Chapter 6
DAMIEN
She’s right. It doesn’t seem like it could work. Every argument she just whispered into the air, human and immortal, mortal and damned, is one I’ve made to myself a hundred thousand times. She’s fragile, fleeting, burningly alive in a way I forgot life could be. And I am… not.
But what she doesn’t know, what I can’t tell her yet, is that there’s a way.
If we seal the bond, she’ll change. Not completely. Not like me. She’ll still be human, warm, breathing, full of light, but she’ll carry a thread of what I am inside her veins. My strength. My instincts. My life. A hybrid of sorts.
And she’d be able to carry my child.
The thought hits hard, sharp enough to steal my breath. The idea of it, the impossible, sacred thing I thought I’d never have, feels too dangerous to even dream about. A child born of both worlds. Of her light and my darkness.
I watch her from across the room, her eyes searching my face for answers I can’t give her yet. If I told her everything now, she’d run. Not because she’s weak, but because she’s smart. Because she’d see what I am and what it would cost her to stay.
So I hold my silence and let her think it’s impossible. It’s safer that way.
She’s standing by the fire, her arms wrapped around herself. The golden light catches in her hair, and something inside me aches at the sight. Every instinct screams to go to her, to pull her against me until she understands she’s already mine.
But I stay where I am.
I’ve waited too long to lose her to fear.
“I know this doesn’t make sense to you,” I say quietly. She startles, like she’d forgotten I was watching. “But nothing about fate ever does.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t speak.
I take a slow step forward. “You asked how this could work. The truth is, it’s not as impossible as you think. My kind… we’re bound by blood, not time.”
Her pulse jumps. “What does that mean?”
“It means there are ways to bridge the divide between us.”
“Bridge?” she repeats, frowning. “You mean, turn me?”
The word stings. “No. Never that.”
She studies me, searching my expression. “Then what?”
I step closer until we’re only a breath apart. The air between us hums, alive. “It means if we bond, truly bond, you’d be changed in small ways. You’d still be human, but also something more. Stronger. Harder to hurt. You’d share a piece of my world without losing your own.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s… possible?”
“Yes.”
She swallows hard. “And you’ve done that before?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Never?”
“Never,” I say. “Because I’ve never found the one who was mine.”
She looks away, processing, then back at me with a question that undoes me. “And if I say no?”
I smile faintly, though it feels like it breaks something inside me. “Then I spend the rest of eternity watching you live the life you were meant to. Hoping you find someone who makes you feel safe. Happy.”
Her eyes glisten. “You’d really let me go?”
“If it meant you’d survive? Yes.”
I reach out before I can stop myself, brushing my thumb along her cheek. Her skin is soft, warm, alive. It hurts how beautiful she is. “But understand this, Calla James.” My voice drops to a whisper. “Even if you walk away… your soul will always know mine.”
The air trembles between us. I can feel her pulse beneath my wrist, her breath catching on the gravity of what I’ve just said.
If I kiss her again, I won’t stop.
So I take a step back. Because if I’m going to lose her, it won’t be tonight.
She stares into the fire for a long time, silent. I wait, centuries have taught me patience, but she tests every ounce of it.
When she finally looks back at me, her eyes are soft but uncertain. I move a step closer, careful not to break the fragile calm.
“You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” I murmur. “There’s time.”
Her lips part.
“Centuries of it, if you need.” I smile faintly. “I’ve already waited a thousand years. I can wait a little longer.”
Her eyes shine, and something tightens in my chest. I brush my fingers down her arm until I find her hand. The touch is gentle, reverent. “But if I could ask for one thing, just one…”
She tilts her head. “What?”
“One night,” I say, my voice rough. “One night to show you what it means when I say I’d worship you.”
Her breath trembles. “Worship me?”
“Yes.” I step closer, my thumb tracing lazy circles over her pulse. “Not to claim you. Not to take. Just to show you what it feels like to be wanted, completely, without end, without fear.”
