Steven’s POV

  I stepped out of Aqua’s apartment like I was escaping a room that didn’t let me process anything on my own terms.

  The hallway smelled like somebody else’s laundry and somebody else’s normal life. My footsteps sounded too loud on the stairs, like the building was listening—ready to ask me questions I couldn’t answer.

  “I’m going for a jog,” I’d told Aqua.

  It wasn’t a lie exactly.

  Not at first.

  Because I did need to run. I needed to move until my thoughts couldn’t keep up with me—until grief turned into something my body could carry instead of something that crushed my lungs.

  But the moment I hit the bottom of the stairs, my feet already knew where they wanted to go.

  Not the street.

  Not the beach.

  Not anywhere with people.

  The clearing.

  The second the morning breeze hit my face outside, my body didn’t drift toward the sidewalk.

  It turned toward the trees—toward the private patch of earth behind my old house that still felt untouched by fire, untouched by sirens, untouched by strangers staring at me like I was a tragedy.

  I pulled my hoodie tighter around myself as I walked, the fabric grounding me in something human while my chest stayed… too steady.

  Too awake.

  Like last night had flipped a switch under my ribs and my body hadn’t bothered to ask if my mind was ready for it.

  I shoved my hands into my pockets and kept going, letting the distance build between me and the apartment, between me and Katie’s closed door, between me and every decision that had already been made without my permission.

  Somewhere behind me, the world was still spinning.

  Somewhere ahead, something inside me felt quiet.

  Waiting.

  And by the time the trees swallowed the sound of town, I wasn’t jogging anymore.

  I was following an instinct.

  ---

  The forest air was cooler with the ocean breeze blowing through it.

  The clearing opened up like a private secret—open sky above, dirt under my shoes, trees lining the edges like silent witnesses.

  I stopped in the center and stared at my hands.

  Normal hands.

  Hands that had held ashes last night.

  Hands that… might not be normal anymore.

  “Okay,” I whispered. “Just… move.”

  I started with a jog.

  Slow. Controlled. Testing my breath.

  No burn.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  I pushed faster.

  Still nothing.

  My lungs filled cleanly like they were built for this.

  My heart picked up, but not in strain—more like excitement.

  Aqua was right. I thought to myself.

  I sprinted.

  And it felt like chains snapping one by one.

  My feet hit the ground faster than they should’ve.

  The world blurred at the edges.

  My body felt light—too light.

  Not tired.

  Not heavy.

  Not weak.

  Powerful.

  I slowed at the edge of the clearing, chest rising and falling like I should be winded.

  I wasn’t.

  I stared at my hands again, then jumped.

  A real jump.

  And my body launched farther than it should have.

  I landed soft, knees bending automatically, balance perfect like my muscles already knew the math.

  My mouth fell open.

  “What the—”

  I didn’t finish the sentence.

  I grabbed the nearest tree and hauled myself up.

  No shaking.

  No slipping.

  My arms didn’t scream.

  I climbed like I’d done it my whole life.

  I dropped back down, landing quietly, and just stood there—breathing, processing, unsettled.

  Because it wasn’t just strength.

  It was… readiness.

  Like something inside me had been asleep, and now it was stretching its limbs.

  And then I remembered what else I could do… Aqua had said Salvatores took love.

  And after what I’d just felt in my body…

  I could not test it.

  I didn’t want to.

  But curiosity was sharp and alive, and fear wasn’t enough to stop it anymore.

  So I walked back toward town with my stomach twisted tight.

  ---

  The café across the street from Aqua’s building looked the same as always.

  Warm lights.

  Coffee smells.

  Normal humans living normal lives.

  I went in and ordered three drinks—one for Aqua, Katie, and me—because if I was going to do this, I wanted it to look like I was just being helpful.

  Just being normal.

  I carried the drinks to my usual booth by the window and sat down for one minute, telling myself I deserved one minute before going back upstairs into the weight of everything.

  My fingers wrapped around my cup.

  My leg bounced under the table.

  I tried to breathe like a normal person.

  Then the café bell chimed.

  A couple walked in—early to mid twenties, laughing like they shared the same oxygen. The girl nudged the guy with her shoulder. He leaned down and kissed her temple like it was nothing.

  And suddenly—

  I saw it.

  Not with my eyes.

  With something deeper.

  Aqua had said humans had a pale glow around them, but then the edges lit up.

  Bright.

  Warm.

  Pink.

  My breath caught.

  My chest thumped hard—low and hungry—like something under my ribs had just smelled food.

  The couple slid into the booth behind mine.

  Close enough that their laughter brushed the back of my neck.

  Close enough that their happiness filled the space like perfume.

  They talked softly—private little jokes, affectionate teasing, the kind of conversation that made you feel like you were intruding just by being nearby.

  And the pink hue around them flared brighter with every laugh.

  My mouth went dry.

  I stared into my drink like I could drown the urge.

  I couldn’t.

  Because my Beast Core—whatever it was—resonated.

  A deep hum under my ribs.

  Not pain.

  Not heat.

  Magnetism.

  Pull.

  My throat tightened.

  I told myself: Don’t.

  I told myself: That’s not yours.

  I told myself: You’re just testing.

  And that was the lie my body used to justify what it wanted.

  I inhaled.

  Not like a normal breath.

  Like I was breathing in light.

  The pink aura trembled.

  Then—smooth as instinct—it streamed toward me in a faint invisible thread, slipping through the air like it had always known the way.

  It hit my chest.

  And my entire body lit up.

  Adrenaline surged through me so fast my fingers clenched around the cup lid.

  Bliss flooded my veins—clean, sharp, intoxicating.

  Energy coursed through me like I’d just taken the deepest, most perfect breath of my life.

  My senses sharpened.

  My mind cleared.

  My body felt… stronger.

  And I hated myself for how good it felt.

  I jerked my breath back in, forcing the pull to stop.

  Behind me, the couple kept talking.

  Still laughing.

  Still warm.

  Still unaware.

  They didn’t flinch. They didn’t look around. They didn’t even pause.

  They hadn’t noticed a thing.

  My stomach turned.

  Guilt rose like nausea.

  But the afterglow in my blood was so bright it tried to drown the guilt out.

  I swallowed hard, staring at the table.

  Just testing.

  Crossing the line.

  Liking it.

  Feeling bad for liking it.

  All at once.

  I stood quickly, grabbed the drinks, and left before the urge decided to take more than I meant to pull to myself.

  ---

  Crossing the street back toward Aqua’s apartment, the world looked sharper.

  Brighter.

  Like someone had turned the contrast up.

  And my hands—my normal hands—felt like they belonged to something that wasn’t normal at all.

  I climbed the stairs, heart pounding, drink tray steady in my grip, and one thought kept repeating in my head like a verdict I couldn’t undo.

  So this is what being a Salvatore is.

  And I hated myself for it—but I couldn’t stop wondering what it would feel like to take love… from someone I actually loved.

  Next Chapter: Steven is learning how hard it is going to be to stop his cravings.

  Side Note: I expanded Chapter 2 with a new second half—Aqua meets Steven’s mom before the town trip begins. It adds some important context (and some cozy “warmth first” vibes), so feel free to hop back and read it when you get a chance. ????