Chapter 7
The silence after is almost too much.
It’s warm and soft and full of things I don’t have words for. My body still feels like it’s humming, like every nerve is tuned to him and only him.
Then, from somewhere across the room, my phone starts to ring.
The sound feels almost wrong here, too bright, too human. Damien reaches over to the chair where I tossed my purse and pulls it free, the black leather looking small in his hands.
“It’s buzzing,” he says quietly, his voice still low and rough from everything we just shared.
I take it from him, my fingers brushing his. The screen lights up with a message from Brooke.
Brooke: Where are you?
Brooke: Are you okay? We’ve looked everywhere for you.
A pang of guilt slides through me, sharp and sudden. My stomach twists. “I should go,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
His head lifts. “Go?”
I nod, clutching the phone like it might anchor me to something real. “I came here with my friends. They can’t find me. It’s freaking them out.”
Damien sits up a little, the sheet slipping low on his waist. He studies me in that quiet, unnerving way of his, like he’s already seen the decision forming before I even make it. “I can take you home,” he says softly. “When you’re ready.”
I shake my head quickly. “No. I need to go now.”
Something flickers across his expression, disappointment, maybe, or something deeper. “You need to think,” he says, more statement than question.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I do.”
The air between us tightens, full of words neither of us says. He nods once, slow, controlled, like he’s trying not to push.
I start to slide out of bed, gathering the scattered pieces of myself, my dress, my shoes, what’s left of my composure. Every movement feels strange, heavy, like I’m walking through water. I can still feel his warmth on my skin, the echo of his heartbeat in my chest.
Part of me wants to stay. The sane part, the one that still believes in the ordinary world, knows I can’t.
I slip my dress over my shoulders, the yellow fabric whispering against my skin. My hands fumble for the zipper, but before I can reach it, Damien moves behind me. His fingers brush mine, steady and sure.
“Let me,” he murmurs.
The sound of the zipper sliding up feels too intimate, too final. His touch trails lightly up my spine, a line of warmth that makes me shiver. When he reaches the top, he pauses. I can feel his breath against my neck.
Then his lips press softly to the place where he bit me.
It’s not painful. It’s tender. Gentle. The kind of kiss that feels like a promise. A claim. A plea.
“Stay with me, Calla,” he whispers against my skin. “Stay, and I’ll make you happier than you’ve ever been.”
For a heartbeat, I almost say yes. The words hover on my tongue, aching to be spoken.
Because a part of me believes him. Maybe all of me does. The way he says it, it’s not empty, not manipulative. It’s raw. Honest. Desperate in a way that cuts straight through me.
But another part, the one that still remembers who I was before tonight, fights to breathe.
I turn to face him, and the look in his eyes nearly undoes me. There’s centuries of loneliness in that gaze, but also something brighter, something I can’t name.
“I can’t,” I whisper, the words breaking on the way out. “I want to, but I can’t. Not right now.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t argue. His jaw tightens, his expression unreadable, but his hand stays on my arm, light, careful, unwilling to let go.
“I understand,” he says softly. “But you’ll come back. You have to. You’re part of me now.”
His words sink deep, echoing in places I didn’t know existed. And when I finally step away, my heart feels like it’s being pulled in two directions, one toward the door, and one that will always, somehow, lead back to him.
I text Brooke.
Me: On my way down. I’ll see you in a couple of minutes.
I swallow hard, clutching my purse strap a little too tightly. “Could you walk me down? I’m not sure I could make it back without getting lost.”
He studies me for a moment, then nods. “Of course.”
I watch as he pulls on his pants, then reaches for the shirt he discarded hours, or was it minutes?
, ago. He buttons it slowly, tucking it in with practiced precision.
The sight shouldn’t make my heart twist, but it does.
He looks every bit the dark, composed immortal again.
And yet, there’s something softer about him now, something unguarded.
His hair’s a little mussed, his shirt creased, like he’s just as undone by what happened between us as I am.
When I finish slipping on my heels, he moves closer. His hand finds the small of my back, warm and steady, and I feel that familiar current spark to life again.
“Ready?” he murmurs.
I nod, though I’m not sure I am.
He leads me toward the hall, our footsteps quiet on the old floors. The silence between us isn’t awkward, it’s heavy with things unsaid, like the air still remembers everything that happened upstairs.
Before we reach the ballroom, he stops. I turn, and he’s watching me with that unreadable expression again, something caught between longing and restraint.
“This place,” he says, voice low, “is my home. You can come back anytime. Day or night.”
Something in my chest tightens. “Damien…”
He reaches out, takes my phone gently from my fingers. My pulse jumps when his thumb brushes mine. In a few quick movements, he adds his number, then presses call. A faint vibration hums from his pocket.
“Now I have yours too,” he says softly. He hands the phone back to me. “If you want to talk, I’m here. I’ll answer any questions you have.”
The words sound simple, but they feel like a vow. His gaze holds mine for a moment longer, steady, endless, devastatingly sure, before he exhales and looks away, like letting me leave is costing him something real.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He gives me a faint smile, but his eyes don’t match it. “Don’t thank me yet.”
I tuck the phone into my purse, my fingers trembling slightly. When he moves to open the door, I catch a glimpse of the ballroom beyond, the crowd, the lights, the ordinary hum of life, and it feels like another world entirely.
I take a deep breath. One step. Then another.
And I wonder, as I follow him back into the noise and the light, if anything about my world will ever feel ordinary again.
