Archive of Our Own

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

The thing is, that night, he could not help but stare.

It is peculiar, Colin thinks, as he has known Penelope for almost two decades now, and never before has he been this intrigued by the red of her lips. He has noticed before, of course, that soon after her presentation, it was difficult to see Penelope without that particular shade on her lips. It attracts the eye, such a vibrant red against her pale skin, luring gentlemen to lower their gaze to her mouth and then to her… well, bosom.

Colin is not vain, but he can still appreciate that his friend is well-gifted in particular areas.

And yet, over the years, Penelope has never had a single suitor or one that would stay longer than one dance. Perhaps it makes him a shallow friend, but Colin was pleased, for it allowed him to never lose his favourite person to converse and dance with so that these boring social events may pass in a blur. And it made him proud, as well, that of all the gentlemen of the Ton, he was the only one Penelope smiled at with graceful ease.

Penelope Featherington is now an old maiden in society’s eyes, at a mere eight and twenty of age. And yet, Colin thinks she has never looked this youthful and beautiful in her quiet confidence, so at peace with herself. Perhaps he sees her through a different light than anyone else, though he refuses to believe the gentlemen of the Ton can be this blind.

His brothers inquired about it once, when he was a mere one and twenty of age.

“Do you think her lack of suitors is your fault, brother?” Benedict asked. “For you are always near her and dancing with her.”

“As a friend does.”

“A friend, as you put it, does not constantly look at a lady's lips,” Anthony pointed out with a sneer.

“I—” Colin coughed. “I am not! It is just… have you not noticed… How peculiar the shade of her lipstick is?”

“No, because I do not spend the majority of my time staring at Penelope's mouth indeed,” Benedict responded.

Anthony snorted. “Shall we be expecting wedding bells in the not-so-distant future?”

Colin rolled his eyes, getting annoyed at his brothers’ unwillingness to be serious for a moment.

“I will certainly not be marrying Penelope Featherington, I can assure you as much.”

“I do not recall asking you to, Mr Bridgerton,” Penelope’s voice suddenly resonated behind him. When he turned around, she was standing by the door, leaning against its frame with a raised eyebrow, her cherry-red lips forming a thin, tense line. “And you two,” she continued, looking at Benedict and Anthony, “what business is it of yours? You who wield ladies’ hearts like mere toys?”

“Penelope—” the three brothers said simultaneously, only to be met with the lady’s dismissive hand as she waved their would-be apology away.

“I pity whoever you wed,” she said. “Now, where is Gregory?”

“Gregory?” Colin choked out.

“I agreed to help with his dance lessons but I cannot find him or your mother for the life of me,” Penelope huffed. “Never mind, I will find them eventually. Goodbye, gentlemen.”

She slammed the door behind her with little regard for the strength she used. When Colin turned back towards his brothers, they both had a dazed look in their eyes.

“Ah, forget what we said Colin, we now know why no gentleman has ever approached her,” Benedict said.

“Indeed, no man’s ego can handle such blunt wit,” Anthony agreed.

“Her lips are indeed rather—”

“Stop thinking about her lips!” Colin protested.

“Say you?”

Now, Colin watches as Penelope dances with Gregory in the middle of their mother’s garden party. Ever since Gregory entered society, he has been making sure to seek out Penelope for a dance. Penelope’s dance card only ever has two names these days — the two youngest Bridgerton men fighting for dominance on the small piece of paper.

That conversation, which happened years ago now, is but a meaningless memory, a strife in his and Penelope’s friendship that lasted only a week before they were back to exchanging barbs at any social event they attended together before Colin departed for his annual travels. However, ever since then, Penelope has insisted that her favourite Bridgerton man was now Gregory, and the latter has been insufferable bragging about it, even more so now that he can attend events as well and hog Penelope’s time away from Colin.

So yes, tonight, Colin is, for some reason, plagued by a distant memory and fascinated by Penelope’s lips.

Well. For a good reason, actually. His mind simply refuses to fully admit it, though his body and heart have, and he is already making his way towards the lady.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

On a peaceful evening, one night ago, to be more precise, Colin Bridgerton kissed Penelope Featherington.

She was invited to dinner at Number 5, along with her mother, though the latter was fortunately unable to attend. Well, perhaps that is a rude thought, but Colin never liked Portia Featherington or the rest of that family for that matter. He could never understand how sweet, beautiful Penelope could ever be related to them.

That evening, only his mother, Eloise and the two youngest were in attendance. It was quite the reminder to Colin that the rest of his siblings had been paired off, happily married.

He just did not expect the reason that Penelope was invited was because his mother expected Gregory to formally ask her for a courtship.

It was another brutal reminder that his baby brother was indeed four and twenty and most likely looking to secure a match of his own. Colin knew that, on an unconscious level. Gregory always held a puppy love crush on Penelope since he was old enough to understand what a crush was. Whenever Penelope visited, and if Eloise did not banish him to his chamber, Gregory would always happily follow the redhead girl everywhere. However, the idea that he was seriously interested in Penelope…

So he needed to know if the interest was mutual.

He found Penelope alone in the garden, by the pond. The full moon was reflected upon the calm water as she gazed at it, a forlorn expression on her face.

“No Eloise?” he inquired.

She barely reacted to his sudden appearance. “She said she had a headache and left me to fend for myself when your mother asked me if I had any intention to marry. Bless Violet but she has the subtlety of a brick wall.”

Colin snorted. “And what did you tell her?”

Penelope did not answer. She kept staring at the water as she bit her thumb’s nail. Then, after a while, she sighed.

“Colin, may I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he responded with no hesitation.

“Would…” She turned to him, eyes glistening in the night. Colin’s eyes immediately dropped to her lips, pursed as she deliberated her next words. Colin suddenly had the thought that she appeared to be asking for a kiss, paired with the way she was tilting her head up to look at him from under her lashes. “Would you kiss me?”

Did he hear that right?

“Penelope—”

“It would not have to mean anything,” she continued as if he did not speak. Her voice was strangely poised. “But to answer your question, I— even if the option was offered, I do not think I would take it. Marriage is… not something I can ever hope to achieve.”

“That is ludicrous, Pen. You’re only—”

“A spinster, and shall remain so,” Penelope interrupted. Colin’s heart sank, for reasons he had yet to understand. “But I… I remain curious. I do not wish to live the rest of eternity without ever having been kissed. I am on the shelf, I have nothing else to lose.”

