Chapter 92
Elena's POV
His thumb moved unconsciously against my wrist, tracing circles over my racing pulse. "When you're near me, my self-control is...limited."
I felt the scorching heat of his palm. Felt the corded tension in every line of his body. Felt the barely-restrained something vibrating just beneath his skin.
He's not rejecting me.
A strange courage rose up in my chest.
"What if..." My voice came out soft but steady. "What if I told you I'm not afraid?"
His breathing stopped completely.
I leaned forward and kissed him.
Full on the mouth this time. Deliberate. Sure.
Whatever thread of control Caleb had been holding onto snapped.
I felt the exact moment it broke—his whole body went rigid, then he surged forward and pulled me into his lap in one smooth motion. His arms locked around my waist like steel bands.
His kiss turned deep. Urgent. Almost desperate.
His heart was pounding so hard I could feel it through both our shirts—a frantic drumbeat that matched mine exactly. Heat radiated off him in waves. My hands found his shoulders, slid up into his hair, and he made a sound low in his throat that wasn't quite human.
His lips left mine, trailing along my jaw, down to the side of my neck—
I pushed him back.
"Not yet. We can't. Not now."
I could see every muscle in his body pulled taut, trembling with restraint.
Slowly—so slowly—his breathing evened out.
---
Caleb's POV
I walked back to the sofa but didn't sit beside her. The armchair across felt safer. Distance. I needed distance.
Looking at Elena now, I couldn't have imagined we'd end up in this situation.
Memory drifted back to college days.
I spent a long time in Aetheria... not knowing why I was still alive.
Nothing was right at first. Jet lag. An unfamiliar city. Not a single person I could call.
The Vance family gave me a check and sent me away. Other international students kept in touch with family and friends. I had no one to call.
Maybe that was for the best. I threw all my time into studying.
Full scholarship. Part-time jobs. Five hours of sleep a day. Because whenever I stopped, I'd start remembering things I shouldn't.
I knew if I achieved nothing, returning home would only mean more exclusion and humiliation. There would be no place for me in this world.
But sometimes, one figure kept appearing in my mind.
Elena. She often appeared in my dreams, which wasn't surprising. My life was empty—no friends, and the only bit of kindness I'd ever felt came from her.
Those dreams were all mundane. In them, she wouldn't leave me for Damon. We could talk like normal people. Have coffee together. Watch a movie.
When I woke up, there'd be a moment that made me feel—maybe living still had some meaning.
That's when I knew I had to come back. Not to the Vance family. But to her side.
I came home. Didn't tell anyone. The Vances wouldn't have cared anyway.
I had no way to reach her. No phone number. No excuse to show up at her door. Just the knowledge that she lived somewhere in the Blackwood district, in a house I'd never been invited to.
So I waited.
The first two days, I parked across from the manor gates at dawn, watched luxury cars come and go. No sign of her. By sunset, my legs were numb from standing.
Day three. I almost didn't go back. Told myself this was insane, that she'd probably forgotten I existed. But my feet carried me there anyway, to that same corner where I could see the main road without being obvious about it.
And then—there she was.
She walked out of the manor district around two PM, bundled in a white puffer jacket that made her look impossibly small. Snow boots. A fuzzy hat with ridiculous pom-poms. Her hair had grown long, chestnut waves falling past her shoulders.
Four years. Since high school graduation, since I'd left this city believing I'd never belong here. She'd changed. Grown up. But I'd have recognized her anywhere.
I followed her.
Kept thirty meters back, stayed on the opposite sidewalk. My heart hammered so hard. Part of me wanted to close the distance, see her face clearly, confirm she was real and not just another dream. The other part knew that if she saw me, she'd know exactly what I'd been doing. Stalking her like a goddamn creep.
But I couldn't stop. She was the only warm thing in this frozen city, the only light I'd let myself want.
Then she stopped.
There was a dog—scrawny, dirty, shivering near a flower bed on the corner. A stray. She crouched down, pulled off her gloves despite the cold, and dug a half-eaten sandwich out of her bag. Broke it into pieces. Fed it to the dog with soft words I couldn't hear from this distance.
I watched her gentle movements, the way she smiled when the dog's tail wagged. The winter sun caught in her hair. My thumb moved without thinking—unlocked my phone, raised the camera, captured the moment.
What does she do when no one's watching? I wondered. Does she help everyone like this?
She stood eventually, waved goodbye to the dog, and kept walking. I stayed frozen for a beat too long, then forced myself to move. Followed her to a street corner café. Watched her disappear inside.
That's when I saw it.
Second floor. Window seat. Damon sitting across from her, reaching out to touch her hair. She batted his hand away half-heartedly, but she didn't leave. They looked...easy together. Natural. Like they'd done this a thousand times.
Of course. The blood pact everyone whispered about. She'd been promised to him since childhood. They probably spent every day together. Probably—
My chest tightened. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.
They were a couple. Maybe not officially, but the way Damon smiled at her, the way she let him into her space—it was obvious. And here I was, standing on a frozen sidewalk, holding onto a delusion that she might...what? Choose me?
I stood outside that café for twenty minutes. Maybe longer. The cold bit through my coat, numbed my fingers, but I didn't feel it. All I felt was the crushing weight of my own stupidity.
What the hell was I thinking?