Was he really so obvious?

"Why are you so angry about falling in love with me?"

Raphael wouldn't call it anger—it was more frustration. Vampires don't have heartbeats, so feeling your heart skip a beat is a foreign concept to the Children of the Night. However, the fluttering referred to as butterflies in the stomach was all too common.

He would park his motorcycle by the sidewalk around the corner of the Institute and lean against it with his hands in his pockets. He'd look up at the stars occasionally, appreciating his enhanced vampire sight and taking in even the slightest twinkle of the invisible stars in New York's night skies. When he'd hear footsteps, that feeling would explode in his stomach. How was it possible to memorize the sounds of her footsteps?

When he'd meet her eyes, the butterflies would annoy him further and his expression, desperately trying to melt at the sight of her, would pinch in a forced frown. He soon came to realize that keeping up this hard-ass and aloof facade took up a lot of his energy, especially since she was so perceptive of his inner workings anyway. Was she some kind of telepath?

"You look so happy to see me, Rapha," she joked. There was nothing she could do to extinguish the glow that always seemed to surround her like an angel. Her flawless skin reminded him of creamy champurrado his mother used to make during Las Posadas. She always wore sweaters or jackets, but on the off chance she didn't, he could see the thin silvery rivers that curled over her neck and her collarbones and disappeared into her scoop necklines. They were everywhere, and he found himself thinking—more often than he should—about how much pleasure it would bring him to trace every single line on her slender body, seeing where they started and where they finished.

"And I thought I was being subtle," he smirked. The tips of his fangs had flung out of their sockets, and the first time it ever occurred, he was horrified. He was acting like some fledgling pendejo that couldn't control himself! Thankfully, she wasn't frightened, and in fact, it didn't even deter her from wrapping her arms around his neck to bring him down to her level and kiss him.

Now was no different. The source of his disobedient fangs was the mere scent of her: gardenias, honey, coconuts, and sweet rushing blood. Her heart rate increased when she was near him, and it both flattered him and drove him out of his mind. He always made it a point to drink his fill of blood before going out with her. He couldn't fathom drinking from her; she was too pure and lovely to be bitten and tainted in such a way.

"You look nice tonight," she traced her fingers—also lined with thin scars—over the lapel of his blazer. Underneath it was a simple white button-down shirt with golden cufflinks, dress slacks, and polished dress shoes that cost him a pretty penny.

"You could've put in a little more effort, though," he said. He hooked his thumb into the belt loop of her jeans and tugged. "Jeans? Really?"

"You need to start sending me the dress code before we go out," she slapped his hand away playfully. "Otherwise I'm going to look like your subjugate."

Raphael pretended to think about it and it earned him a jab on the arm. "In fact, let's go to Central Park; I want to sit around on the grass and look at the moon."

"This suit was expensive, Eva."

"What's that phrase you say when you don't care?"

"Me importa un pinche carajo," he chuckled, throwing a leg over his motorcycle. "And you'll pay for this later."

"I look forward to it," she planted a kiss on his cheek and then took a seat behind him. When her arms wrapped around his midsection, he felt that flutter again and he rolled his eyes. He was too old to be feeling these things like he was some teenager. Physically he was one, so he supposed that had something to do with it.

He parked his motorcycle on Madison Avenue and 72nd Street and they walked to a trendy coffee shop. Autumn was starting to breeze through New York and while nights were beginning to cool down, Eva still ordered an iced coffee. Raphael loved to watch the way she studied things intently, most likely a product of her Shadowhunter training. She always scanned menus and lists as if she was trying to decipher a hidden code in them, those golden eyes flickering side to side, up and down. They stood out so beautifully against her skin and the thick curly brown hair that frizzed in certain places added the perfect touch to her beauty. Eva was a work of art; an angel in a Renaissance painting. If Raphael were a painter like his namesake, he would create masterpieces of her.

At night, Central Park was lit by fluorescent street lights that cast shadows unevenly over the blooming, evergreen trees. It was close to nine P.M—on a Saturday, of course—and the Central Park Mall was empty of locals and tourists alike. They took a seat on one of the benches along the seemingly endless walkway and Eva immediately curled up on his side. Her head was on his collarbone, but her hair was so voluminous, it tickled his nose and overwhelmed his senses with the smell of coconuts clinging to her curls. She threw her legs over his and the tip of her boot ran up and down his shin absentmindedly. If he didn't feel so comfortable, he would've told her she was dirtying his expensive pants.

