Chapter 37: Chapter Thirty-Seven: What is happening?!
Damien sat on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and fixing his eyes on her face as she laid on his bed peacefully.
Her chest rose and fell in gentle rhythm, her lips parted slightly as she breathed. She looked fragile, too soft, too weak for a world that devour the innocence of most who dwelt in it. The sight of her like this made something twist sharply inside him. Her skin was so pale it nearly glowed against the dark bedding. When his eyes fell to the delicate part of her neck, he saw the faint, steady pulse of life beneath it and he swallowed hard. It called to him like a whisper through a storm temptingly.
As he look on, something began to happen to him. He was getting hungry.
It began faintly, then, slowly, it began to throb within his chest. This was a craving he had long feared was gone, one that came once in a century and consumed every fragment of restraint he owned.
His hands trembled ever so slightly, and his throat ached with a burn he knew too well.
Not again. Not now.
Damien’s gaze hardened as he clenched his fists. He had been feeling it for the past few days since he had seen her now and he could feel his control slipping in quiet degrees. It had been more than a hundred years since the last time the dark hunger overtook him. That cursed madness. The thirst that drove him to destroy everything in his path, to drink until he could no longer distinguish between life and death. He had buried memories of that era deep within him, but now... he could feel the familiar shadow returning.
And this time... she was here.
She would be the first to die if he lost control.
He exhaled sharply, forcing the urge down. Then, as if drawn by instinct, his trembling hand reached out. His fingers brushed a loose strand of her hair from her cheek. Her skin was warm. Softer than anything he had ever touched. So soft that he feared he might break it if he touches her for too long. He let his hand stay there and he could feel the hunger slowly spreading in small numbers in him. ’Well, at least it wasn’t as great as before’ he reasoned.
How ironical.
Slowly, his fingers moved again, smoothing her hair gently, carefully.
Elena stirred in bed but did not wake up.
He found himself repeating the motion again, and again almost unconsciously, as though by touching her he could keep the hunger at bay. Her hair slid like silk between his fingers, light and fragile and he couldn’t find the urge to gently grab fistfuls of them. It calmed him in ways he didn’t understand. But then, like a shard of glass through newly baked pastries, her soft voice broke the quiet.
"...Calithar..."
Damien froze his hand mid air.
She shifted slightly, her brows furrowing as she mumbled again, half-dreaming, "Calithar... where are you...? Please..."
The name ripped through him. His chest tightened, and his jaw set hard. That name again. Why is it that name. Even here, in his chambers, she dreamt of another man.
His gaze darkened and he let out a silent hiss. He withdrew his hand slowly from her head, his fingers curling into a fist as different emotion flickered across his face. Jealousy, pain, rage, restraint. He just couldn’t pinpoint how he felt.
He knew who Calithar was.
He knew where she had gone.
When she had vanished weeks ago, Severin had been the one to find her location. He’d gone to his witch friend, Morrigan some days before Elena reappeared, who was the only one capable enough to pierce through divine barriers and glimpse across worlds. Morrigan had burned part of her own soul in the ritual. The result was faint and incomplete but enough.
She had seen Elena in another kingdom... in the company of a man named Calithar.
A god for that matter.
And now, even in her dreams, Elena whispered that god’s name.
Damien felt a muscle in his jaw tick as he sat there in the heavy silence, staring at her sleeping form. Every part of him wanted to hate her for it, to tear whatever god it was that had made her so attached to himself. He didn’t understand why he suddenly felt that urge but he was too angry to care. He had spent centuries mastering control of his mind, his hunger and his rage yet around her, every rule he had built began to crack like old glass.
’Wait. What am I even thinking?’ he questioned himself when he noticed his emotions going overboard. Damien let out a frustrated groan. Why did she always reduce him to a puppet without doing anything?
He was already fighting an internal battle with himself when he heard another faint sound followed by her stirring again.
Elena’s eyelids fluttered open. Her vision was hazy at first but as she blinked, things slowly came into view. Her eyes soon landed on him sitting by the bed with hand mid-air, hovering over her head.
Her eyes widened in alarm.
She jerked away, scrambling to the far end of the bed. The sudden movement made the sheets slip off her shoulders, revealing the pale curve of her neck and collarbone before she clutched them tightly back around her. Her breath came uneven and she looked visibly frightened.
"W–What... what were you doing to me? What are you doing here...?" she asked shakily, voice trembling with confusion and fear.
Damien didn’t answer.
He simply lowered his hand with an unreadable expression of a wounded old man.
The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.
Then, without warning, he began to move. He crawled forward across the bed with his eyes fixed solely on her. The mattress dipped under his weight with every movement and Elena’s breath caught as she instinctively tried to move back but there was nowhere left to go.
"Damien—" she whispered, but her voice cracked.
