Page 13 of Bite of Midnight
I reach up and trace my thumb along her jaw, memorizing every inch of her. “Some souls don’t need time,” I tell her quietly. “They just… recognize what’s already theirs.”
Her lips part, a tremor of breath escaping, but before I can say more, movement catches my attention. The balcony doors open again. Laughter, low, careless, spills into the night as three figures step outside: two men and a woman.
The woman is flushed from wine, her head tipped back as one of the men leans in too close. The other trails his fingers along her arm, murmuring something that makes her shiver. Calla starts to move, whispering, “We should give them some privacy.” But I catch her wrist, gently stilling her. “Wait.”
Her brow furrows, confused, but she doesn’t pull away. The taller man glances up, eyes glinting red for the briefest second in the candlelight. My muscles lock. He knows I see him.
Calla watches the way the woman sways in their arms, dazed, eyes half-lidded like she’s caught in a dream. Then one of the men leans in, his mouth brushing the curve of her neck.
Calla inhales sharply. “What, what is he, ?”
The woman gasps softly, her fingers clutching the stone railing, her head rolling back in surrender. Calla takes a step forward, concern flashing across her face. “Is she okay?”
I move closer, my hand finding her waist, anchoring her before she can intervene. “She’s fine,” I murmur, my voice darker than I intend. “She’s exactly where she wants to be.”
Her heartbeat spikes. “Damien, ”
I shake my head once, quietly. “Look closer.”
When she does, her breath stutters. The man lifts his head, and for a split second, the moonlight catches the glint of his teeth, too sharp, too long. The second man leans in and does the same, his movements deliberate, almost reverent.
Calla goes still. “They’re…”
“Vampires,” I say quietly.
She blinks, shaking her head. “That’s not possible.”
“It is,” I murmur. “You just weren’t meant to see it yet.”
She stares, frozen, as the two men draw back, their lips glinting dark in the candlelight. The woman between them looks dazed but alive, her skin flushed, eyes half-closed in some bliss she doesn’t understand.
Calla swallows hard, still watching them. “You’re serious. They’re really, ”
“Real,” I finish softly. “And not nearly as careful as they should be.”
The world tilts for her. I can feel it, the truth sinking in, the fear warring with disbelief. I brush my thumb over her pulse, trying to ground her. “You asked why it feels like you’ve known me your whole life,” I murmur. “Now you know.”
She turns toward me, her expression torn between disbelief and the way her body still responds to every inch of space between us. “And you?” she whispers.
I hold her gaze, the truth already written in my eyes. “You already know.”
The question hits like a blade. I could lie. Pretend she didn’t just watch the truth unfold ten feet away. Pretend she’s still safe inside her illusions. But the bond between us hums too loudly for that now.
I feel the shift before it happens, the familiar ache low in my jaw, the heat crawling under my skin. I can’t stop it this time. My fangs slip free.
A slow breath leaves me, rough and heavy. I drag my tongue across them out of habit, the old instinct of a predator remembering what it is. Calla gasps, stumbling back a half step. Her hand flies to her mouth, eyes huge and glassy in the candlelight.
“Damien,” she whispers. “You, ”
She shakes her head once, but she can’t look away. The fear is there, but it’s tangled with something else, curiosity, fascination, that same impossible pull that’s been binding us since the moment she walked through the door.
I take a small step toward her, slow and deliberate. “You’re safe with me,” I tell her, voice rough with the effort of control. “Always.”
She’s trembling, but she doesn’t run. That’s the moment I know, whatever she decides next, she’s already mine.
Chapter 5
CALLA