And the truth was, at that moment, it was all Colin could think about. Kissing Penelope Featherington. A part of him thought — it made sense, why did he never think of it?

She reached for his face, her long nails scraping the stubble on his chin. Her eyes bore a dangerous and curious glint, cherry-red lips parted ever so slightly. Colin was mesmerised.

“Please?” she whispered.

Colin was only a weak man. He grabbed her hand in a firm grip and then cradled her cheek with his other one. She gasped, chest heaving as he leaned down until their breaths mingled. Colin observed, perhaps obsessively, every twitch of her face, the way her eyes fluttered before they closed under his intense gaze, how even after all these years, she still possessed a few freckles creating constellations on her face, how her lips, full and so very red looked ready to be ravished.

Finally, he closed the remaining distance between them.

And thus, on one ordinary evening, with only the moon as witness, Colin Bridgerton kissed Penelope Featherington.

He wished he could describe it as a revelation, a world-stopping event changing the trajectory of his life. In truth, the press of her tender lips against his was like a missing piece of his heart falling into place, an inevitability from which he finally stopped running from. Kissing her was like coming home.

He pulled back, if only for a moment, to see her expression. She looked divine under the moonlight, her pale skin seemingly glowing under his fingertips. She looked serene, dazed, and dare he hope, in love. Her blue eyes met his with unwavering certainty and she smiled.

“Thank—”

Before she could finish, Colin brought their lips together again, perhaps with more force than he intended to.

She wanted to say thank you as if this were a mere favour? He could not let her think that for one moment.

She gasped, hands flailing for a moment, before they rested around his neck, scraping the ends of his hair and sending shivers down his spine. He hummed, moving his mouth against her, guiding her into a gentle rhythm until hesitation turned into instinct.

The kisses, relentless and lingering, grew deeper and deeper. After what felt like hours, he could not help but bite gently on her lower lip, eliciting a delicious moan from Penelope. However, before he could get a proper taste of her mouth, he hissed at a sudden sting on his upper lip. An iron taste slipped into the kiss as Penelope pressed closer, and Colin felt helpless to indulge in her eagerness.

Then suddenly, Penelope pulled away with a gasp, her hands flying to cover her mouth. “I must go!” she said, voice muffled by her palms as she flew away before Colin could say or do anything to stop her.

It was like he came back to his own body. He realised then how flushed his face was despite the chilly air, the way his fingers, which were caressing Penelope’s skin a moment earlier, were now trembling into the sudden emptiness, how his heart was fervently beating, loud and obnoxious in his ears, how he was bleeding. The upper right corner and lower left corner of his lips stung against the cold air due to the cuts suddenly there.

Penelope, in her eagerness, bit him. Several times. And he was too enchanted to even realise properly. Colin swiped a small trail of blood trickling down his chin and found himself smiling like a maniac.

Lord, he enjoyed the sting.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Colin finds Penelope under the wisteria, sipping some wine, though she looks rather displeased about it. Her eyes focused on the dancers, she did not notice Colin approaching until he called her name.

“Pen,” he greets casually. She hums in response. “Would you perhaps wish to swap drinks?” he asks, offering the glass of champagne in his hand.

“That is kind, Colin, but believe me when I say you do not wish to taste what I have in my hand.”

Colin blinks. “Uh… Is it not wine?”

Penelope seems to startle back into reality as she shakes her head and offers him a strained smile. “It is. Of course, it is, what else would it be?” She laughs nervously.

“Are you alright, Pen?” A pause as she does not answer. “Is it because of what happened between us?”

“... I bit you, it was embarrassing.”

“I enjoyed it,” he admits, perhaps a bit too easily.

She snorts, quite the ungraceful sound, but she does not say anything else, visibly refusing to acknowledge their kiss any further. Colin swallows. He’s never felt nervous around Penelope before and yet at this moment, he feels quite small under her sharp gaze.

Clearing his throat, he decides to take another approach. “You know, Pen, I have never seen a lady with such loyalty to a shade of lipstick.” Gaining some of his usual confidence back, he leans forward, playfully inspecting her mouth as Penelope gazes at him with parted lips. “One would almost believe it to be… permanent.”

A dangerous glint now gleams in Penelope’s eyes. He can see her think, and weigh the choices now drawn before her. And then—

“It is not lipstick,” she says before taking a sip of her drink. “And this is not wine.”

“Very funny Pen—”

“I am not jesting,” she interrupts, her voice suddenly sounding lower, raspier as if a pretence has been thrown away. She tilts her head, enough so that their breaths mingle. Colin’s vision blurs, focused on her red-stained lips. Vaguely, he notes that he indeed cannot smell any wine. “Colin. There is a reason suitors do not last.”

She smiles, revealing her white teeth and among them two long, sharp canines. Colin gasps, but before he can even comprehend the sight, she clicks her tongue, pulls back, and finishes the rest of her drink. She grimaces and looks ready to empty her stomach.

“Ugh. You have ruined me, this tastes like dirt now,” she says, which makes no sense at all. “I will be taking my leave. Good night, Colin.”

“Wait—”

In what feels like a blink of an eye, Penelope runs out of sight, disappearing among the guests and the flowers.

He got an answer to his curiosity — yet one he is not sure he understands.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

While he was travelling in Europe, Colin came across many books he could unfortunately not read. Many, he brought back for Eloise and Penelope, as they were better versed in other languages than he could ever be, some others he kept for himself, to add to his collection.

(They look rather pretty on his shelves, after all.)

For one such book currently staring back at him, he recalls an old German bookseller telling him that the story involved a man, or creature rather, dead among the living, drinking blood to survive. A creature that remains, never ageing, never changing. He remembers laughing, praising the author’s imagination, although the bookseller did not join him and simply asked if he wanted to purchase it — the original, and a special English translation.

He gave the original to Penelope, and the thought of her, and their last conversation, naturally brought Colin back to this publication. The book’s English translation is now in his hands. It is a collection of poems and short stories, rather than a proper novel, simply signed A Timeless Author. Within, indeed, he reads tales of beings of unnatural origin. A man who can turn into an animal, a woman rising from the dead to protect her dear husband, another woman luring men to their doom within dark woods, feasting on their blood.