Before we step through the doorway, Damien catches my wrist and turns me toward him.
“Wait,” he murmurs.
His hand slides to the back of my neck, gentle but sure, and then he kisses me. It’s not a goodbye. It’s not even a promise. It’s a beginning, the kind that steals your breath and rearranges your heartbeat until nothing feels quite the same again.
When he finally pulls back, I’m dizzy, my lips tingling, my pulse a mess. He rests his forehead against mine for one lingering heartbeat before straightening, all poise and control again.
“Come on,” he says quietly, his hand settling at the small of my back. “Let’s not keep your friends waiting.”
He leads me through the open doors into the now-empty ballroom. The chandeliers still glow softly overhead, but the crowd has thinned to just a few stragglers and staff clearing glasses. My friends stand near the center of the room, looking like they’ve been pacing for hours.
When they spot me, with him, their eyes go wide.
“Thank God!” Brooke blurts, hurrying forward. “We thought you punched someone and they got mad and hid your body.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
Tina snorts, trying not to laugh. “You disappeared, Calla! We were ready to file a missing-person report.”
Maya elbows her. “We did check the bushes.”
I stare at them, half mortified, half exasperated. “I was fine! I just, uh, met someone.”
That’s when Damien steps forward, every bit the composed host again. The shift is seamless, mysterious, confident, completely unbothered by the chaos he’s walking into.
“I’m Damien Hale,” he says, voice warm and smooth as velvet. “This is my home.”
The girls freeze.
Brooke blinks. “Wait… your home? Like, you own this place?”
He nods with an easy smile that could melt marble. “I do. And I owe you all a thank-you. Without you convincing Calla to come tonight, I never would have met her.”
The transformation is instant. My friends, three of the most capable nurses I know, turn into flustered fangirls.
“Oh! Wow,” Tina stammers, straightening her posture. “It’s a beautiful house. Just stunning. You have… great chandeliers.”
Maya nods furiously. “And floors. Very, uh, shiny floors.”
Brooke elbows both of them, grinning at me like she’s just stumbled into the best gossip of her life. “So this is where you’ve been?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Yeah. I, um… got a little distracted.”
Damien’s lips twitch with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much.
“Thank you for looking out for her,” he says, that smooth, deep voice somehow making it sound like a royal decree. “Please make sure she gets home safely.”
The girls all nod in unison, starstruck. I don’t think any of them even notice when his hand settles at the small of my back again.
As he leads me toward the doors, I can feel their eyes on us, their whispered giggles trailing behind. And even as the cool night air hits my skin, I can still feel the warmth of his touch.
It’s been days since Halloween, and I still can’t stop thinking about him. Damien Hale.
Every time I close my eyes, I see him, his dark eyes, the way his voice wrapped around my name like it meant something, the way he kissed me like it was a beginning instead of an ending.
I’ve tried to throw myself into work. Charts, patient notes, coffee, repeat. But he keeps slipping through the cracks. Between trauma codes and night shifts, he’s there, quietly haunting me. I can still feel his hands on my skin, the soft rasp of his voice when he said stay with me.
But then the thoughts spiral, and the questions start.
What would that even look like, being with him?
Would I become something… not quite human? A creature of the dark? Would I still have a reflection? Would I still love the sun the way I do now, or would I have to give it up for him?
I can’t imagine a life without sunlight. Without morning coffee on my balcony or the feel of warmth on my face after a long shift.
He lives in shadows. I live in light. How could that ever work?
The break room hums quietly around me, microwave beeping, vending machine buzzing, Brooke stirring sugar into her coffee like it owes her money. She glances up, eyes narrowing at my distracted face.
“You’ve been a million miles away all week,” she says. “Spill it. Have you seen Damien since the party?”
I hesitate, my fingers tightening around my cup. “No.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “What? Why not? He was clearly very into you.”
I shrug, staring at the swirl of coffee instead of her face. “I just don’t think we’re… compatible.”
Brooke lets out a disbelieving snort. “A man like that? You make it compatible.”
I roll my eyes, but she’s not done.
“I mean, come on, Calla. You’ve dated boring guys, jerk guys, noncommittal guys. And now an actual, mysterious dream of a man wants you, and you’re backing out because what, he’s too much?”
“It’s not that,” I say softly.
“Then what?”
I can’t exactly say he’s a vampire and I don’t know if I’m ready to give up daylight, so I just shake my head. “It’s complicated.”
Brooke leans across the table, her expression softening. “Then uncomplicate it. If it’s meant to be, you figure it out. You bend. You compromise. You make it work. That’s what real love is, meeting in the middle.”
I huff out a breath, unsure if I want to laugh or cry. “You make it sound simple.”
“Maybe it is,” she says, sipping her coffee. “You can’t spend your whole life running from something that scares you. Especially if it makes your eyes light up every time someone says his name.”
My chest tightens. “You noticed that?”
Brooke grins. “Honey, everyone noticed that.”
I glance down at my phone on the table. Damien’s number stares back at me, sitting quietly in my contacts list like a promise I haven’t been brave enough to use.
“Maybe,” I say softly, “I just need to think a little longer.”
Brooke shrugs, pushing back her chair. “Fine. Think. But don’t overthink yourself out of something that could be everything.”
When she leaves, the room feels too quiet again. I stare at my phone until my reflection blurs in the screen.
Then, before I can stop myself, I whisper under my breath, “Damien Hale, what are you doing to me?”