Chapter Fourteen
CLARA
The next day, I felt a weird anticipation. Ivan’s voice echoed in my mind… about how tomorrow I’d remember more.
I kept visualizing Ivan touching me. Even the ghost of a touch lingered like a phantom on my skin. I couldn’t explain it rationally, but my body remembered what had been buried so deep and for so long.
And every time I thought of him, my pulse betrayed me.
When I closed my eyes, I saw him behind my lids, taunting me with a thousand promises of what could be again.
The castle was silent but not still. It breathed.
It listened. It whispered things I couldn’t understand, sounds that coaxed me to remember a time before.
I sat on the edge of the bed, firelight flickering across the carved posts. I noticed I constantly smelled him. It was the faint scents of iron, cedar, and something darker, something that made an ache settle between my legs.
I hated that my hands shook. Hated the desire that came from nothing more than remembering the way he looked at me.
I hated that I wanted him to come back. I’d explored until the castle stopped feeling vast and started feeling like a gilded cage.
And when the door opened before I could banish the thought, I sat up straighter and felt my pulse race with… excitement.
He stepped inside, the corridor light spilling around him like a halo that only made the darkness following him sharper, more absolute. His white shirt hung open at the throat, his hair damp and a little disheveled, as if he’d just stepped from a shower.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, his voice a slow drag of dark sin. “You’re all I think about. Knowing you’re here, knowing your memories are waking piece by piece.”
I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t. He moved closer, unhurried, until he stood right before me. I should have been afraid of the predator in him… of the creature who had been bathed in blood in the undercroft just days before. But fear wasn’t what gripped me.
The pull between us was magnetic. Undeniable.
“I thought vampires didn’t really sleep?” I asked, my voice sharper than I meant it to be, trying to break the spell seemingly cast over me.
That earned me a faint smile. “Yes, I sleep. I eat, as well. Garlic is one of my favorites. Regular food doesn’t sustain me as blood does, but I can enjoy the flavors.
” His gaze swept over me. It was slow, meticulous.
“The sun burns my skin after long exposure, but I’ve never tested if I burst into flames as the movies depict.
And as for a stake through the heart…” His hand came to rest over his chest, fingers splayed. “It hurts, but it won’t kill me.”
I swallowed hard, not asking how he knew it wouldn’t kill him. I could assume being alive for centuries would take its toll and cause anyone to try and kill themselves. “But you’re immortal?”
“I don’t age,” he said. “I’ve never fallen ill. Not once in all the centuries since I let the darkness claim me. That’s all I know for certain.”
I looked down at my hands, twisting them in my lap. “Do you sleep in a coffin?” I asked before I could stop myself, instantly regretting how absurd it sounded.
His voice dropped lower, rougher. “No, Clara. I sleep in a bed. The same one you shared with me once, when you were still my wife. When you moaned my name as I moved inside you.”
My heart slammed into my ribs. His words slid over me like satin, leaving heat in their wake.
A shiver raced up my spine, my breath catching as his meaning sank in.
When I dared to glance up, he was watching me through half-lowered lashes, head slightly bowed, but his eyes—those glowing, unholy eyes—fixed on me.
“I didn’t want you to see me that way,” he said finally, breaking the silence, his voice quieter now, steady but weighted. “Down there, covered in blood. But I am glad you did.”
“Glad?” I whispered.
He nodded slowly. “Because now you understand. You can’t truly see me without seeing that part of me. You can’t understand what I am without knowing what I’ve become.”
I shook my head, anger and disbelief tangling in my chest. “You call that understanding? Knowing you drained the life out of something? Do you even remember what it’s like to be human?”
His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes shifted.
It was the look of a man who’d outlived everything worth remembering.
“I remember fragments,” he hissed, his voice roughened by centuries of solitude.
“The warmth of full sunlight on skin. The sound of laughter I once thought I’d never forget.
But time erodes even the precious things.
” His gaze held mine, unblinking, reverent.
“And yet, the thought and image of you remains constant with me. No matter how many years pass, Clara… it’s always you who makes me feel alive. ”
His words took my breath away, clinging to my lungs like an eternal promise. Dark, tender, unbearable.
“Stop saying things like that,” I whispered, hating how small I sounded. “You make it sound like I was meant for this… meant for you.”
Ivan stepped forward. “You were,” he said. “You are.”
I shook my head hard, pushing up to my feet. “No.” I backed away until the cold stone caught my shoulders, grounding me, trapping me.
His jaw flexed, and his tone was barely a rasp. “Yes, Clara. All I offer is myself… and the truth.”
“Truth?” The word cracked in my throat. “You think this is truth? Feeding on blood? Locking me away?”