The sensual nature of these short tales makes him squirm a little. There was an odd intimacy at play in those scenarios, this need to feed from another, to do so in such proximity, joining pain and pleasure at once.

Colin laughs, albeit a bit weakly, then puts the book back down, and rejoices once more in the imagination humanity holds.

Why did he even entertain for one moment that Penelope could be one such being? These things… vampires, as the Timeless Author coined them, do not age, forever stuck in a past they can no longer reach and hiding away from the sun, but Colin grew up with Penelope. He would forever remember the tiny nine-year-old who apologised profusely for making him fall from a horse in broad daylight, only to laugh at him afterwards when he was unable to remove some dirt and grass from his curls. He saw Penelope go from a sweet and shy girl to the confident and witty woman she now is.

Her odd behaviour at the garden party surely is a simple manifestation of her fatigue.

Colin sighs deeply as he looks at himself in the mirror, inspecting his mouth. The cuts are almost fully healed already, though it still hurts a little. He who hoped for another kiss tonight may simply need to make his intentions clearer. With a nod to himself, he decides that the next day he shall call on Penelope and court her. Make her believe that marriage is not such a ludicrous idea for her. Prove that he no longer was the stupid one-and-twenty boy who could not even admit how oddly obsessed with her he was. How that obsession made him run, over and over again.

When he turns around, he almost screams.

Penelope stands before him in his dimly lit bedroom. She is dressed in a delicate white nightgown that hugs her generous figure wonderfully. Her long, luscious curls cascade down one shoulder, framing her face in an effortless yet sensual way as she gazes at him with bright eyes. There is a quiet confidence in her appearance as she continues to stare, the hint of a smile tugging at her red lips. The picture of innocence and temptation combined.

“Pen! What—”

“Ssh,” she shushes him, and in the blink of an eye, she now stands mere millimetres away from him. Before he can even exhale, she guides him towards the bed, and Colin follows until the back of his knees hits the mattress. As he sits, Penelope nudges his legs open so she may kneel between them. She rests their foreheads together as she whispers, “I need…” Her small hands wrap around his nape.

All the confusion leaves him at once, thoroughly distracted by the cool feeling of her fingers against his skin. She’s not wearing gloves, he realises with elation. Bless his vivid imagination. He closes his eyes, fully indulging in the fantasy, as he becomes Penelope’s ever-so-obedient servant. “What do you need?” he asks.

One of her hands slowly slides to his jaw, thumb caressing the small scar on his chin. Their lips brush as she tilts his head.

“Your heart.” She pauses. The words ‘it is all yours’ form all too easily in Colin’s head. “It is oh so very loud.”

“Is it?”

Penelope hums, eyes flashing red for a brief moment. “I want another taste,” she rasps then her lips are on his.

Instinctively, he wraps an arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him, while he cups her face with his free hand. She is much more eager as she melts against him, nails scraping his skin. This kiss is messier, more urgent, and full of hunger. Colin groans, growls, even, as Penelope cradles his face with a tenderness he has never experienced before.

And then she bites his lower lip.

Colin hisses, the sting feeling much too real for a dream. Penelope pulls back, but unlike the last time, she does not run or apologise. Her lips, plump and full, glisten in the dim light. Colin searches her eyes, but she is not looking at him, blue eyes fixated on his lips before they drift to his neck.

She smiles, and Colin catches a glimpse of fangs hidden behind those alluring lips. Perhaps by instinct, he cranes his neck, watching as a spark lights up in Penelope’s eyes. One of his hands finds its way to Penelope’s shoulder, palm barely an inch away from her exposed bosom. She inhales sharply, encouraging the movement until he can cup her ample breast through her sheer dress. He leans down, squeezing and peppering kisses where he can, shy of tearing her dress apart as desire burns within his heart.

“Let go, darling,” he encourages and Penelope wastes no time, throwing herself at him with such force he falls into the mattress, her mouth connected to the base of his neck.

And…

And then he is suddenly gasping, waking to an empty bed as the sun shines brightly through his curtains. His hand flies to his neck, feeling it bare and devoid of any marks.

His mouth still tingles, however.

(And something else.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Colin keeps to the promise he made to himself and calls on Penelope that very afternoon. Unfortunately, she is not home and Lady Featherington is thoroughly unhelpful in providing him with her whereabouts, before dismissing him. Eloise is of no further help, although his sister has been oddly distracted lately anyhow.

To his dismay, Gregory is the one giving him the information he needs.

“Pen?” Colin cringes at the nickname spoken by his brother’s lips. “Oh! Every Wednesday she is at the orphanage in Bloomsbury. She reads to the children.”

“Alone?” Colin inquires. “Is that not dangerous?”

“You and I both know we cannot tell her what to do,” Gregory laughs. “I am surprised she has not told you.”

“Well… me too.”

His brother gives him a pitying look and in that brief moment, he looks exactly like Anthony. Colin looks away and then sighs.

“I might as well ask… have you noticed something odd about Penelope? Lately?”

Gregory tilts his head. “She has been… jumpy for the past few days, I suppose. She almost stepped on my feet several times when we danced, which never happens, she’s a rather excellent dancer after all. In fact, she has been rather distracted ever since that dinner.” Colin tenses. “Did you do something?”

“Why do you think I did?”

“Are you seriously asking me this?”

“Would you stop answering my questions with another question?”

“You started it!”

“And you continued.”

One would wonder which one of them is the actual youngest.

“Colin,” Gregory says after a bit, “Pen… she has stopped waiting, you know?”

Colin frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Just that… she told me she was tired of hoping, whatever that meant. I asked her once why she had not left London if she truly had given up on finding a husband.”

“... And what did she say?”

“She should tell you herself. But I think you already know.” Gregory gives him a one-shoulder shrug then waves his hand. “And for the record, you are right, her lips are a particular colour, aren’t they?” He smiles, not-so-subtly adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, drawing Colin’s attention to them.

Colin’s heart skips a beat as he notices two small punctures at the base of his younger brother’s wrist before Gregory quickly covers it back. When their eyes meet again, Gregory is still smiling, pride radiating from his face.

“Gregory…”

“It turns out, you do not need to travel far to discover the most incredible things.” Gregory pats his shoulder. “It was a favour, do not worry, no one was ruined. Good luck, brother.”

