Page 29 of Bite of Midnight
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.
Somethingsmall, 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.”
