Chapter 4
DAMIEN
She sways to the side in my arms. It’s tiny. Most people wouldn’t notice. I notice. Her grip on me loosens, and there’s this little unfocused blink in her eyes. Too warm. Too flushed. Her pulse kicks.
“Calla.” I’m already reaching for her.
“I’m fine,” she says, even though she is absolutely not fine.
Her breathing’s too fast, her cheeks pink, a faint sheen on her collarbone where her dress dips.
I can feel the heat rolling off her like she’s standing in the sun.
She tries to pull out of my grasp, but her legs don’t completely cooperate.
My hand curves around her waist, steadying her before she can even think about falling. “Easy,” I murmur. “I’ve got you.”
She exhales, embarrassed. “Sorry. I just… wow. Okay. I think I need some air.”
“Then you get air.” I don’t ask. I don’t offer. I move. My hand stays at her waist as I guide her through the crowd. This time I don’t bother pretending to be subtle. Bodies shift out of my way without understanding why. No one touches her. No one even tries.
We reach the side hall and slip through the glass doors that lead to the balcony.
I step out with her into the night, then reach back and pull the door closed behind us with a soft click.
Instant quiet. Out here, it’s moonlight and stone and October cold.
She drags in a breath like she’s been underwater too long.
The balcony overlooks the back gardens, dark hedges, old statues, and lanterns burning low.
The air is crisp enough to bite, cutting through the flushed heat on her skin and raising goosebumps along her arms. She braces her hands on the railing and bows her head for a second.
“Okay,” she whispers. “That’s better. Wow. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be dramatic.”
“You’re not being dramatic.” I move in behind her, close but not touching. “You were overheated. Too crowded. Too much noise. Your heart rate spiked.”
Her head tilts slightly. “You can tell that?”
I almost smile. “Yes.”
I watch her breathing slow, steady, rhythmic. That frantic flutter in her chest evens out into something softer, sweet. Her shoulders drop, her spine loosens. She doesn’t even know how easily she lets me take care of her. That’s the part that kills me.
Because my body is one command away from turning and putting my teeth in her throat and sealing it, sealing her, sealing us.
Mine in truth. Mine in bond. Mine in blood.
But she doesn’t know what I am. If I claim her too soon, I lose her.
I’ve waited a thousand years for her. I won’t ruin it in ten minutes.
So I stand there and look at her instead.
Her wings catch the moonlight, her curls a little messy from dancing, a few strands sticking to her neck.
Her skin is warm, alive. The pulse at her throat is steady now, and I have to curl my hands into fists to stop myself from reaching out and feeling it with my mouth.
She turns her head slightly, glancing back over her shoulder. “Sorry if I killed the vibe.”
“You didn’t.” My voice comes out lower than I mean it to. “You improved it.”
That earns me a quiet laugh. “Smooth.”
“It’s not a line,” I tell her. It isn’t.
We’re alone. The glass doors block most of the sound from the ballroom.
It’s just us, our breath in the cold air, and the faint crackle of music leaking through the wall.
She shifts her weight, and I step closer without thinking.
Her back grazes my chest. She goes still.
I feel that stillness slide through both of us like a spark catching dry kindling.
“Too close?” I ask quietly.
She swallows. “No.”
My self-control is a thread. I lift one hand and trace her hair off her shoulder, slow, careful.
Her skin chills where the night air hits it, then warms again where my fingers replace it.
I gather her curls and sweep them to one side, baring the curve of her neck.
She shivers, not from the cold. God, she’s soft.
I lower my mouth and press a kiss against the spot just beneath her ear. She sucks in a tiny breath. Her hands grip the balcony rail harder, knuckles pale.
“Damien,” she whispers, and my name in her voice does something brutal to me.
“I know,” I murmur against her skin. “I shouldn’t.” I kiss her again anyway. Slower this time. Open-mouthed. Reverent. I taste her, warmth, skin, a hint of sugar from her drink. I could get drunk on that alone. Her whole body leans back into me like instinct.