He promptly walks away, with a bounce to his steps, leaving Colin to stare at the carpet. He brings a hand to the juncture between his neck and shoulder, a phantom pain suddenly assaulting his skin and yet, he is certain that there was no mark when he looked intently at himself in the mirror. Therefore, last night must have been a dream.

Wasn’t it?

(When he goes to the orphanage, Penelope is not there. Colin has the sudden odd urge to cry out of frustration.)

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Finding time alone with Penelope becomes surprisingly difficult after that, in fact, she disappears from social events, and neither Eloise nor Gregory have any answer for him for they do not know of her whereabouts either. It is as if she is avoiding him during the day but haunting his dreams every night, it is starting to feel like proper torture, rather than moments of ecstasy.

For every time it seems he is finally about to feel her around him, to drink her in, even if it is only a figment of his imagination, he bloody wakes up.

Penelope has always been a constant in his life, his sister’s ever-so-loyal friend, but honestly, his closest friend as well. And he feels like she is slipping through his fingers.

Tonight, he does not wait in bed with his eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. Instead, he sits at his desk, fiddling with his quill, when the Penelope of his dreams appears before him between two blinks, as she has done almost every night now. She seems surprised by the slight change of setting as she makes her way towards him, the fabric of her nightgown swaying with her movement, akin to the peaceful waves of the sea at night.

“Writing tonight?” she asks softly.

“You make me feel like I have gone mad,” he replies. “Penelope, what are you doing to me?”

For a brief moment, Penelope tenses, guilt flashing in her crystal blue eyes as she takes a step back. Then, she shakes her head.

“I am not doing anything. Right now anyhow.”

“Pen.”

“... You sound tired, perhaps it is better that you rest.” She raises a hand then but before she can touch him, he grabs her wrist, stopping her movement.

“So I am not sleeping,” Colin says, dark eyes boring into her startled ones. “This is real. It has been real every time and yet I cannot remember.”

Penelope laughs, a sound that is meant to be humorous yet Colin can detect a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Do not be silly. How would the real Penelope even be able to sneak into your room at night?”

It has been something he wondered about in moments when doubts would creep into his mind. Especially as he moved into new lodgings in Bloomsbury, and the dreams still kept occurring.

But if he throws all sense of rationality out the window…

“It would be impossible indeed… if you were truly only a woman. But you are not, are you?”

A derisive smile graces her crimson lips. “You did say once I did not count as a woman.” He winces at that. Not his greatest moment. “And you were so unknowingly right.”

Her demeanour changes, as if finally giving up the pretence. She shakes his hand off with a huff, then massages her wrist.

“So you are… a vampire.”

Penelope looks confused for a few moments. “Oh! The book you gave me, right? I had a good laugh at the inaccuracies. Incredible what writing can do, makes this sound so… fantastical. But… asking for that kiss was the biggest mistake of my unfortunate life,” she says then, not meeting his eyes. “Ever since that night, ever since I got a taste, I have been drawn to you. That first night— it was a guttural hunger I could not deny. I’ve fed from others before but this… one drop from you and it was like I was not myself. It was terrifying.”

She has fed from others? Of all things, Colin’s mind cannot help but stay stuck on that information, feeling his insides churn with anger.

“I stopped before I could give in completely. I could not do that to you, so I made you sleep instead,” she continues. Colin’s confusion grows— she can simply make him fall asleep? “And you believed it to be all a dream, so I said nothing, it was easier than to explain this.” She shows off her teeth then, two long fangs glistening under the moonlight. Colin’s heart picks up.

“So you never… bit me.”

“Well, I did, while we kissed, accidentally, which did nothing to satiate my thirst. Now everything tastes… bland.”

A pause. Colin sets his quill aside. “And if I said you can? Bite me, that is, drink from me.”

Penelope regards him as if he were the abnormal one. “Have you gone mad?”

“I may have,” he admits. “But this is clearly affecting you and I cannot help but feel like it is my fault.”

“So simply because you feel guilty you would let a monster drain your blood?”

“You’re not a monster! And you would not do anything to harm me, would you?”

“You have no idea what I have done over the years, Colin. You have no idea who stands before you.”

A shiver runs down his spine at her words, spoken in that low, raspy voice he is not accustomed to.

“Perhaps that is right. But one thing I know is that you are still Penelope Featherington, my dearest friend, and the alluring presence that won’t leave my mind.”

“Colin…”

“Come on.” He beckons her closer, and though she looks hesitant, she wastes no time to round his desk. As soon as she is within reach again, Colin grabs her arm and gently coaxes her into sitting on his lap. She goes surprisingly willingly as if the fight in her vanished after a touch. “Let go, darling. Properly.”

Penelope’s mouth hangs open for a moment, in such an adorable expression of awe and relief that Colin cannot help but steal just one chaste kiss. She chuckles against his mouth, her fangs gently teasing him before she pulls back. One of her hands grabs his chin so he cannot seek another kiss and he pouts.

“This might hurt. Actually, it will hurt,” she warns and yet Colin feels a thrill at the idea. “I—” Her hands tremble slightly as she traces the spot at the base of his neck, hunger swimming in her eyes. “I will not take too much.”

“I trust you.”

She nods. Painfully slowly, she lowers her head, lips brushing along his cheek and then his neck before she settles on the spot she has been caressing. Colin’s hands settle on her waist, feeling the rolls of her body pressed warmly against him. Then he feels them— her teeth on his skin.

He shivers, feeling her hesitation. He caresses her side, encouraging, gentle. He feels her smile but has no time to feel satisfaction as she finally bites. He groans, his grip strengthening around her, he worries he may have imprinted bruises on her porcelain skin. He can feel it, somehow, the blood draining from him, right into Penelope’s very being.

Her body feels warmer against him as the seconds pass. Colin’s vision blurs as something else stirs within him. His heart is beating fast, obnoxiously loud in his ears, and he realises that his member is sure starting to take interest.

At that moment, Penelope stops. He hisses as her fangs leave his neck, exposing the open wound to the cold air. She shushes him, a hand perhaps instinctively going against his mouth as she laps at the wound, gathering every small hint of blood left on his skin.

Their eyes meet again, Penelope’s blue orbs shining with mirth. But then, she tilts her head in confusion. She must see the lust in his eyes, Colin reckons, as he breathes deeply and cannot help but move his hips, grinding against Penelope’s thighs.

