Chapter 8
DAMIEN
I’m going out of my fucking mind.
Knowing I’ve met my mate, had her, tasted her, felt her heart beat against mine, and not having her here now? It’s torture. Every second without her is a slow kind of madness I can’t reason my way out of.
She’s out there somewhere, breathing, moving through her bright little world while I’m pacing the shadows like a caged animal.
I want to go to her place and drag her back here, kicking and screaming if I have to. I want to feel her in my arms again, safe where she belongs.
And I would. God help me, I would, if I didn’t know it would scare her enough to make her run and never look back.
I can’t risk that. Not with her. So I wait.
I’ve texted her, small things, careful things.
How are you?
Did you sleep?
Are you okay?
She answers, but only in short, polite replies that cut me open with how far away she feels.
I’ve sent roses, long-stemmed, deep red, the kind that carry meaning even mortals can feel.
I sent chocolates. Jewelry. Things that once made hearts flutter in other centuries.
None of it’s enough.
Every gift feels useless when what I really want is to hold her, to taste the pulse beneath her skin, to hear her whisper my name again.
I don’t know what else to do to bring her back to me. To remind her what she felt that night.
I rake a hand through my hair, pacing across the length of my study. The firelight flickers against the glass decanter on my desk. My reflection looks haunted, eyes too dark, face too still.
“Pathetic,” I mutter under my breath. “Centuries of control, undone by one woman.”
But it’s more than that.
It’s her.
She’s in my blood now, under my skin, threaded through every thought I have. I can’t shut her out, can’t silence the bond that hums constantly between us, pulling, whispering, demanding.
I’ve waited a thousand years to find her. And now that I have, I’m supposed to pretend patience?
I press my palms to the desk, bow my head, and let the quiet settle.
“Come back to me, Calla,” I whisper into the stillness. “Please.”
And though the room doesn’t answer, I swear I feel it, the faintest tremor through the bond, like somewhere out there, she hears me.
The storm hasn’t let up for hours.
Rain lashes against the windows, thunder rolling through the valley like the growl of something ancient and angry. Lightning flashes across the sky, lighting up the dark edges of my study. I should be used to nights like this, they’ve never bothered me before.
But tonight, I can’t sit still.
The bond hums through me, sharp and erratic, pulsing in my chest like a second heartbeat. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.
I don’t know where Calla is, but I need to. I need to know she’s safe.
I grab my coat, not bothering to button it, and head for the door.
The house is quiet, the kind of stillness that feels like it’s holding its breath.
I barely make it halfway down the hall before the sound of the storm shifts, rain pounding harder, wind howling through the old trees outside, then a knock, faint but real, rattles through the front door.
The bond surges. I cross the marble floor in a blur and pull the door open.
And there she is. My mate. Calla stands in the doorway, drenched and shivering, hair plastered to her cheeks, her yellow raincoat clinging to her like it’s fighting for its life. Her eyes find mine, wide, wild, full of something between relief and disbelief.
For a moment, I can’t move. Can’t speak. Every ounce of patience, every fragment of self-control I’ve held onto these last few days burns away in an instant.
“Calla,” I breathe.
Her lips tremble, a small, helpless sound leaving her throat. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
That’s all it takes. I step forward, closing the distance, and pull her into my arms. The rain seeps into my shirt, cold and relentless, but I don’t care. All that matters is the way she fits against me, shaking and real and here.
“You’re safe now,” I whisper against her hair. “I’ve got you.”
She buries her face against my chest, and I feel her whole body tremble, not from the cold, but from everything she’s been holding in.
I shut the door behind us, the storm still roaring outside, and lower my mouth to her ear.
“You came back.”
Her voice is a whisper against my chest. “I couldn’t stay away.”
The sound of it nearly undoes me.
I hold her tighter, my hands sliding up and down her back to warm her. “You’re freezing,” I murmur. “Let’s get you dry.”
She nods against me, and I guide her toward the fire, my heart still pounding with the wild, undeniable truth that she came back.