Her chest rises and falls faster, color blooming in her cheeks. “Damien…”
“You’d be safe,” I whisper. “Always.”
The silence stretches, fragile and electric. Then she nods, barely, but enough. “Okay,” she whispers. “One night.”
The words hit me like a heartbeat after years of stillness. I take a steadying breath. Every part of me wants to lose control, to drag her into my arms.
Instead, I lift her hand and press a kiss to her knuckles. “Then one night,” I whisper. “And I’ll make sure it’s something you never forget.”
I guide her through the room, each step deliberate. The firelight flickers over her skin, making her glow like she’s been painted in gold.
When we reach the bed, she hesitates. Not out of fear, but trust battling the unknown. I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her palm, slow and reverent. “You can stop me anytime,” I murmur. “All you have to do is say so.”
She nods, breath trembling.
I don’t rush her. I never would. I trace the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck, memorizing every inch before I dare touch more. Her heartbeat fills the room, steady and alive. The most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“You said one night,” I whisper. “Let me make it mean something.”
She leans in until her forehead rests against mine. “Show me,” she breathes.
I take her mouth then, soft, seeking, a promise rather than a demand. The kiss deepens, slow and consuming, igniting every nerve in my body. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer until the world disappears.
This isn’t just one night. It’s the culmination of every stolen glance, every restrained breath. The beginning of everything.
I pull back just enough to reach behind her, my fingers finding the small zipper of her yellow dress. It slides down with a soft shhh, the sound loud in the quiet room. The fabric pools around her waist. She shivers, and I lean in, pressing a kiss to the newly exposed curve of her shoulder.
“Cold?” I murmur against her skin, my voice hoarse.
“No,” she whispers. “Just… everything.”
I shed my jacket, then my shirt, every movement deliberate. Her gaze tracks each one, wide and hungry. The firelight paints her in shades of gold, bare skin and lace and everything I never thought I’d deserve.
I sit beside her, the mattress dipping beneath my weight. My fingers trace the strap of her bra, slipping beneath it. She trembles.
“Are you sure, Calla?” My voice is barely audible.
Her eyes meet mine. “Yes,” she breathes.
I kiss her deeply, the taste of her driving every rational thought from my mind. I push her gently back against the bed, my hands mapping her curves like sacred territory. She’s soft, real, perfect.
I kiss the nape of her neck, scraping my fangs lightly across her skin. A rush of blood rises to the surface. I taste her, moaning softly. She’s intoxicating, sweet and alive. I could lose myself in her forever.
I kiss down her chest, between the full curve of her breasts. She moans, moving against me. I catch one nipple between my lips, teasing until her breath breaks on a gasp. The faint scrape of a fang draws a taste of her blood, and she shivers with pleasure.
My hand slides lower, tracing the heat between her thighs. She’s slick, ready, and every primal instinct in me roars to life. I tear the lace from her hips, tossing it aside, and lower myself between her legs.
I spread her open, blowing gently against her clit. She moans, eyes hooded, and the sound nearly undoes me.
“Damien, please,” she breathes. “Stop teasing me. I need you.”
I grin against her skin. “You don’t have to beg, sweetheart.”
My tongue finds her center, plunging deep, and she cries out, arching off the bed. I lap at her, thumb circling her clit in slow, rhythmic strokes. She pulls my hair, moving with me, wild and perfect.
Her taste floods my senses. I’m drunk on her, lost in her.
“Damien,” she gasps. “I need you, inside me.”
I lift my head, smirking. “I was inside you, sweetheart.”
She shakes her head, trembling with need. “Your cock. I need your cock.”
That word, that plea, it destroys me. I strip the rest of my clothes off and line myself up against her slick heat. She looks down, eyes widening.
“It’s so big,” she whispers. “I don’t know if it’ll, ”
“You were made for me, Calla,” I rasp. “You’ll take every inch.
You’ll crave it. And when I’m gone, nothing else will ever come close.
“You were made for me, Calla. It will fit better than anything that has ever been inside you before and leave you aching for me over and over again. Nothing else will ever do. Not your fingers. Not a toy. And not a man who dares touch what is mine. Can you handle that?”