“Oh. Poor you,” she says sweetly.

“Pen…” he mumbles against her palm.

“Let me return the favour.”

He is confused for a moment before her free hand travels down his body towards his belt. With an expertise that makes him squirm at the implication, she unbuckles it and brings his cock into the cold spring air. Colin groans.

“Mm. My… victims usually are just terrified, or indifferent. But you… you liked it.”

She grins, her small hand wrapping around his girth with no hesitation. Finally, she frees his mouth as well and Colin wastes no time in bringing their lips together. She gasps as he licks into her mouth, tasting the iron of his own blood on her lips, on her tongue, everywhere.

He moans, openly, freely, as she starts to rub him up and down, a little clumsy, but enthusiastic nonetheless. Penelope sighs against his mouth, pleased, relieved, happy. Her newly freed hand settles on his heart, feeling it beat quicker and quicker, matching its rhythm with her strokes.

Colin pants as he feels his orgasm rush to him with embarrassing speed. With one brush of her thumb on his slit, he lets go, ecstasy blinding his senses as he comes in her hand.

“Thank you,” she says, looking indeed all replenished, skin glowing and eyes bright. She licks the traces of come sticking to her fingers while Colin is still finding his breath. “Sweet dreams, Colin.”

This time, as his mind turns to darkness it feels all too natural, with the honey scent of Penelope surrounding him.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

The days, or rather the nights, go on. Penelope does not visit every night, but when she does, Colin finds himself speechless, getting lost in her touches, the alluring taste of her mouth, and the feel of her skin and body around him.

They still do not talk. Colin still has many questions, and many fears about the nature of their encounters, all of which get drowned by pleasure and crimson lips, before they resurface at the same time the sun rises and Penelope vanishes, leaving in her wake only the trace of her lips on a letter on his desk, proof that what they shared was indeed real.

Finding her during the day remains a hassle. When he calls on her, she is never home, and when he catches a glimpse of her at Number 5, Eloise quickly steals her away, with no regard to Colin’s requests, and the two disappear for hours on end.

On Wednesdays, he could follow her to that orphanage, but she has never shared this with him, and it would feel… odd, insensitive, even, to show up at such a place only to try to speak with her.

Therefore, Colin finds himself in his younger brother’s company once more.

“Well, you look gloomy again,” Gregory comments as he slides a glass towards him. Colin catches it swiftly.

“It is still very weird to think you are old enough to be here, by the way.”

“You are deflecting.”

Colin sighs. “And you are annoying.”

“And I had you as my role model, so who’s to blame?”

“Anthony.”

Gregory rolls his eyes.

“How come she… bit you?” Colin asks eventually after several beats of silence. “How did you even find out?”

“The whole family knows, we’ve been helping her get, well, the blood she needs.”

“Excuse me?!”

Gregory puts his hands up in defence. “I figured you knew too! Otherwise, why would you be so fixated on her lips?”

“Why did no one tell me?!”

“Not sure, it was not exactly a secret. You’re just… never here.” Colin winces at that. “And now you are.”

“That still does not answer my question. She fed from you?”

“I offered. So did Eloise. We have matching marks on the wrist, though they usually heal after a few months, Pen does not need blood as often as we need food. She also refused anyone else’s blood, since they’re married.” Colin does not comment on the fact Hyacinth is left out. “But we helped… other ways as well.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Gregory purses his lips before taking a sip of his drink, stalling the answer. Colin keeps staring, a sense of both foreboding and thrill running through his veins.

“Did you not find it peculiar that some of the most notorious rakes of the Ton all mysteriously disappeared after one dance with her?”

You have no idea what I have done over the years, Colin. You have no idea who stands before you.

Colin finds himself short of breath.

“I… no one noticed?”

“Oh, you know, a rumour of a hunting accident tends to do the trick. No one ever suspects the quiet Featherington or the esteemed Bridgertons. I suppose we must thank our family's reputation.”

The older Bridgerton inhales sharply. Something stirs within him, and he would rather not acknowledge it with Gregory sitting right there.

“You said she does not need blood often but…” he croaks out, barely quenching his sudden thirst by downing his whole drink in one go. Fortunately, Gregory does not notice.

“Actual human blood? At least once every six months, she said. So right about the beginning of the social season and then at the end, unless she wants more. I thought you two talked?”

“It is not so much talking that we do…” Colin mumbles. Penelope finds her rightful place on his neck, takes, gives, and then leaves.

But if she does not need his blood as often as she seems to crave it as soon as they are safe within the closed space of his bedroom…

Gregory scrunches his nose. “I will pretend I did not hear that.”

Colin shrugs one shoulder. “You heard worse from our older brothers.”

“Do not remind me. I still cannot look Kate or Sophie in the eyes sometimes.”

He smiles against his glass. At least, in this ever-changing and confusing world, he finds some familiarity in teasing his brother.

Although he and the rest of his family have hidden pretty significant information about his best friend from him.

One day, he will get back to them. But for now…

“I suppose we will see more of you in the future? Are you staying?” Gregory asks, and somehow the question feels loaded.

“For a very long time, indeed. If she will have me.”

Gregory smiles. “Rooting for you, brother.”

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Penelope is not a brave woman, or at least she does not believe herself to be one.

In her eight and twenty years of life, she has let life pass her by with passive interest. It was difficult to do otherwise when her father sat her down in early childhood to tell her how unfortunately different she was from her sisters because she just so happened to inherit his curse.

“When you will come of age, another type of hunger will rise within you. Do not worry, the staff is already aware and will be prepared.”

“What about Mama?”

“Your mother… would rather ignore that our condition exists. Do not worry, little one, I will be here to guide you. We will have all of eternity.”

But then her father was killed during her first year out in society — so much for eternity with him, she lamented. Publicly, it was said to be a heart attack, her sisters still believe that lie to this day but Penelope knew better. Her father was a notorious gambler, and an excellent one, though his vampiric attributes were to his advantage. With an acute hearing, he could easily tell when an opponent was nervous, adapting his plays accordingly.

And what is more fragile than a man’s ego? Not much, truly. That is how Archibald Featherington found his demise at the hands of prideful men.

