Page 21 of Bite of Midnight
“I’m not asking you to believe everything tonight,” I murmur into her hair. “Just… don’t be afraid of what’s real.”
Her fingers tighten on my arm. “I’m not afraid,” she says quietly. “Just trying to remember how to breathe.”
I smile against her temple. “Then start there.”
Chapter 7
The silence after is almost too much.
It’s warm and soft and full of things I don’t have words for. My body still feels like it’s humming, like every nerve is tuned to him and only him.
Then, from somewhere across the room, my phone starts to ring.
The sound feels almost wrong here, too bright, too human. Damien reaches over to the chair where I tossed my purse and pulls it free, the black leather looking small in his hands.
“It’s buzzing,” he says quietly, his voice still low and rough from everything we just shared.
I take it from him, my fingers brushing his. The screen lights up with a message from Brooke.
Brooke:Where are you?
Brooke:Are you okay? We’ve looked everywhere for you.
A pang of guilt slides through me, sharp and sudden. My stomach twists. “I should go,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
His head lifts. “Go?”
I nod, clutching the phone like it might anchor me to something real. “I came here with my friends. They can’t find me. It’s freaking them out.”
Damien sits up a little, the sheet slipping low on his waist. He studies me in that quiet, unnerving way of his, like he’s already seen the decision forming before I even make it. “I can take you home,” he says softly. “When you’re ready.”
I shake my head quickly. “No. I need to go now.”
Something flickers across his expression, disappointment, maybe, or something deeper. “You need to think,” he says, more statement than question.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I do.”
The air between us tightens, full of words neither of us says. He nods once, slow, controlled, like he’s trying not to push.
I start to slide out of bed, gathering the scattered pieces of myself, my dress, my shoes, what’s left of my composure. Every movement feels strange, heavy, like I’m walking through water. I can still feel his warmth on my skin, the echo of his heartbeat in my chest.
Part of me wants to stay. The sane part, the one that still believes in the ordinary world, knows I can’t.
I slip my dress over my shoulders, the yellow fabric whispering against my skin. My hands fumble for the zipper, but before Ican reach it, Damien moves behind me. His fingers brush mine, steady and sure.
“Let me,” he murmurs.
The sound of the zipper sliding up feels too intimate, too final. His touch trails lightly up my spine, a line of warmth that makes me shiver. When he reaches the top, he pauses. I can feel his breath against my neck.
Then his lips press softly to the place where he bit me.
It’s not painful. It’s tender. Gentle. The kind of kiss that feels like a promise. A claim. A plea.
“Stay with me, Calla,” he whispers against my skin. “Stay, and I’ll make you happier than you’ve ever been.”
For a heartbeat, I almost say yes. The words hover on my tongue, aching to be spoken.
Because a part of me believes him. Maybe all of me does. The way he says it, it’s not empty, not manipulative. It’s raw. Honest. Desperate in a way that cuts straight through me.
