Chapter 61 Julien
Someone lit a fire, and it crackles in the quiet. A rhythm I try to anchor myself to.
But it doesn’t hold.
I can hear the others. Their soft murmurings, the quiet shift of weight on floorboards. We’re all here, sharing the same space—breathing the same air—and yet, they feel a world away.
I swirl the glass in my hand, watching the red cling to the edges. Wine, not blood. Because I’ll never drink from another again.
The memory of her mouth will forever brand my skin.
The warmth of her breath, the softness of her lips, the sharp, unexpected press of teeth.
She bit me.
A slow breath escapes my chest.
Of all the things that could’ve undone me tonight, it was that. A single moment. Unplanned. Unprompted. A claiming.
Centuries I’ve lived. Centuries of lovers, of ritual, of pretending something fleeting could ever feel like permanence. And yet, nothing compares to this.
To her.
I touch the side of my neck absently. The wound’s already gone, but the sensation remains—deeper than skin, thicker than blood. Like she carved her name there with her teeth. It hums beneath my skin like a phantom pulse.
Immortality doesn’t lend itself to surprise. You live long enough, you think you’ve felt every version of closeness. Of want.
Love.
But then she looked at me with those vermillion eyes and bared her teeth like instinct. She gave in. And in doing so, undid me.
My fingers still linger at my neck, wishing I could feel the shape of her teeth again. Immortality leaves no physical scars. It erases, perfects.
And I find myself wishing hers was the mark that lasted.
She lies with her head in my lap, the blanket drawn over her legs and part of her back. Even in sleep, she makes the room feel more alive.
I study her face, lashes fluttering in a dream-like state. Content. Glowing.
Ours.
The word sets in my chest like an ember, burning through skin and bone, rooting itself where nothing else has ever stayed.
But even fire can go out.
Beneath the warmth, there’s a flicker of fear. Because most things in life are fleeting, and what if… what if this doesn’t last?
What if she doesn’t?
We speak of forever, of bonds, of fate. And yes, there are signs. As the rune alters, her hidden power grows, her body adapts. But immortality isn’t promised.
And I…
I do not think I could survive losing her.
I look down again, memorising her. Letting the back of my fingers trail across her cheek, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
We cannot lose her.
Not to time. Not to doubt. Not to the cruel trick of hope.
“You good, man?” Sai’s voice cuts through the fog. He’s back on the bed, perched on the edge, brow creased. I hadn’t noticed him move.
I blink. “Hm?”
“You’re being real quiet…”
I could lie. But I don’t want to, not to him. “I was thinking.”
“Dangerous habit, my friend,” he taunts with a sly grin, cocking his head.
I huff softly, more breath than sound. “She bit me, Sai.”
“I saw the blood.” His grin cuts sharp, eyes darkening. “She got me too—nails and teeth. Healed too fast, and my darkness is raging about it.”
“She wasn’t thinking, she just acted on instinct,” I murmur. “I’ve never let anyone bite me, Sai. Not in five centuries, not after I was turned.”
His expression softens, eyes lightening. “And now you’re… what? Freaking out?”
“Yes.” I swirl the wine again. “Because I find myself wishing her mark would stay, but it won’t, ever. It’ll never be permanent.”
Sai frowns. “Jules, you’re not making sense—”
“We talk like forever is guaranteed. But it isn’t.”
It clicks, and his expression sours. “When the rune is fully removed, she’ll be immortal,” he says, voice low.
I brush her flush cheek. “Maybe.”
“No.” His snarl is filled with barely restrained venom, eyes dipping into inky blue. “There’s no maybe. No if. She’ll be immortal.” Then his tone softens when his eyes sweep over her. “She has to be.”
I understand his rage. I would be angry at my doubt too. But I can’t help feeling a sense of… dread.
“Kane,” Sai suddenly calls over his shoulder, “when did you and Julien switch roles? I thought you were the negative fucker of the group?”
“It’s called realism, Sai.” Kane’s deadpan voice calls from his stance at the fireplace.
“I felt like that too, Julien,” Ezekial says, moving towards us, but eyes always on her. “It’s all I keep thinking about. How we keep her safe, with us, and all the what ifs...” He stops by the bed, fingers brushing her hair.
Sai exhales hard. “Fine. You want me to say it? Fucking same.” His hand reaches out, holding her leg through the blanket in a gentle grasp. “But I can’t think like that… I can’t.”
She shifts slightly in her sleep, fingers reaching higher until they settle on my bare chest.
“We’ll figure it out,” Ezekial says simply, voice calm as he sits on the edge beside her, fingers ghosting over her shoulder blades.
He always tries so hard to stay composed. To think positive. The heavy burden of holding the light within the unit. The one who pulls us from the edge—
“And we’ll burn the realms to ash before letting her slip away,” he suddenly adds. His words steady, but eyes flashing with a sharp glint of something wild.
Kane flits over then, his dark gaze sweeping us all. “She’s ours. Nothing will harm her. Nothing will take her.”
No one adds to Kane’s words. No one disagrees. Because even though it might sound delusional, like madness—we mean it.
Even Death will kneel, if it dares come for her.
“Still think she’s a threat?” Sai’s cunning smirk and smiling eyes latch onto Kane.
He doesn’t respond. The shadows don’t even flicker. But his gaze never leaves her.
“Yes,” Kane says, surprising us all, “To anyone who thinks they can touch her and live. To anything that dares come between us and her.” His eyes flash darker, bleeding into his sclera. “I’ve done unforgivable things, slaughtered thousands, and I’ll do worse for her.”
The fire cracks in the distance, the only sound breaking the sacred silence we all hold.
Kane remains stood, staring down at Jasmine as his eyes fade back into that soft grey I never thought the demon capable of.
We’ve all said it now, in our own way, admitted what we already knew.
We’re past wanting her.
Past needing.
I trace the knuckles of her hand with my thumb. “I won’t lose her. Not to death, or time, nor the monsters haunting her past.”
“We could’ve had that time with her,” Sai murmurs. “A hundred years she might’ve been with them, who knows what they did…” He bites off his words, shaking away his darkness we all feel rising.
None of us can imagine it. It’s too dangerous.
If she was with the Order all that time, if they kept her from us, made her into what she is by inflicting harm, the fact she can meld minds…
“If they took her from us.” Kane doesn’t look at us—just her. “We’ll take everything from them.”
She stirs then, murmuring softly in her sleep. I lift the cover higher over her bare shoulder, and she nuzzles closer into me.
And for the first time in centuries, I pray to the Goddesses.
Let this last. Let her stay. Let her be ours.
Ou br?lons avec elle.