Penelope figures she must be at least grateful that their secret was not revealed to the light. As her father had predicted, her mother largely ignored Penelope’s vampiric attributes, pushing her motherly duties onto Mrs Varley who, fortunately, had kept her father’s journals where he detailed how life would be for her. Portia was too relieved to keep her youngest daughter hidden, at the end of the day.

Therefore, Penelope learned about herself through her father’s quill and the books she could find on the subject, dedicating most of her early years in society to adapting to her own body, rather than engaging in the marriage mart. And thus, a wallflower she became, not that she wished for anything else.

Love, for beings like her, is a fickle thing, her father wrote. It never lasts, he assured, and the promise of eternity is but a lie from a mortal’s lips. She knew her parents never truly had love for each other the way Lady and Lord Bridgerton had, but reading the resentment in her father’s writing, as well as seeing the barely hidden disgust in her mother’s eyes, was a brutal reminder of that reality.

The marriage was only convenient. She needed a rich match, I needed a family to blend into London society. I also needed an heir. She understood it as a male heir to the Barony. I meant an heir to my true heritage.

It did not stop her from falling in love, though she was quick to put those feelings aside. Nothing could ever come out of it — outside of her feelings being an unrequited fantasy, she was doomed to live many years more than whoever her heart may yearn for. In the end, only heartbreak would meet her. In the end, she would always be the one to say goodbye.

She made her peace with that.

The Bridgertons decided against it, though. First Eloise, and the rest soon followed, became privy of her secret early on. It was a secret too big for her to keep, especially with her urges becoming more frequent as her body fully developed and she needed to sneak away from events before she jumped on a poor guest.

They accepted her with surprising ease, even when she also shared her desire to avenge her father’s death.

Perhaps it was her thirst for blood speaking that day, but once the idea was spoken out loud, she knew she needed to see it through to the end. And the list was quite long.

Perhaps she should have been worried at how eagerly Eloise, Daphne and Francesca — and later Gregory and Hyacinth when they were old enough — were to help her lure the unsuspecting rakes of the Ton. Even Violet seemed ecstatic, meanwhile, Anthony and Benedict seemed more reluctant — perhaps because they once would have been within Penelope’s targets, but they wisely looked away and pretended to be clueless about the ordeal.

The family’s reputation and Penelope’s talent at blending into the crowd and disappearing made it easier to pass those mysterious deaths as mere accidents of fate.

The same way her father’s death had been reported.

Life was not perfect, but Penelope was content. Over the years, the Bridgertons dispersed, finding the loves of their lives and moving away from London. Soon, only Eloise, Gregory and Hyacinth remained. Penelope knew that the next time she blinked, they could all be gone.

And then there was Colin.

Her Colin, she liked to think once. The first Bridgerton she met, riding that horse she inadvertently made him fall from. It was a miracle no major injury was sustained, although he bled through his sleeves and it made her pre-teen self swallow with guilt and, Lord forbid, hunger. But then, he laughed, and her heart burst open.

She knew from that moment on that whatever years she would get to live, Colin Bridgerton would forever haunt her as her first, and perhaps her only love.

It was almost a blessing that out of all his siblings, Colin was the one who developed a love for the outside world soon after entering society, so she rarely ever saw him as the years went on, especially after hearing him declare so loudly that he would never marry her to his brothers. It was easier that way — she had no intention of marrying anyhow, even if she did not have those feelings torturing her heart. She could not. She refused to live like her parents. She would be content disappearing one day into the countryside as an oddly old spinster that people write tales about. Her father had left her a significant inheritance, separate from the Featherington Barony, that would allow her to run elsewhere and build a new life.

For all his faults, he at least made certain that she had the choice of living a different life than the one he had for himself.

And yet, she remained in London, because every year, without fail, Colin came back for the social season, and would always seek her out at every event. He would dance with her, make her laugh, call her special, and so very dear to him. It was enough to make a woman hope, and hope is one dangerous weapon, especially one she knew with no use in the end.

Therefore, she made her decision. This year would be her last, and soon she would forsake the name Featherington to start a new life.

I’ve had many names over the years, ones I cannot remember any longer. Her father wrote. No place ever felt like I belonged, therefore I kept moving. Eventually, London became… something interesting and Portia was an unusual and intriguing woman. I stayed. I believed I could settle. But I knew, that if one of our children turned out to be like me, that one day, I would leave again, this time just not alone.

She told Eloise, who smiled and promised to visit and join her as soon as her mother would finally stop hoping she might still find a match. Hyacinth hugged her and made her promise to write every week. Gregory jokingly proposed to her to make her stay and Penelope pinched his cheek for his adorableness.

She could not find the courage to tell Colin. A part of her simply assumed he would not care anyhow, he who is so little in London. And yet, that evening, perhaps it was Violet’s question about settling down that made her ache again, but she let go of her fears and doubts. When Colin sought her out in the garden, she asked for the one thing she always craved for, because over the years, somehow, she had never been kissed.

She did other things, to lure rakes into the dark woods near Aubrey Hall. Men are easy creatures, she had learned, a caress down there, a seductive smile and a slightly lower voice, and they fall like autumn leaves. The perfect distraction before she could lunge and drain them. They are all driven by lust, which makes their blood all the sweeter before it turns dull as fear overtakes them. They were so eager to get pleasure, and not so much to give or share, which is why they made such easy targets as well.

Penelope still craved the taste of a sweet kiss, though, and if she had to spend the rest of her long life alone, she wanted to experience it at least once. Perhaps it would be her biggest regret.

She could not predict the next turn of events. She knew her crush never truly vanished, but she did not expect her body to sing for him. Instincts took over and to her surprise, it was a different kind of thirst she had when drinking from others. It was a burden with them, a task as simple as eating to survive, she simply needed it to be done, and fast, but with Colin, her movements were slower, more hesitant perhaps. With Colin, she wanted to make it last.

And what a terrifying thought. It was in her very nature that everything she touches cannot last.

So she came back every other night. Colin seemed eager to welcome her every time, but he did not think she was real, she could tell with the mesmerised glint in his eyes, and it made her stop before she would give in. The kisses were enough. They had to be. It was not love, it could not be.

Then everything was cleared up and he still wanted her. He asked her to bite him. To let go.

So she did. Again, and again, and again. And when he mentioned needing to talk, she flew, afraid that it would mark the end of this whole mess.

