Chapter 5
CALLA
Ican’t breathe.
Or maybe I’m breathing too much. My chest rises and falls too fast, my pulse pounding against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. The night feels heavier now, thick with something electric and wrong and… alive.
Vampires.
The word doesn’t even feel real in my head. My mind keeps rejecting it, spitting it back out like a bad joke, but my body knows the truth. I saw it. The sharp glint of teeth. The sound that woman made, half pain, half pleasure.
It shouldn’t have made my skin prickle like this. It shouldn’t have made me ache.
But it does.
I’m scared. I am. My hands are shaking, my thoughts are spinning, but underneath all of that is this dizzying heat that I can’t name. My heart shouldn’t race for him right now, not when I’ve seen what he is. But it does anyway.
It feels like I’m caught in some kind of spell. My head says run, but my body can’t move. The idea of walking away from him, of being apart from him, makes me feel sick. Like I need him to breathe, to live.
“What does it feel like?” I ask, my voice trembling even though I’m not sure what I’m asking about anymore.
Damien studies me quietly. His eyes are endless, dark and hungry and full of something I don’t have words for. Then he reaches up, grips my chin gently between his fingers, and tilts my face up toward his. The motion is soft, but there’s no mistaking the power in it.
“Come,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I don’t want to talk about this here.”
Before I can think to argue, his hand slips down to mine. His touch is warm, steady, and I follow him because I don’t know how not to.
He leads me off the balcony, through a narrow side door I didn’t even notice before.
The noise of the party fades behind us until it’s nothing but echoes.
The hallway is dim, lined with old portraits and heavy drapes that whisper when we pass.
My heels click softly against the stone floor, and the air grows cooler with every step.
We climb a set of stairs, then another. My pulse hasn’t slowed since he touched me. I should stop him, ask what’s happening, demand answers, but all I can do is follow, spellbound and breathless.
Finally, we reach the end of a long, dark hall. There’s a single door waiting at the end, old wood framed by candlelight. Damien stops in front of it and reaches into his pocket.
The faint jingle of keys sounds impossibly loud in the quiet.
“Why do you have a key?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He glances back at me, a small, knowing smile ghosting over his lips. “Because this is my home.”
My breath catches. “Your home?”
He slides the key into the lock and turns it. The sound clicks through me like a heartbeat.
“Yes,” he says, pushing the door open. “Welcome to my world, Calla.”
I hesitate for only a second before stepping inside.
The moment I cross the threshold, I feel him behind me, close enough to touch, close enough that his breath brushes the back of my neck. The air in the room is warmer, filled with the faint scent of smoke, old books, and something darker beneath it that feels like him.
I don’t know what’s waiting for me in this place, but I know one thing for sure. Whatever this is, whatever he is… I’m already too far gone to turn back now.
I stand there for a moment, staring into the room.
It’s beautiful, but not in a modern way.
Everything feels old, like time stopped here centuries ago and no one told the walls.
Heavy velvet curtains hang from floor to ceiling, drawn halfway over tall windows that let in silver slivers of moonlight.
The furniture is dark wood and leather, carved with details too intricate to be new.
A fire burns low in the stone hearth, throwing soft gold light across the room. It smells faintly of cedar and smoke and something I can’t place, something sharp and ancient that makes my pulse jump.
Damien walks past me, moving with that same quiet grace, and lights a few candles on the mantel. The flickering glow chases away the shadows just enough for me to see the shelves lining the walls, rows and rows of old books, some with spines cracked and titles I can’t read.
“You live here?” I ask, my voice barely steady.
He glances over his shoulder. “I do.”
“It’s like a museum.”
“Or a tomb,” he says softly, not turning back right away. “Depends on how you look at it.”
The way he says it makes something twist in my chest.
He finally faces me again, and for the first time tonight, he looks a little uncertain. “You’re afraid.”
I shake my head automatically, then stop halfway. “I don’t know what I am. You said those people were vampires.”
“They are.”
“And you, ” My voice falters. “You’re one of them.”
His eyes darken, the candlelight catching on something ancient in them. “Yes.”
The word shouldn’t sound gentle, but somehow it does.
I take a step back, but the room doesn’t feel threatening. It feels… charged. Like the air itself is aware of him. “So all of this, the party, the people, it’s real?”
“Real,” he says quietly. “Every year, I open my doors to both worlds. It’s easier to hide what we are in plain sight than to keep it secret in the dark.”
My pulse thunders in my ears. “You were looking for someone.”
He nods once. “You.”
I can’t breathe again. The room feels smaller, heavier. “You didn’t even know me.”
“I knew your soul,” he says simply. “I’ve felt it calling to me for centuries. Tonight, it finally answered.”
The words shouldn’t make sense. They should scare me. And they do. But the fear tangles with something deeper, something that feels like recognition. Like my body understands him even if my mind refuses to.
He steps closer, his gaze never leaving mine. “You felt it too. I know you did.”
I swallow hard, my voice a whisper. “It felt like I was drowning and breathing at the same time.”
He exhales slowly, like that admission undoes him a little. “That’s what it feels like.”
For a long moment, neither of us moves. The only sound is the fire crackling softly in the hearth. Then Damien reaches for me again, slow and careful, giving me every chance to stop him. His hand finds mine, his fingers warm and steady.