He moved closer, each step eating the space between us until I could feel the air shift with him.
“You think the world you left behind was real? That fucker who left you loveless? Made you feel worthless?” His voice dropped, rough as gravel as he brought up Laszlo.
“That wasn’t living, Clara. That was surviving. ”
My pulse spiked, heat crawling up my throat. “And maybe surviving was enough,” I snapped. “At least it was mine… my choices. My path!”
In the next breath, he was in front of me, too close, too much. His body blocked the firelight and the scent of wood burning. I should have been afraid. But all I felt was the thrum beneath my skin, heat between my thighs, and the pull toward him that felt older than the world itself.
“Then, tell me,” he breathed, leaning in until his breath brushed my cheek, “why do you tremble every time I’m near?”
My lips parted. “Because you terrify me.”
“Liar.” The word came out a growl. It was low, primal, and meant to be felt.
I opened my eyes and saw that his gaze was trained on me.
Glowing, burning, and filled with possession.
He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw.
I should’ve flinched. I should’ve slapped him.
Instead, I leaned into the touch, betraying myself completely.
His thumb dragged across my skin. It was slow, claiming.
My breath caught. It felt like… coming home.
“I see it,” he whispered. “The way your pulse races when I say your name. The way you look at me is like you’ve stared into these eyes before. You fight it because you think it makes you weak.
“Hate me for it,” he said, his voice breaking past the restraint he’d been holding on to. “Hate me for needing you just to breathe. For remembering what it felt like to hold you in another life—and losing you to betrayal. Hate me for the centuries I’ve spent searching for you.”
My chest ached, hot and tight, every word slicing deeper.
“But be honest,” he went on, his tone rougher now, darker. “Because tonight, I’m claiming you, Clara. And I’ll make you remember exactly who and what I am… to you.”
“Love isn’t an excuse for what you’ve done,” I whispered.
“No,” he said, his gaze burning into mine.
“It isn’t. But that’s all I have left. You’re all I’ve kept of my humanity.
” His hand slid from my jaw to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, holding me there.
He was gentle but possessive. He leaned in, his breath warm against my lips, so close I could taste him without the kiss.
“So I’ll use it as my reason,” he murmured. “Tell me to stop… and I will.”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came. Because I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to drown everything out. The fear. The grief. The weight of being lost in a world that no longer felt like mine.
So, I did the only thing I could. I reached for him.
Our kiss was feral. It was raw, consuming, and felt like I’d been waiting my entire life for it.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was one of need and of loss that collided between us.
Ivan’s hands gripped my hips and dragged me to him while pushing back against the stone, the hard wall biting into my spine, his massively stiff cock digging into my belly as his mouth devoured mine.
I gasped, and he swallowed the sound, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that was all hunger and no mercy. He kissed me as if he’d die if he didn’t. And God help me, I kissed him back like I wanted him to.
My hands found the open collar of his shirt, my fingers brushing across the heat of his chest. His heart beat strong beneath my touch. “I thought vampires were cold,” I whispered into his mouth. “But you’re so warm.”
His lips curved faintly. “You make my blood burn,” he murmured before claiming my mouth again.
He caught my wrists, pressing them above my head, pinning me to the stone. “Say it,” he demanded softly, his breath hot against my lips. “Say you want this. I need to hear it.”
His forehead rested against mine, the space between us charged, heavy with want, with need. My breath came in ragged bursts, the scent of him filling my lungs until I swore I could taste it.
“You can see it,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “You can feel it. Smell it. You already know.”
A sound rumbled from him. It was low, primal, and wholly pleased. His mouth found mine again. The kiss slower this time, deeper. It was the kind that stripped the air from the room, that left me quivering and desperate for more.
I arched into him, chasing his heat, losing myself in the feel of his body pressing me into the wall. Every rational thought melted beneath the pulse of want.
When his lips trailed down my throat—over the place where his bite still marked me—heat flared under his mouth. I moaned before I could stop myself, the sound breaking between us like a confession.
Ivan lifted his head, his eyes glowing faintly in the low light. His lips were parted, his breath unsteady, the twin points of his fangs glinting just enough to remind me of what he truly was.
Despite that, my body ached for him.
“You see? Your body remembers even if your mind doesn’t. But soon, your mind will remember me, too.” His mouth claimed mine again, rougher this time, dragging me deeper into him.
My body pressed to his, heat warring with the cold stone.
The sound of our breathing filled the room.
It was uneven, desperate… alive. I wanted to hate him.
I wanted to hate myself for wanting him.
But as his hands slid down my body and his mouth found the hollow of my throat once more, I stopped trying to fight it.
I just wanted to feel him. And he was more than willing to give me what I wanted.