Harley’s P.O.V.

The coffee shop smelled like roasted beans, cinnamon, and the kind of sugar that made you regret your choices, but never enough to stop.

I took a sip of my black coffee, tapping my fingers against the cup restlessly. Derek sat across from me, absolutely demolishing a triple-layered sandwich like he hadn’t eaten in years.

After hearing about Alex’s concerns, I called him for a meaningful conversation. Perhaps launching a complaint against a vampire for threatening innocent humans. But it seemed that my offer to cover the bill made him forget this case, as he had ordered everything on the menu.

He took a loud satisfying bite, crumbs...