She licks her lips and nods, desperate.
I push forward, slow but deep, sinking into her until she gasps, trembling beneath me. I pause, letting her adjust, then start to move, slow thrusts turning harder, deeper, until the air fills with our sounds, our rhythm, our breaking point.
“Damien, I’m so close. I’m going to come,” she moans.
“Not until I tell you to, sweet Calla. Wait for me.” I thrust harder, deeper, into her slick heat, every movement pushing me closer to the edge. Her tight pussy grips me like she was made for me, and for a moment I swear I could burn the world down with the way she feels.
“Now, sweetheart. Come for me.”
Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she breaks apart, trembling and gasping my name. The sound of her pleasure wrecks me. I sink my teeth into the soft curve of her neck, tasting her essence as I spill inside her. The rush is blinding, pure, consuming bliss.
It’s a taste of what eternity could be, though not quite the bond itself. That would require her drinking from me too. She’s not ready for that yet.
When we finally still, I pull out of her trembling body with a low groan. She shivers, her skin slick and glowing. I head into the bathroom, wet a washcloth with warm water, and return to her side.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, breathless.
“Spread your legs, sweetheart. Let me take care of you, my mate. My darling. My love.”
She parts her thighs without a word, trusting me completely. I clean her slowly, gently, wiping away the evidence of us before tossing the cloth into the sink. When I come back, I pull her against me, her head resting over my chest.
The room is quiet now, filled only with the sound of our breathing and the faint crackle of the fire. The sheets are tangled around us, soft against her skin, warm against mine. She lies half in my arms, her fingers tracing idle patterns over my chest like she’s memorizing the shape of me.
Her voice is soft, almost hesitant. “I can feel it. Your heartbeat. I thought vampires were… dead.”
A low laugh escapes me, quiet and rough. “We’re very much alive. Our hearts still beat, we just age slower. Much slower.”
She tilts her head, studying me, curiosity softening every line of her face. “So you can die?”
“We can,” I say. “It just takes more than time to kill us.”
Her fingers pause over my heart, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her touch. “You don’t seem like something that can die.”
“Neither did you,” I murmur. “And yet, you nearly stopped mine tonight.”
She blushes, a small smile curving her lips before fading into thought. “You said… slower. How much slower?”
I brush a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I’ve lived a thousand years, Calla.”
Her breath catches. “A thousand?”
I nod once. “And not one of them meant anything until tonight.”
Her gaze flicks up to mine, wide and full of wonder. “Children,” she says suddenly, the word like a question and a revelation at once. “You said vampires can have children?”
I nod again, slow and deliberate. “Yes. But only once we find our mate.”
Her brow furrows slightly. “How?”
I cradle her cheek in my palm, my thumb brushing her skin in small, reverent circles. “When we bond, part of what I am becomes part of you. Not enough to change what makes you human, but enough to bridge the divide between our worlds. It’s rare. Sacred. The bond makes new life possible.”
She’s quiet for a long time. Her eyes search mine like she’s trying to decide if she should believe me, if what I’m saying could be real. Then, softly, almost to herself, she whispers, “You mean… I could carry your child?”
Something inside me stirs, hope, fierce and dangerous. I smile faintly, my thumb still resting against her lips. “You could. If you chose it. If we chose it.”
Her breath shudders out, her eyes glimmering with a mix of awe and disbelief. “That’s… impossible.”
“So was finding you,” I whisper. “And yet, here you are.”
She looks away, blinking hard, as if the weight of it all, the bond, the fate, the future, presses down too heavily to breathe. I pull her gently against my chest, holding her close until her heartbeat steadies again beneath my hand.
“I’m not asking you to believe everything tonight,” I murmur into her hair. “Just… don’t be afraid of what’s real.”
Her fingers tighten on my arm. “I’m not afraid,” she says quietly. “Just trying to remember how to breathe.”
I smile against her temple. “Then start there.”