"Rapha?" she craned her neck to look up at him with those breathtaking eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

"No."

"If you could go out in the sun, where would you go?"

"You and your questions," he chuckled. "Last week it was: what deodorant would I prefer if I had the ability to stink."

"Just answer me," she poked his belly playfully. He couldn't help but sigh in exasperation, despite having no need to.

"I would go to Rockaway Beach," he threw his head back and closed his eyes to picture it as he remembered it fifty years ago. "I used to go there with my friends and family in the summers. There's something so breathtaking about the way the sun reflects off the surface of the water and..." He trailed off when he felt her staring with a goofy grin on her face. He frowned immediately. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, still smiling. "You just talk about it with such passion, it makes me smile."

He shrugged. "You start longing for such insignificant things when you can't have them."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I don't know what else to say, but I'm sorry."

Raphael's never told her how he was Turned, and despite her barrage of questions, she's never once asked him. He was grateful for it—she was more interested in knowing about such dumb things that they ended up being more intimate than telling her the story of his Turning.

He couldn't resist and took her breath away with a deep kiss, holding her cheek softly in his hand as he spread her lips with his own. She melted against him, her hands clutching onto the lapels of his jacket. He could smell the blood rushing to her cheeks and he could feel the heat of her skin through his fingertips.

"Keep that up and you might swallow each other."

They quickly parted their heated kiss and Raphael glared at the three Shadowhunters standing before them, dressed in full black gear and armed for battle. The one who spoke, who Raphael knew as Jace Wayland, was smirking wickedly, "I never knew vampires swallowed their prey whole."

"You guys are on patrol without me?" Eva pouted.

"You were out on a date," Isabelle Lightwood shrugged her small shoulders. "We didn't want to bother you."

"You're bothering us now," Raphael said bitterly.

"We're actually here because there's been a report of a demon in this area," Alec said, ever so serious and focused. "Mundanes have been going missing; they think it's a serial killer."

"Any guess on what kind?" Eva untangled herself from Raphael swiftly and stood to approach them. Raphael merely leaned back on the bench with his ankle resting on his knee casually. It was eerie how Eva could go into Shadowhunter mode like flicking on a lightswitch. Their conversation about the modus operandi of various demon species fell on deaf ears as Raphael let his mind wander aimlessly.

Until his keen nose picked up the sudden smell of rotting flesh.

"Quiet, all of you," Raphael sprung up on his feet. They fell silent as Raphael took in the air through his nose. "It's lurking."

The ruby on Isabelle's throat began to glow brightly as Jace pulled out his Sensor and the device began to light up and beep. He spoke with an air of excitement, "Vamp's right; it's close."

"Of course I'm right," Raphael glared at them all. His words fell on deaf ears, though. Eva reached for the hoops she always wore and pulled the glamour off them quickly to reveal razor-sharp chakrams. Izzy brandished her whip, Alec readied his bow, and Jace replaced his Sensor with a seraph blade.

"Well, this is annoying," Raphael said. "This is what I get for dating a—"

He couldn't finish. A screeching cry, like nails on a chalkboard, echoed through the deserted park, making their ears ring. It wasn't even close to winter yet, but the air became bitter cold in a second. Raphael felt none of it and only realized the drastic change in temperature when he could see white mists forming in front of the Shadowhunters' lips.

The fluorescent lights illuminating the walkway all went out simultaneously, leaving them in full darkness with only the city lights glowing in the distance. Witchlight stones replaced the streetlights.

"Keep an eye out, vamp," Jace's annoying voice called out. Raphael could see the glow of their steles tracing runes on any available patch of skin. Izzy was quickly drawing the entire Gray Book on Eva's arms and neck and even her stomach. "Make yourself useful in this darkness."

"Shut up, Jace," Eva snapped.

Jace would have replied if he'd had the time. That ear-ripping shriek bit into them again and with it came a grotesque scorpion creature appearing a short distance away in the middle of the walkway. Its pointed head was horned and its mouth lined with overlapping fangs. It stood at least seven feet in height, but when it stood up on its many hind legs, it was bordering on ten feet tall.

"Nephilim," the voice was surprisingly smooth and female. It certainly didn't match the terrifying red eyes floating like side-by-side lasers in the darkness. Its tongue was forked like a snake's. "I've been expecting you."