She’s shivering in my arms, soaked through to the bone, water dripping down her hair and onto the floor, and something inside me snaps.
“What the hell were you doing out in this storm?” The words come out rougher than I intend, a low growl rumbling through my chest. “You could have been hurt. Killed. Fuck, Calla.”
Her head jerks up, eyes wide, lips trembling. “I, I just needed to think.”
“Think?” My voice sharpens, cracking like the thunder outside. “You pick the worst night in a century to go for a drive because you needed to think?”
“I didn’t plan it!” she says, her voice breaking on the words. “I just started driving, and then the rain got worse, and I, I didn’t know where else to go.”
God.
The sight of her, cold, dripping, her cheeks flushed from the wind, rips something out of me I can’t put back. I drag a hand down my face, trying to breathe past the rush of anger and panic tangling in my chest.
I could’ve lost her.
“Calla…” I say her name like a prayer and a curse all at once. “You don’t understand what that does to me. Not knowing if you’re safe, if something happened, ”
She swallows hard, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Scare me?” I let out a strangled sound, stepping closer until she has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. “You’re my mate, Calla. Every second I couldn’t feel you, every minute I didn’t know where you were, it was like claws under my skin.”
Her breath catches. “Damien…”
I rake my hands through my hair, pacing once, twice, before stopping in front of her again. The bond between us hums, raw and electric, responding to every spike of emotion.
“What’s going on?” I finally ask, softer this time but no less desperate. “You show up here in the middle of a goddamn storm, shaking, terrified, soaked to the bone. Talk to me. Please.”
She looks down, her hands twisting in front of her. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she admits, her voice shaking. “No matter what I did, no matter how much I told myself to stay away, it didn’t matter. I kept feeling you. Like you were everywhere.”
The admission hits me like lightning.
I take a slow step forward, careful, reverent, afraid that if I touch her too soon she’ll disappear again. “Because you’re mine,” I whisper, the truth rough in my throat. “And you feel me because I feel you.”
Her eyes lift to mine, shining in the dim firelight. “I don’t know what to do with that.”
I reach for her hand, sliding my fingers through hers, the contact grounding both of us. “Then let me help you figure it out.”
Thunder rolls overhead again, shaking the walls, but for the first time tonight, I don’t care. She’s here. She came back to me.
I lift her in my arms and carry her up the staircase until I get back to my room. I walk inside and close the door behind us. She shivers and I curse. “I need to get you out of these damn clothes. You’re soaked sweetheart.”
She nods. “Okay, Damien.” The trust I hear when she says that almost makes me lose control.
I pull her soaking wet clothes off of her delectable body. Until she’s standing there in nothing but the towel I gave her to dry off. I pull my clothes off too since they’re wet from carrying her. “Damien,” she gasps. Looking at me with longing eyes.
My cock is hard and standing at attention for his mate.
I adjust myself and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth.
Fuck. Seeing her again, like this next to my bed is my undoing.
Calla drops the towel and steps toward me.
She runs her hands down my chest and hooks her fingers into my boxers and pushes them down.
She kneels before me, her hand closing around my hard cock.
It pulses beneath her palm as she strokes it, and when she leans forward to lick the drops of precum from the tip, a shared moan escapes us.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." I thread my fingers into her hair, guiding her head over my cock.
She takes me in, sucking me down until I hit the back of her throat, bobbing up and down until I can't take it anymore.
Pulling out, I lift her onto the bed. I crave to taste her, but the need to be inside her is stronger.
I position myself at her pussy, and she pushes her breasts together.
“Fuck, Calla. Yes. I love your huge tits. How your nipples get so hard for me.” I rub the tip of my cock along her wet pussy lips and around her clit.
She moans loudly. “Damien, don’t stop. I need you inside me. I need you to claim me and make me yours for eternity.”
Her words catch in my throat. “Are you sure? Once it’s done I can’t take it back.”
“I’m sure. The only thing that feels right is you. I’m yours, Damien, now make it permanent.”
I slide into her, thrusting until she takes all of me.
