"Every time you speak my name, it brings me closer to you," a voice said.
Catherine's breath caught. Slowly, she turned toward the sound...and froze.
A man sat by the window, cloaked in shadows.
"You said you would never forget me," he whispered. Then he turned to her.
Catherine stumbled back.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice sharp with panic.
Moonlight spilled across his snow-white hair, and her gaze locked on his eyes—crimson, glowing, terrifying. He was beautiful, with finely carved features and a mouth curled in quiet amusement. But something in her chest screamed danger.
"You're that creature…"
The curtains fluttered beside him, and she noticed his legs, crossed casually. He still wore the same clothes from the ball.
He had never left.
"Well," he said, with a shrug, "if you put it that way, I'm going to feel bad."
He jumped down from the window in one fluid motion and began walking toward her, eyes narrowed, steps calculating.
Catherine backed away with every step he took. "Please," she whispered, "don't hurt me."
The candlelight flickered with each step he took.
A frown tugged at his brows. "Honey, I would burn bridges just so you don't get hurt."
Catherine froze mid-step. "Wh-what?"
He reached her, lifting a gloved hand to gently caress her cheek. The leather was cold against her skin, but his touch was careful and tender.
"Hurting you... hurts me."
"This isn't real," Catherine whispered.
Yet his breath grazed her neck, warm and very real. She shivered.
"You took my letters. Then you came to the ball. Why?" she managed to ask.
"Why?" His lips curved slightly. "I came to see you."
She looked up, daring to meet his eyes. They weren't crimson now. They'd turned amber, glowing, almost human and familiar.
"I've never met you," she whispered.
He didn't reply. He simply brushed her cheek again, voice quiet. "I missed you. Those years without you nearly drove me mad. But I'm glad I get to see you now."
Catherine finally gathered her courage and shoved him back. "You're not human."
"No." He shook his head, frowning at the space she put between them. But he didn't move closer. "I'm a vampire."
Catherine gasped, stumbling away. "Are you..." she swallowed hard, "are you here for my blood?"
"No," he said quickly, brows pinching. "I'm here because I miss you."
"Oh my God…" Her eyes widened. She backed toward the door. "I should inform the guards. I'm in danger."
"You're not," he murmured. "I would never hurt you."
Catherine turned, chest heaving, and bolted for the door, whispering under her breath—Vampire... vampire...
The candles flickered wildly. The wind howled through the windows. Her heart pounded like a war drum in her ears.
But just as her fingers reached for the doorknob—he appeared.
Right in front of her.
"Heavens—!" she gasped, stumbling back.
He caught her before she fell, his hand locking around hers and pulling her close.
"Please don't hurt me," she choked out, tears streaking down her cheeks. "My blood—it's probably infected. Please... please…"
He cradled her, letting her fists pound weakly against his chest. But she grew still, slowly succumbing to the solidity of him. Her cheek pressed against his body, and his hand began to trace soft circles along her back.
"I don't know you," she whispered, voice trembling, "and yet... it feels like I do."
He leaned in, his breath tickling her ear. "You used to love me."
She pulled back, blinking. Her tears had smudged across her ivory skin. "I don't understand."
"In your past life," he said gently, "we used to sit in the grass and watch the moon together."
Her lips parted. "Past life?"
"Yes, honey."
"What does that mean?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you saying I'm the reincarnation of someone you loved?" Her voice wavered. "Do you actually believe that sort of thing happens?"
He met her gaze, calm and unwavering. "Do you believe in déjà vu?" His voice was soft, almost caressing. "Do you believe in ghosts?"
She looked down, shaking her head slowly. "I don't know what to believe anymore… not with you standing here like this."
She took a step back, exhaled, and looked up at him. "Fine. Tell me what this is."
He smiled faintly. "You'll remember who I am… and when you do—you'll come to me."
"Well, why don't you make me remember?" she asked.
"Have you had any strange dreams lately?" he said, walking casually around the room. He reached the bed and brushed his fingers over a fallen petal.
Catherine followed him, her breath catching. "How did you know?"
Everyone else would think she was losing her mind. But this man—this strange man—knew.
He glanced at her. "Those are your memories… returning to you. That's why I won't force it."
She shook her head. "This is absurd. Whatever you think happened in the past—it should stay in the past. You must be mistaken if you think I'm her."
He dropped the petal and looked at her from across the bed. "Say my name, Catherine."
"I do not—"
"You know my name," he cut in. "You said it. At the graveyard... and at the ball."
Catherine's chest rose and fell rapidly. "You must think I'm mad," she whispered.
She turned toward the open window. The petals outside rested softly on the hedge.
Then his voice came again—low, carried on the wind.
"Please."
She watched him from the corners of her eyes and blinked.
Then she saw it. His eyes.
It wasn't the first time they had looked at her like that—with love. Deep, aching love. And yet... she couldn't place the memory.
Was he telling the truth?
"Elias," she breathed.
He smiled.
Then, in a sudden whoosh of air, he vanished—and reappeared behind her.
She felt his cold hands on her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Her eyes fluttered shut as she instinctively leaned back against his firm chest.
"Every time you call my name," Elias whispered in her ear, "it makes my heart leap. It pulls me closer to you."
"And when I don't?" she asked softly, eyes still closed.
"It kills me," he murmured, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "It nearly killed me—all these empty years. So I wished... that you wouldn't forget me."
Her eyes flew open. She turned to face him. "Why do you speak such sorrowful words?"
"I won't lose you again." His gaze fell from her eyes to her lips. "I let you go once. Not anymore."
"I don't remember you," she said quietly, turning her face toward the half moon. "But something in me aches when I look at you."
Instead of pushing him away, she let him stand this close—close enough for the scent of cedarwood and smoke to drift between them.
"You don't have to remember me," Elias said, his voice low and steady. "Just feel me."
Catherine kept her gaze on the garden, where the leaves danced softly in the night breeze.
He was a vampire. He had admitted it. Vampires fed on human blood.
And yet… here she stood. Close. Still.
Why?
Because she felt safe?
It made no sense. He was a danger. She could be his prey. For all she knew, she already was.
But still—she chose to trust him.
"I must have gone mad," she whispered, mostly to herself. "Letting you in... when I've just lost George."
Behind her, Elias's eyes darkened.
Suddenly, the wind whooshed—and the petals danced into the air.
They swirled wildly around her, wrapping her in a spiral of motion. The candlelight in the room flickered. A storm raged outside, fierce and untamed, but the whirlwind focused on her—only her.
Elias blinked and instinctively stepped back, afraid the storm might drag him in too. "Honey?" he called out, trying to reach for her through the chaos.
But the storm roared louder, blocking his voice.
There was no reply. Only the fury of the wind.
Then—silence.
The storm died in a breath.
And there she stood.
Her chestnut hair had fallen loose, cascading over her back and partially veiling her face. Her head hung low.
Elias stepped forward, hesitant. "Catherine?"
She turned slowly, lifting her face.
The moment her gaze met his—he froze.
No...
Her eyes.
They were no longer hers.
Smoky blue, yes—but now deeper. Glowing. Like moonlight poured into mist. Her lips curled into a wry smile.
And in that moment, Elias knew—
The person standing before him… was not Catherine.
"She may have loved you," the voice that came from her said, low and cold. "But in this life... she belongs to me."