Epilogue
CALLA
Everything and nothing has changed.
I still go to work. I still have my friends. I still drink too much coffee, curse at traffic, and show up five minutes late with wet hair and a breakfast sandwich in hand. But now, when I come home, it’s not to my tiny apartment or the hum of my ancient refrigerator.
It’s to Damien.
He moved me in the morning after the storm, after we cemented our bond. One second I was standing in my living room, wrapped in his jacket, and the next, I was watching him carry boxes into a mansion older than most cities.
He said I didn’t have to stay if it didn’t feel right. But it did. From the start.
Now, my clothes hang in his closet, my books clutter his nightstand, and he insists on making me breakfast even though he doesn’t really need to eat. (His pancakes are terrible, but I’d never tell him that.)
There are moments when I catch him standing by the window in the morning, sunlight spilling over his skin. For centuries, it used to burn him, but now it doesn’t. Not anymore.
He says it’s because of me. Because our bond changed him.
That my blood, my light, tethered him back to the world in ways he didn’t think were possible.
Sometimes I see it when he looks at me, the quiet wonder of a man who spent a thousand years in shadow and finally found the dawn.
The funny part is, I feel it too. I feel him.
The bond hums constantly under my skin, a warm pulse that connects us no matter where we are. When he’s across the city, I can still feel his heartbeat echoing through mine. When he’s near, it’s like standing in sunlight, effortless, consuming, and safe all at once.
He calls me his miracle.
I call him my storm.
Brooke and the girls still have no idea. They think I’m dating a dark, mysterious “European art dealer” who happens to own a castle. Every time they tease me about it, Damien just smirks and tells them they’re welcome to visit anytime.
They have no clue how literal his words are.
Sometimes I think about that night, the masquerade, the balcony, the moment I saw what he really was, and I realize how close I came to running. But I didn’t. Something stronger than fear held me there. Something that felt like fate.
Now, when thunder rolls across the sky, I don’t flinch.
He always finds me, no matter where I am, and pulls me close until my cheek rests over his heart. His skin is warm, his heartbeat steady. Human. Real.
“I told you you’d be safe with me,” he’ll whisper.
And I’ll smile against his chest. “You’re the safest thing I’ve ever known.”
He always laughs at that, low, rough, like he still can’t believe I mean it.
Every day with him feels a little bit like magic and a little bit like home. I don’t know how long forever is, but I know who I want to spend it with.
Because everything and nothing has changed.
I’m still me.
He’s still Damien.
And together we’re light and shadow, sun and storm.
The perfect balance of what it means to be alive.
DAMIEN
She’s in the garden again, barefoot in the dewy grass, her face tilted toward the morning sun. The light dances across her hair, turning it to liquid gold. It used to burn me, but now it feels like home. Because of her.
Calla laughs softly at something unseen, and the sound hits me like a pulse straight through my chest. It’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. The world hums when she’s near, brighter, louder, alive in a way I’d forgotten life could be.
I step up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist. She leans back into me easily, her warmth sinking into me like sunlight through skin.
“You’re in the sun again,” she teases, voice full of lazy affection.
“I told you,” I murmur against her neck, pressing a kiss to her skin. “You made me part of it.”
She smiles, that soft, knowing curve of her lips that undoes me every time. I lower my head, pressing another kiss to her shoulder, breathing her in, vanilla, warmth, and something faintly sweet underneath.
And then I feel it.
Faint. New. Impossible.
A heartbeat.
Not hers. Not mine.
Something small, fluttering beneath my palm where it rests against her stomach.
I freeze.
She turns in my arms, confusion flickering across her face. “Damien?”
I can’t speak. My throat is tight, my eyes locked on the place beneath my hand. “Calla,” I whisper, barely audible. “Do you feel that?”
She blinks, opening her mouth to ask, but then her breath catches. Her hand slides over mine, and the instant her skin meets my palm, her eyes widen.
“Oh my god,” she breathes.
Tears glisten in her lashes, catching the light like tiny stars. My heart, dead and silent for centuries before her, slams to life all over again.
“You’re pregnant,” I whisper, reverent and awed. “Our child.”
She laughs through a tearful sob, bright and trembling. “You said it was possible, but I didn’t think…”
I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away the tears that fall. “You gave me eternity, Calla. And now you’ve given me life.”
Her breath shudders. “Damien…”
“I love you,” I say before she can speak again. The words spill out raw and certain, centuries of silence breaking in one heartbeat. “I love you, Calla James. In every lifetime. In every way that matters. You are my beginning and my end.”
She lets out a trembling laugh that’s half sob, half joy. “I love you too.”
I pull her close again, my hand resting protectively over her stomach, the tiny heartbeat fluttering beneath it like a promise.
She looks up at me, sunlight painting her cheeks, and smiles through tears. “Guess forever just got a lot more complicated.”
I laugh, a real, unguarded sound that feels brand new. I press my forehead to hers, our breath mingling in the cool morning air.
“Forever,” I whisper, voice rough with emotion, “just got a heartbeat.”