Pure fucking bliss. Being inside her is both heaven and hell.
The way her tightness strangles my shaft, pulsing around me, it's the best feeling in the entire world, and she's giving it all to me.
Giving herself to me, trusting me to take care of her.
I will. I'll take care of her for the rest of our lives.
I thrust in and out, my elbows propped above her shoulders.
I lean down and kiss her fuckable lips, tasting myself on them, which spurs me on.
I pull back, coming to my knees and bringing her with me.
Her legs straddle my hips, and I hold onto her as she fucks herself on my cock. “Make me yours, Damien.”
“You’re already mine.” I hiss as she takes me over and over into her tight cunt.
“You know what I mean,” she breathes.
“To complete the mate bond, I’ll bite you again and drink your blood, but you’ll need to take my blood too.”
“Okay,” she murmurs, half-drunk on our lovemaking. Gripping her hips, I drive into her, biting down on her shoulder. Her blood coats my lips, and I savor its sweetness as she moans in pleasure. Pulling away, her blood drips from my chin.
Her eyes are heavy, dazed with pleasure, but she’s looking at me like she’s seeing something she’s only ever dreamed of.
“Look at you,” I murmur, voice torn and reverent. “You’re perfect.”
Her lips part. “Damien…”
I bring my wrist to my mouth, bite down, and feel the skin split. Dark, hot, alive. Her pupils blow wide.
“If you take me in, the bond locks. You’ll feel me. Always. You’ll never be able to lie to yourself about what we are.”
Her answer is immediate. She takes my arm in both hands and lifts my wrist to her mouth like it’s instinct. Like she’s been waiting her whole life to do it. Her lips seal over the wound.
The first pull nearly knocks me out. My vision whites. The room tilts. Every wall I’ve ever built in a thousand years splits down the middle.
“Good girl,” I choke out, because I can’t not say it. “Take it. Take all of it.”
The bond hits. Not slow. Not gentle. It slams into place like a star going nova.
Her mind crashes into mine in a rush of light and sensation and memory.
I see her life like it’s being handed to me: her easy laugh with people she loves, the way her hands move when she’s caring for patients, the way she swallows loneliness and smiles anyway, like she refuses to make anyone else carry it.
And she sees me. She sees all of it. The darkness. The violence. The endless ache of waiting. The centuries of emptiness that tasted like ash. The way I’ve been walking through the world like a loaded weapon with no reason not to fire.
But she also sees the other thing. The part of me that is already worshiping her. The devotion. The promise. The absolute, ruthless decision that I will die before I ever let harm touch her again.
She doesn’t recoil. She reaches. Our mouths meet again and the kiss is different now. Not just hunger. Recognition. Completion.
When the rush finally starts to settle, I tear back on a gasp. We’re both breathing hard. The room is spinning slow and bright.
Her eyes are wide and glossy and not entirely human anymore. There’s a new glow in them. A new depth. A little of me. A little of forever.
Tears spill over and slide down her cheeks, but she’s smiling. God, she’s smiling.
“Damien,” she whispers.
My name doesn’t sound mortal anymore when she says it. It carries a hum. A resonance. Like the bond is speaking through her body.
I cup her face in both hands, my thumbs catching the tears. I can feel her heartbeat echoing in me like it’s mine.
“Easy,” I whisper, wrecked. “You’re alright.”
She nods, breath shaking, lips parted. “I can feel you,” she says.
My chest pulls tight. “Yeah,” I manage. “You’ll always feel me now.”
Her gaze flicks up to mine, and there’s this look there, this quiet wonder that almost drops me. “I know you,” she says softly. “Really know you.”
The sound that rips out of me is not human. I pull her into my chest and hold her like I’ll never let go. One arm locked around her back. One hand at the back of her head. I could fight gods like this.
Her breath catches. Her expression shifts all at once through shock, awe, wonder, hunger.
“Yours,” she whispers.
“Mine,” I answer, and seal it with a kiss against her brow.
For the first time in a thousand years, forever doesn’t feel like a curse.
It feels like a vow.