That’s it. The last of my restraint snaps.
I bracket her in with my arms, palms flat on the stone rail on either side of her hands. My chest is pressed to her back now, my hips aligned with hers, no space left to pretend we’re being polite. She’s breathing harder again, but not from panic this time.
I speak against her throat. “Tell me to stop.”
Her head tips back against my shoulder. “I don’t want you to.”
That’s all I need.
I turn her, smoothing my hands to her waist, guiding her to face me. Her wings brush the railing, a soft whisper of fabric and shimmer. She looks up at me, pupils blown wide, lips parted like she’s waiting to be kissed. Beautiful doesn’t cover it. She’s fate wearing a yellow dress.
I lean in slow enough to make sure she can pull away. She doesn’t.
Our mouths meet. The first brush of her lips is soft, testing, like she’s not sure if she’s allowed to want this as much as she does. I groan into it, not because I mean to, but because I can’t not. The sound vibrates through both of us, and after that there’s nothing careful left.
She makes this quiet, helpless noise and rises onto her toes, fingers fisting in my jacket like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she doesn’t hold on. As if I’d go anywhere. As if I could.
I deepen the kiss. I’m careful with everything else in my life. Calculated. Controlled. Not with her.
My mouth moves over hers, hungry and grateful. I taste her, and my entire body lights up like something holy. She opens for me, and the way she does it, trusting, easy, kills me. I slide a hand up her spine and feel her shiver all the way through.
I need her closer. I grab her hips and lift.
She lets out a soft gasp that turns into a breathy laugh against my mouth, surprised but not scared, and I set her on the wide stone railing of the balcony.
She fits there perfectly, wings shifting around her, dress riding up just a little over her thighs.
Now we’re eye level. Now I can cage her in completely.
My hands bracket her again, one on her hip, one at the base of her neck. I step between her knees and claim her mouth all over again, deeper this time, slower, not asking anymore. Her fingers slide up into my hair. That tiny, possessive touch ends me.
This is mine, something in me snarls. Mine.
I kiss her like a starving thing finally given mercy. She answers like she’s been waiting too, like she’s been missing me without knowing why. The night air is cold, her skin is warm, her pulse steady under my mouth, and that’s the only sound in the world I care about.
I pull back just enough to breathe, my forehead resting against hers. She’s flushed and gorgeous, chest rising fast, lips kiss-swollen. Her eyes find mine. “Wow,” she whispers.
My voice comes out rough. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, Calla.”
She smiles, dazed. “I think I’m starting to.”
If she knew what I am, she’d run. If she knew what I want, she’d blush. If she knew what she is to me… I stroke my thumb along her jaw, memorizing the shape of her like I’ll never get to touch her again. “You tell me if you’re too warm. Too lightheaded. Anything. I’ll take care of you.”
Her gaze flickers, softens. “I know.”
That, right there. Trust. That’s what makes me shake. Because I’ve already decided. I’m never letting her go.
Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling in my jacket.
For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other, her breath brushing my lips, her pulse fluttering in her throat like a trapped bird.
Then she moves. She shifts closer, her knees brushing my hips, and before I can think, her legs slide around my waist, pulling us flush together.
The sound that leaves me isn’t human, a low, broken sound from somewhere deep in my chest.
“Calla,” I manage, but she’s already leaning down, closing the distance, kissing me again. This one isn’t soft. It’s certain. Her fingers find the back of my neck and hold me there while her mouth moves against mine, slow, deliberate, like she’s learning me one breath at a time.
I brace my hands against the stone rail behind her, caging her in without meaning to. Every movement drags her closer until there’s no air left between us, just the steady thrum of her heart and the soft sound of her breath catching in sync with mine.
When she finally pulls back, her lips are parted, her eyes wide and shining. “I don’t know what this is,” she whispers, “but it doesn’t feel wrong.”