And she knew it would be her downfall.

Penelope is not a brave woman. She is greedy, ruined and selfish.

But someone else may disagree.

And that night, she is reminded that she remains a woman made for love.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

Knocks on her window make her jump, and she almost screams when she turns around to see Colin somehow there, perched on the branch of the tree near her house.

“Have you gone mad?! Again!” she whisper-shouts as she opens the window and Colin wastes no time jumping into her bedroom, bringing a few leaves and twigs in his wake.

“My mind has never been clearer, Pen,” Colin grins that easy-going charming smile of his. “I have something to ask you.”

Under the moonlight, Penelope has always felt more at peace, empowered in a way the sun could never offer. As it turns out, Colin finds that the night emboldens him as well.

He strides the few steps separating him from Penelope and promptly drops on one knee.

“Marry me.”

Penelope gasps, taking a step back to observe the man before her. Framed perfectly as he is by her open window, it allows the full moon to shine brightly upon him, casting an ethereal blue tint upon his dark curls. A subtle breeze graces the night, her curtains swaying gently to its rhythm around Colin, a vision from her romantic reveries.

And so it pains her to utter her next words.

“Colin we cannot.”

Undeterred, Colin presses on. “But do you want to?”

“... Do not do this to me, Colin.”

He shakes his head and reaches for her hand. Against all the voices in her head, she lets him, fingers curling naturally around his warm palm.

“Talk to me, Penelope.”

The urge to run grips her very being once more but this time Colin does not let go. He must have felt her hand tremble in his grip. He stands up, bringing an arm around her waist, pressing their bodies together. He whirls them around so he may sit on the bed, Penelope standing before him, now at even level for their foreheads to gently rest against each other.

She inhales deeply. A familiar position, one that renders her so weak for his touches.

“Is it… Did your family tell you? That I planned on leaving after this season? Is this why you are proposing so suddenly?” she asks eventually, meeting Colin’s forest green orbs, shining with an intensity she still is not used to.

His muscles tense under her hands. “... You wished to leave?” That is a no, then. “Why would you…”

“I have a long life ahead of me, Colin, and spending it in London has never been my plan.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“... Eventually,” she lies.

He doesn’t believe her, it is evident in his eyes and the way his lips press into a stern line.

“Talk to me.”

It is not so much a request anymore, but rather a blatant and tired demand. Penelope’s shoulders sag, guilt piercing her heart for the torment she must have put her friend in.

“I apologise,” she whispers. “It is just… I cannot do this to you, Colin.” Her hands slide from his shoulders to his face, feeling Colin melt under her touch. “I am already taking so much from you— I cannot curse you with eternity too.”

It is possible to tie a mortal’s life to ours, but it is a process that cannot be overturned. They remain partially human, they simply stop ageing as long as the vampire does not die. She recalls reading in her father’s writings. The target must simply drink back from the vampire. It cannot be forced, the ritual will fail if the soul is not willing. But mortals are indecisive. Many dream of eternity only to wither through the years and beg for death.

“And what if I wanted eternity with you?” Colin asks, an unbearable softness to his voice.

“You do not know what you speak of.”

“I do. I have been agonising over this for the past few weeks, Penelope.”

“A life with me means an eternity of loneliness.”

Colin gives her a bemused look. “Absolutely not, since I would be with you. That is the very opposite of loneliness.”

“But your family—”

“Know about you, about my feelings, and would understand.”

“We will need to constantly move, with nowhere to call home.”

“Home does not need to be a place. There is a reason I keep coming back, and though I love my family, it is not because of them.” Penelope is ready to argue, but he shushes her by stealing a kiss. “Do not. Half of them do not even live in London anymore.”

Penelope cannot refute that indeed.

“Perhaps the better question would be… Penelope Featherington, would you make me yours?”

The air becomes charged after those words are uttered.

Her teeth ache, as he cranes his neck, the traces of her last bite peeking beneath his cravat. A monstrous growl almost escapes her at the mere fact it is hidden, and she is able to stifle it through a cough.

“N-Not tonight,” she says.

“Is that a yes for later, then?” Colin says eagerly, arms still wrapped around her, refusing to let go.

“I need you to be sure, Colin.”

“I am, darling.” He smiles with a tenderness that makes her non-beating heart swoon. He kisses the palm of her hand. “You have been my constant in life. The light within the dark that kept guiding me back home, back to you. I suppose I never… questioned it twice, I always assumed that however long I went away, you would be here to welcome me. I love you, and if I can be blessed with eternity with you, exploring the world anew, then I would be a fool to refuse.”

“Will you not grow bored?”

“Bored! Pen, we have known each other for almost twenty years, that is a crazy long time, all things considered, and I am still learning new exciting things about you, and myself. An eternity of constantly surprising each other, is that not exciting?”

Piece by piece, she can feel the walls around her soul crumble.

“I love you,” she laughs as she lets herself fall against him, making them both tumble into the mattress. Colin carefully manoeuvers them so she is the one lying down on the bed, with him hovering over her, her arms still wrapped around his neck, keeping him close. “Now I feel like the one who’s dreaming.”

Colin hums. “Then allow me to fulfil your fantasies, now,” he says, voice lowered. The laughter dies on her tongue as she takes on the serious look in his eyes, and she can hear his heartbeat more intensely. Her vision goes hazy for a moment as all her senses get attuned to Colin’s body.

She can have him, her heart sings, all of him, body and soul. Why should she wait, in the end?

“Let me show you… how certain I am. Let me return the favour?” As he speaks, one of his hands slowly travels from her waist to the back of her knees, lifting the skirt of her nightgown in his wake.

Penelope breathes in. “Well… first I would need to tell you what I need, wouldn’t I?”

Colin smiles, tilting his head. It is a thing he only ever does with her, Penelope muses with wonder. “I’m listening,” he whispers. “What do you need, darling?”

A thrill runs through her body at the question — the very question which started their nightly escapades.

“I need you inside me. I want it slow, but purposeful, I want to feel all of you and feel you come undone as I bite you.”

If he is surprised by her frankness or her mere knowledge of sexual acts, she who is supposed to be an innocent lady of the Ton, he does not let it show. His breath falters but he quickly regains himself, offering her a bright smile.

