The Calling

FOURTEEN

PENELOPE



“What is this?” I asked.

He looked a little bashful, his gaze darting away as he carefully tucked the comforter around me.

“I didn’t have anything else,” he admitted, voice low.

“I only have two comforters—one on the bed and this one, which I keep for laundry days.”

He sat next to me and placed his hands together, twiddling his thumbs. He seemed so young and unsure in that moment. He sighed and looked back over at me.

“I didn’t know you were coming, or I would have had some things that were more comfortable. I would have prepared...” he trailed off as I shook my head.

“You would have lied,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “You’d have bought a bunch of things to create some illusion of perfection. Dex, come on.” I paused, my throat tightening. “This is the first time I’ve ever been here, and I wasn’t even invited. I came tonight because I wanted to see you—the real you—and figure out where we go from here.”

We had been doing this dance for two months since I learned his secret. He would be all in one moment and gone the next. I had lied to my best friend and my family. I had done everything in my power to protect him. I had been his secret, and he had been mine. Almost a year of this, and I wanted more. I wanted all of him. At one point, he had wanted the same thing... until this morning.

He sat away from me, looking toward the open balcony door. We could hear sirens from the city below.

“Dex, I need to know why you told me this morning that we needed to end things,” I whispered, wiping my tears away.

He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling with a heavy breath. Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating, as if the weight of his thoughts hung in the air.

“Dex?” I asked after what felt like hours, though it had only been minutes.

“When I courted you back then, I thought you were the one. I thought you were my soul bond. Everything seemed right with you. I hid you away to keep you safe from Kadasha. I wanted it to be you...” He trailed off again.

“What changed?” I asked, much more boldly than I felt.

“Elara,” he whispered.

I froze, his words echoing in my mind like a siren. Elara? My vision blurred, and it felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. Panic clawed at my chest. What did he mean? Had I missed something—some sign, some warning? Was she trying to tell me when she visited last night? Dexter had fed on me too aggressively, and I barely remembered her visit. Elara had said nothing when we went shopping today. Then it hit me. She had been asking about Dexter, walking on eggshells around me, tiptoeing to try to find things out about him. Dexter reached for me, but I shoved his hands away and stood. Tears poured down my face. Had he lied again? Had he been seeing her all these months too?

“Penelope, hey, hey... Sit down, love. I can see you spiraling. It’s not what you think.”

I whirled around on him and shoved him back down on the couch.

“HOW MUCH MORE WILL YOU TAKE FROM ME?!” I screamed, my voice cracking under the weight of my fury. Tears streamed down my face as I collapsed into sobs.

“How much more do you expect me to endure?” My voice broke again, raw and jagged.

His face was pained, and he crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“I haven’t been with Elara. But I realized in the last month that she doesn’t succumb to my powers. At all. She doesn’t desire me, she isn’t charmed by me. Hell, she’s disgusted by me. Elara hates me,” he said, trying to reason with me.

“Good,” I sobbed.

“I need you to understand that I never wanted this. I wanted it to be you more than anything in any of these worlds, Penelope. But Elara doesn’t react to my power, and I think she might be my soul bond. I don’t know what that means for us or for any of this. But I have to make sure I get my soul bond to save my family. This is bigger than us.”

I nodded, hearing the reason in his words, but the crying intensified, and I began sobbing uncontrollably. Dexter hugged me tightly. He lifted me and carried me down the hall to his room. He laid me down on the bed with the same black comforter that had been wrapped around me. I buried myself into his pillow, which reeked of his scent, and just cried.

I felt Dexter lie down behind me and cradle me until I finally cried myself to sleep. My dreams were awful. I dreamed of Dexter leaving. I dreamed of him with Elara.

I woke several times during the night, my tears soaking into the pillow. Each time, Dexter held me silently, his warmth steady against my back. I wanted to pull away, to find the strength to leave, but my body betrayed me. I stayed, tethered to him by my pain and my love, unable to let go. This dance felt eternal. Like I would never escape. But honestly, I knew in my heart that I didn’t really want to. It was about midnight when I woke up the last time. I felt disoriented, and my face ached. I called out to Dexter, but there was no response. I patted the bed behind me and found it empty. I sat up, looking around the dark room. The only light came from the city’s aura in the streets below, the few stars visible from the window, and the light coming in from the barely open door that led to the hallway. I reached for the lamp next to the bed. It came on as soon as my fingers grazed the silver metal. I jumped a little, not expecting the light to respond like that.

I looked at the lamp, a silver base with a white, square lampshade. Very basic. I glanced around the now-illuminated room. Gray, flat curtains hung over two large windows that went down to the floor. A black leather chaise lounge sat in front of the window with a black floor-length lamp. There was a door to a bathroom and another to a closet. A dresser held another lamp and a bookshelf on the wall by the bed. I was buried beneath the huge black comforter. I pushed it back, untangling myself from the monster of a blanket.

I wandered to the bathroom and flipped on the light switch just inside the door.The bathroom was a masterpiece of sleek, modern design, with glossy black tiles offset by gleaming silver accents. The shower stretched across one wall, its rainfall ceiling promising indulgence, while a series of buttons hinted at sauna settings. It wasn’t just functional—it was luxury in its purest form. I peeked in, and the bathtub had slots for jets. My mouth fell open. This bathroom was a dream.

I looked into the vanity mirror over the stone sinks and groaned. I looked awful. My eye makeup was smudged and running down my face, and my hair was a rat’s nest. My bag and all the things I had purchased at the mall earlier in the day were out in the living room. I guessed that’s where Dexter was. Maybe he had decided to sleep on the couch to give me some space. I sighed, knowing I might have to look like this to get the brush from my purse.

I quickly ran some water and wiped as much of the makeup off as I could, then ran my fingers through my hair to neaten it. I didn’t even have anything to put it up without my bag. I checked myself in the mirror once more. This would have to do. I shut the light off and went to the bedroom door. The door was ajar and barely open. I pulled it open and looked down the hallway. I could hear Dexter quietly speaking.

I crept down the hallway, each step deliberate and silent, my back pressed firmly against the cool wall. Shadows danced in the dim light, and my breath hitched as I neared the living room.I kept myself on the side of the wall where Dexter would have a hard time seeing me. I listened intently as he spoke again.

“There are things you don’t understand, Elara. There is more to this, to me, to Penelope. I can’t just cut her off and leave her alone like you want me to,” he whisper-growled into the phone.