I rest my forehead against hers, trying to catch a breath I don’t need. “It’s not wrong,” I whisper back. “It’s exactly what it’s meant to be.”
Her pulse quickens again, and I know she feels it too, the pull neither of us can name yet. I kiss her once more, softer this time, because if I don’t stop now, I won’t stop at all.
Her breath brushes my lips when she whispers, almost to herself, “Why does it feel like I’ve known you my entire life?”
I reach up and trace my thumb along her jaw, memorizing every inch of her. “Some souls don’t need time,” I tell her quietly. “They just… recognize what’s already theirs.”
Her lips part, a tremor of breath escaping, but before I can say more, movement catches my attention. The balcony doors open again. Laughter, low, careless, spills into the night as three figures step outside: two men and a woman.
The woman is flushed from wine, her head tipped back as one of the men leans in too close. The other trails his fingers along her arm, murmuring something that makes her shiver. Calla starts to move, whispering, “We should give them some privacy.” But I catch her wrist, gently stilling her. “Wait.”
Her brow furrows, confused, but she doesn’t pull away. The taller man glances up, eyes glinting red for the briefest second in the candlelight. My muscles lock. He knows I see him.
Calla watches the way the woman sways in their arms, dazed, eyes half-lidded like she’s caught in a dream. Then one of the men leans in, his mouth brushing the curve of her neck.
Calla inhales sharply. “What, what is he, ?”
The woman gasps softly, her fingers clutching the stone railing, her head rolling back in surrender. Calla takes a step forward, concern flashing across her face. “Is she okay?”
I move closer, my hand finding her waist, anchoring her before she can intervene. “She’s fine,” I murmur, my voice darker than I intend. “She’s exactly where she wants to be.”
Her heartbeat spikes. “Damien, ”
I shake my head once, quietly. “Look closer.”
When she does, her breath stutters. The man lifts his head, and for a split second, the moonlight catches the glint of his teeth, too sharp, too long. The second man leans in and does the same, his movements deliberate, almost reverent.
Calla goes still. “They’re…”
“Vampires,” I say quietly.
She blinks, shaking her head. “That’s not possible.”
“It is,” I murmur. “You just weren’t meant to see it yet.”
She stares, frozen, as the two men draw back, their lips glinting dark in the candlelight. The woman between them looks dazed but alive, her skin flushed, eyes half-closed in some bliss she doesn’t understand.
Calla swallows hard, still watching them. “You’re serious. They’re really, ”
“Real,” I finish softly. “And not nearly as careful as they should be.”
The world tilts for her. I can feel it, the truth sinking in, the fear warring with disbelief. I brush my thumb over her pulse, trying to ground her. “You asked why it feels like you’ve known me your whole life,” I murmur. “Now you know.”
She turns toward me, her expression torn between disbelief and the way her body still responds to every inch of space between us. “And you?” she whispers.
I hold her gaze, the truth already written in my eyes. “You already know.”
The question hits like a blade. I could lie. Pretend she didn’t just watch the truth unfold ten feet away. Pretend she’s still safe inside her illusions. But the bond between us hums too loudly for that now.
I feel the shift before it happens, the familiar ache low in my jaw, the heat crawling under my skin. I can’t stop it this time. My fangs slip free.
A slow breath leaves me, rough and heavy. I drag my tongue across them out of habit, the old instinct of a predator remembering what it is. Calla gasps, stumbling back a half step. Her hand flies to her mouth, eyes huge and glassy in the candlelight.
“Damien,” she whispers. “You, ”
She shakes her head once, but she can’t look away. The fear is there, but it’s tangled with something else, curiosity, fascination, that same impossible pull that’s been binding us since the moment she walked through the door.
I take a small step toward her, slow and deliberate. “You’re safe with me,” I tell her, voice rough with the effort of control. “Always.”
She’s trembling, but she doesn’t run. That’s the moment I know, whatever she decides next, she’s already mine.