“You are a right wonder,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her. For long minutes, it is all they do, exchange languid kisses in which Penelope teasingly bites his lower lip whenever he pulls back slightly to breathe.

Soon, she feels his hand slide around her thigh to seek her most intimate part. She gasps softly as his large hand cups her.

“You are soaked already…” Colin whispers in wonder as he starts to rub circles. She whines, lifting her hips to match his movements. “Eager…”

“It has been a while,” she admits then quickly slaps a hand on her mouth. “I— I mean—”

Colin purses his lips. “Then I shall prove myself better, so it is not just my blood you will relentlessly crave,” he says.

“Cocky, are we?”

He bites his lips, visibly holding himself back from another retort, and just as Penelope is about to call him out on it, she feels a finger prod at her entrance before sliding in, oh too naturally, before another one joins in.

That is when Penelope realises they are still too dressed, or at least, Colin is. As he starts thrusting his fingers in her, accompanied by expert stimulation of her bundle of nerves, she starts clawing at his shirt and cravat, threatening to tear them apart. Eventually, she manages to get his cravat off, at the very least, freeing his neck. She licks her lips, eyes focused on her mark on his skin.

She can feel his gaze on him, tracking every one of her expressions, of her movements. His fingers slow as if waiting for her next move, and as she tugs at his sleeves, he understands. He pulls away briefly, getting rid of his shirt with one hand, throwing it over his shoulder and across the room, before he is on her again.

His fingers resume their work to Penelope’s utter pleasure, alternating between careful caresses and enthusiastic thrusts. She feels it build steadily, that heat within her, and she can sense it in him too. Her hands dance across the hair on his chest, listening to his heart beat with fervour, feeling his blood flow throughout his body and most importantly, down there. She smiles slightly as he, most certainly unconsciously, starts to grind against her thighs, desperation building.

“Colin,” she calls against his lips. He halts his movements, a bit too abruptly to her taste. She pouts. “I need you, now.”

He wastes no time executing himself, her Colin. With one more kiss before parting, he pulls away, but only for a moment as he frees himself from his breeches, which also find their place at the foot of the bed. With Colin now completely naked in front of her, she realises she, on the other hand, is still fully clothed. And she quite likes it.

“Next time,” she promises, upon noticing Colin’s slightly disappointed look upon noticing she is not moving at all to remove her nightgown. “Only my husband shall see everything.”

Colin laughs softly. “I will procure a special licence, then.” He crawls on top of her again, and she feels his length throb between her thighs and shivers. “Are you ready?” he asks.

She licks her lips. “Are you?” she asks, flashing her fangs, recalling the way her bites affect him like it has affected no other man. He draws in a shaky breath and nods.

She wraps her legs around his waist as he positions himself and thrusts in one smooth glide. Penelope moans, stifling her sounds immediately on his skin, not quite biting yet, but tempted to. He groans against her, mouth lapping at her chest, for every inch of skin he can reach, as he builds a steady rhythm.

“You feel heavenly, Pen,” Colin meowls. “Warm, sweet, perfect.”

Penelope sighs deeply with each thrust, matching his movement, ears ringing with the sound of Colin’s breath, his heart, his blood, his pleasure. It is all so much, and yet not enough at once.

Then one of Colin’s hands reaches for her clit during one particular thrust and she almost screams. The only reason she does not is because she bites down on Colin’s neck instead, his blood flooding her mouth.

His hips stutter, before they renew in vigour, chasing that high. Penelope loses herself, an animalistic instinct taking over as she bites and nibbles at every inch of skin available to her as she feels her pleasure overwhelm her.

“Colin,” she moans, “Colin, now—”

His thrusts lose their careful rhythm as he gives in to the chase. She tries to follow, but all she can do is hold on, lay back and let him take, take and take, the way she has taken and taken and taken from him.

Soon enough, her vision blurs as her pleasure overflows. She moans, and so does he, eyes never leaving her face as she clenches around him at the same time she can feel his seeds plant within her.

With laboured breath, they remain connected as such for long minutes, before eventually, Colin collapses on her side, fingers tracing the numerous new marks across his skin.

“Good Lord, darling, you devoured me,” he says, before kissing her like tomorrow did not exist.

She laughs against his mouth, wiggling her hips, trying to ignore her disappointment at the sudden emptiness there. “You’re welcome.”

He hums. “I… should go before the sun rises.”

“You should.”

“I do not want to.”

“Me neither.”

And so they do not move and fall asleep entangled together.

꧁༺࿅ིཽ• –– •❈• –– •࿅ིཽ༻꧂

They are married within the next week through a special licence. They did not get caught that night, surprisingly enough, Colin was simply impatient, and he is too in love to even be ashamed about it.

Neither he nor Penelope desired a big celebration of a wedding anyhow, not when they knew that they would soon embark on a ritual far more binding than a wedding could ever be.

But it is a bit underwhelming, Colin thinks, as Penelope hands him a chalice with some of her blood within. And nothing else.

“Is that all?” he questions. “Seems… awfully easy.”

“Not everything can be as seductive as those books say,” Penelope says. “I can bite your wrist at the same time if you prefer.”

“Do that, and we are not leaving this room for another week again.”

She snorts. “Well then.” She grabs a glass, this one he knows to be full of wine, as she clinks it against his chalice. “To our eternity?”

“To our eternity,” he confirms and drinks.

He blinks as sweetness greets his tongue, rather than the stale iron taste blood usually bears. His eyes flicker to Penelope, whose eyes twinkle as she smiles.

“Sweet, isn’t it?” she hums around her glass. “Only mine will taste as such to you.”

“Is that how I taste to you?” he asks.

“You now know why I lost my mind a little,” his wife chuckles. She beckons him closer. “Here, hold my hand, close your eyes and concentrate.”

Confused, Colin follows her instructions. He holds her hands with both of his, smiling a little upon feeling her wedding ring against his palm. That is when he hears it— two unified beating hearts. His, and hers.

“But you said your heart…” he trails off.

“You are half of me, as I am half of you now.” Her crimson lips form the lovely smile he fell in love with years ago. “Sweet, isn’t it?”

Colin cannot help but agree. He leans down to get a sweet kiss indeed from her. “Not as sweet as you.”

Penelope beams at him, eyes bright. He shall cherish that sight forever.

And how lucky is he that he does have forever ahead of him.