so slightly and she could see his saliva glisten on his pointed fangs. 

If Chloe had any control whatsoever, she would have lost it completely anyway. If it weren’t for the mysterious force that kept her standing, she’d have fallen into a puddle on the kitchen floor.

She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think. Her core tightened for a few seconds as if to squeeze out the small tear that trickled down from the corner of her eye. She felt it glide over her cheek, cold and leaving a moist trail behind it. Could he see her cry? Did he care? 

He was so close now; close enough to see the pores on his skin. Would he bite her now? Rip out her throat? Or just suck on her finger until there was nothing left in her whole body? 

No. He did none of those things. Instead, he reached out and peeled back her hand that was holding her injured finger to reveal the mess beneath. Both palms were covered in her blood; the deep cut pounding sore and stinging. His touch was hot on her skin, burning and tingling with every stroke. 

He took her injured hand and eyed it with an otherworldly fascination as if he hadn’t seen human blood before. Perhaps he hadn’t. Or maybe it had been too long since his last human meal that he’d forgotten. 

Something broke the spell over his concentration, and Gavin looked towards the counter. There sat a roll of paper towels. He reached out and tore off a sheet, then began to clean up her wound. 

“Do you have a first aid kit?” he asked.