He reached her before she could escape. His hand shot out, catching her wrists easily. She gasped as he pulled her to himself and pinned her wrists above her head. He then loomed over her, trapping her between his legs as his body hovered over her own. His face was close enough for her to feel his breath fan across her skin and is other hand rested beside her head, palm flat against the headboard.
His voice came out low, deep and edged with restrained fury.
"You still dream of another man while lying in my bed?" he said. "Have you forgotten that you are in my chambers?."
He slammed his hand against the frame beside her head with a thud. The sound echoed through the chamber like a crack of thunder, making her jump up from it.
"So what is it now?" he hissed. "You love him? Even to the point of now dreaming of him?."
Elena stared up at him startled and frightened but then her fear began to shift. Her eyes, wide at first in fear started to narrow as fire burned slowly behind them. "You’re insane," she whispered with malice straight at his face, trembling but defiant. "I don’t belong to you and I never did."
Her words hit like a blade.
Damien froze for a second, staring at her. Then his grip on her wrists tightened involuntarily. The pressure on her wrists grew painful, and she winced softly.
She was dreaming of another man and wasn’t even ashamed of it! The thought made him angrier and he looked like he could burn anything without a single care of the world.
He noticed, after something, her soft squirming under him and looked down at her again. He saw the fear, the pain in her expression, and suddenly his fury subsided.
He loosened his hold on her slowly.
"Elena..." he murmured so softly that she barely heard it.
That hesitation was all she needed.
With a burst of energy, she pulled free, sliding from beneath him and rushing toward the door. Her feet hit the cold marble as she yanked the door open and disappeared down the hall, her heart racing wildly within her, leaving Damien frozen in place.
He didn’t follow.
He just sat there, staring at the open door.
Minutes passed before he finally exhaled, dragging a hand over his face.
Then, deep in his chest, he felt the sharp, electric pull of Severin’s summons.
It was a telepathic call through their bond that they used to communicate with each other.
He vanished in an instant, dissolving into a storm of dark mist.
..................
The air outside the chamber was cold, sharp and smelling faintly of rain. At the far end, Severin stood on the veranda leading into the building. His unusual mixture of silver and black hair fluttered behind him as he stood completely still waiting for him.
Damien materialized a few feet away with a rather sour expression.
"You called," he said.
Severin’s gaze swept over him, cool and assessing. He could feel the anger and tension rising from him but didn’t bother to ask what.
"Are you hungry?" he said quietly, returning his gaze in front of him.
Damien looked away, tightening his jaw.
"Yes."
"It’s earlier than expected," Severin continued. "Morrigan has confirmed it. Your hunger cycle is returning..."
Damien’s red eyes flicked up sharply.
"When?"
"Days. Perhaps less." Severin’s tone didn’t change as he spoke to him. "You know what that means, Damien. You must prepare."
Damien clenched his fists. "I can control it this time."
Severin’s eyes hardened. "You said that last time."
A silence followed after Severin’s words. The memory of the last hunger wasn’t one either of them liked to revisit. It was like carnage let loose. The aftermath that had nearly destroyed every beast known to man. It had taken the conjoined effort of Severin and Morrigan to stop him and wipe the memories of anyone else who had seen him.
Finally, Damien exhaled as the previous anger faded into something hollow.
"Fine," he muttered. "A hundred years will be marked soon. I’ll be ready..."
Severin nodded once and disappeared into shadow, leaving Damien alone in the vast courtyard.
Back in his chamber, the silence returned. The bed was still unmade from their scruffle earlier and the air still smelled faintly of Elena’s hair. He walked over to the pillow where she had rested her head and took it up. Unconsciously, he held it up to his nose and inhaled the fragrant scent from it.
Damnit! He groaned to himself as he flung the pillow away after realizing how stupid he looked.
Damien’s eyes darted around until he found a mirror across the room.
For a long moment, he stared at his reflection.
The face that stared back was one he barely recognized anymore. His eyes, now returned to their brown, glowed faintly in the dim light. He could feel the heat beneath his skin and the pull of something monstrous beneath his ribs.
"No..." he whispered before slamming his fist into the mirror.
It shattered with a violent crack, splintering into a dozen sharp fragments. Blood trickled down his knuckles, but he didn’t even flinch. His reflection stared back at him from every broken shard making him appear distorted.
What was happening to him?
What was he turning into?
His breathing slowed. He looked down at the floor, where shards of glass glimmered like fallen stars around his feet.
Outside, thunder rolled across the distant mountains of Zerathane.
Somewhere down the hall, Elena sat alone in her room with a heavy heart and a troubled mind haunted by what she had just encountered. ’What exactly was he doing to me?’ she had asked herself over and over again but still couldn’t come up with something reasonable.
She placed her hands on her chest to feel her beating heart. Why...why had he looked at her like that? Just what was going on?!