“You shouldn’t have come here tonight,” he says quietly. “But now that you have…” He trails off, his thumb brushing against my pulse. “You can’t pretend you didn’t see.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”
He studies me, his expression unreadable. Then, softly, like he’s confessing a sin, he says, “This is the part where I should tell you to leave.”
“But you won’t,” I say before I can stop myself.
His mouth curves slightly. “No. I won’t.”
The space between us disappears. He doesn’t touch me, not yet, but I can feel the pull of him like gravity. My breath catches. I should be terrified, but the truth is far worse.
I’ve never felt safer in my life.
For a while, neither of us speaks. The fire crackles, a soft steady sound that fills the silence between heartbeats. I can feel him watching me, still, controlled, but there’s something burning behind his eyes that makes it hard to breathe.
“What happens now?” I finally ask. My voice sounds small, but it’s the only thing I can manage.
Damien’s jaw tightens slightly. He looks away, as if the question costs him something. “Now,” he says slowly, “I tell you the truth.”
I swallow hard. “The truth about what?”
“About us.”
That word sends a strange chill through me. “There is no us,” I whisper, even though part of me already knows that’s a lie.
He turns back to me, and the way he looks at me makes my skin prickle. “There has been an us since before you were born, Calla. Since before you ever took your first breath.”
I shake my head, but the air feels thick, electric. “You sound insane.”
“Maybe I am.” His voice is soft, almost sad. “A thousand years of waiting for one soul can do that to a man.”
Something in my chest aches at that, and I hate it, hate that I care when I should be running out the door. “Waiting for what?” I ask.
His gaze doesn’t waver. “For you. For my mate.”
The word hits me like a spark. “Your, your what?”
“My mate,” he repeats quietly, stepping closer. “The other half of my soul. The one I’ve searched for across centuries. Across lifetimes.”
I blink, heat rising in my cheeks. “That’s not… I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means your soul mirrors mine. It means that every lifetime I’ve walked this earth, I’ve been searching for you without knowing your name.” His voice drops lower, rougher. “It means I am yours as much as you are mine.”
The room tilts a little. I take a shaky breath, every nerve in my body fighting between disbelief and the pull that keeps dragging me toward him. “You can’t just say things like that.”
“I can’t help it,” he says. “It’s the truth.”
I shake my head, trying to clear it, but it’s useless. The world feels strange now, too sharp, too alive. I can feel the thrum of my pulse, the hum of the air, the fire’s heat against my skin. Everything is louder. Brighter.
“What if I don’t want this?” I whisper.
He goes very still. “Then I’ll never touch you again. But it won’t change what you are.”
The honesty in his voice knocks the air out of me. It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.
“I don’t even know what we are,” I say, my throat tight.
His eyes soften. He steps close enough for the firelight to paint his face in gold and shadow. “Then I’ll show you. Slowly. Safely. You decide how far you go.”
My pulse thrums wildly. I should be terrified, but instead I feel this strange, aching calm. Like some part of me already trusts him.
“Why me?” I whisper. “Out of everyone in the world, why me?”
He exhales, his hand lifting as if he wants to touch me but doesn’t. “Because the universe only makes one soul for each of us. And when I found you…” He pauses, his voice dropping to a whisper. “When I found you, I finally felt alive again.”
Something inside me cracks open. I don’t know if I believe in fate, or magic, or anything he’s saying, but when he looks at me like that, like I’m the first sunrise he’s seen in a thousand years, I almost want to.
I shake my head, forcing the words out. “What if I don’t agree to be your mate?”
For a second, he doesn’t move. Then a sound breaks from him, low and rough, almost strangled. I look up, startled. His expression has shifted, all composure gone. There’s pain in his eyes, raw, ancient, unguarded.
“You’ll always be mine, Calla,” he says quietly. “But I’ll never force you into anything you don’t want.”
The words hit me like a knife. I can feel his pain, can feel it humming through the air like it’s alive. It guts me, because I know he means it. Every word.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying to make sense of any of this. How could we even be together? I’m human. He’s not. He’s been alive for longer than I can imagine, and I’m just a girl who thought this was a Halloween party.
“How would this even work?” I whisper. “You drink blood. I pay rent. You’ve seen empires rise and fall, and I’ve barely managed to pay off my student loans.”
Something like a smile ghosts across his lips, sad and faint. “You make it sound impossible.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Maybe,” he admits. “But impossible doesn’t mean wrong.”
My heart thuds painfully. “I don’t understand any of this. Why me? Why now?”
He exhales, slow and steady. “Because I stopped believing she existed. And then you walked into my house wearing sunlight.”
I can’t speak. I just stand there, shaking, half in awe and half in denial.
He steps closer, close enough that the heat of him cuts through the cold.
“You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” he murmurs.
“You can walk out that door right now, and I’ll let you.
But if you stay…” His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes.
“Then you’ll know what it means to be mine. ”
My breath catches. I want to say no. I should say no. But my body doesn’t listen. My pulse hammers so loud it’s all I can hear.
Maybe this is madness. Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s both.
All I know is that standing here in this room, with him, I’ve never felt more alive.