Chapter 3
1497 Words
Then a voice behind her said quietly, “You shouldn’t say my name like that.”
She turned, startled. He stood in the doorway, pale against the light, eyes soft but shadowed. No sound had warned her of his arrival.
“You keep breaking into my life,” she said, half-angry, half-relieved.
“You called,” he answered simply. “And I heard.”
She rose slowly.
“ But you said the bond was dangerous.”
“It is.”
“Then why are you here?”
__
Silence filled the small room. The rain softened outside, a steady hush like breathing. He stepped closer, each movement measured, as if approaching something fragile.
“I tried to forget your face,” he murmured.
“Every time I did, my heart stopped, that's why I'm here.”
Her throat tightened. “Then stop trying.” He looked at her, truly looked, and for the first time she saw warmth break through the gray of his eyes, a shimmer of life struggling to return.
“Touch me,” he said quietly. “Please.”
Her fingers trembled as she reached for him. Their hands met, cold against warm, and their world seemed to exhale. A sound filled the room: a heartbeat, deep and strong, echoing through the silence.
Not hers.
Not his.
Theirs.
He shuddered, breath catching like a man learning to breathe again. “I feel it,” he whispered.
“After centuries… I feel...” Light from a passing car spilled across his face, revealing tears he hadn’t known he could shed for centuries.
Iris swallowed hard. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling faintly. “But it’s the kind of pain that proves I’m alive.” For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then his expression changed, the flicker of fear behind wonder. “Every beat brings me closer to death,” he said. “You’re giving me your life, Iris.”
She shook her head. “Maybe I’m sharing it.” He laughed softly, the first real laugh she’d ever heard from him and pulled away before the moment could swallow them both. “You shouldn’t love me, Iris.”
“Too late,” she whispered. “It's like I've been in love since before I encountered you, I don't know how to explain it."
He looked back once from the window, rain glistening on his hair like silver threads. “Then pray that love is strong enough to survive what comes next.”
And just like that, he was gone again — leaving only the echo of that single, stolen heartbeat thrumming through the room.
Iris pressed her hand to her chest. The rhythm inside her fluttered once, answering him across the night.
Somewhere out there, his heart was still beating, because hers was.
—--------------
The next evening, Iris waited.
No message, no shadow at her window, no heartbeat that wasn’t hers.
Only silence.
She told herself it was better that way, yet every quiet second felt like the world was holding its breath.
When the knock came, she knew it wasn't him but she believed it was.
And behold, it wasn’t.
The woman on her doorstep looked carved from moonlight: pale, graceful, eyes sharp as glass.
A silver cross hung from her neck, gleaming though it shouldn’t have in the dim light.
“You’re Iris Dalen,” the stranger said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“I’m here to help you,” the woman replied softly. “Stay away from Arden Vale.” Iris froze.
“Who are you?”
“Someone who has watched him lose everything he’s ever loved.” The woman stepped inside uninvited, gaze sweeping the small apartment.
“Do you know what he is?”
Iris hesitated before she continued. “I know he’s not… normal.” A faint, bitter smile curled up her face.
“Normal died for him centuries ago. He’s cursed, bound by blood and grief. You think he loves you?” She leaned closer, whispering, “Every heartbeat you give him feeds that curse.” Iris’s throat tightened.
“He wouldn’t hurt me.”
“He doesn’t need to. The bond will.”
The woman’s voice softened. “You’re already weakening, aren’t you? Headaches. Fatigue. The warmth leaving your skin.” Iris said nothing. Her hands trembled.
“Leave him,” the woman whispered.
“Before he drains you completely.”
“Who are you?” Iris demanded. The stranger straightened. “Lucia Vale.” Her smile turned sorrowful. “His mate. Or what’s left of her.” Then, like smoke caught in wind, Lucia was gone, no footsteps, no door, only a faint chill lingering where she’d stood.
Iris sank onto the couch, her pulse hammering. For the first time, the sound frightened her. She pressed a hand to her chest. The rhythm there skipped, once, twice, before steadying again. But in that silence between beats, she heard it faintly: another pulse answering hers from far away.
His.
Lucia’s words echoed through her mind:
“The bond will kill you.” Iris closed her eyes. “Then let it,” she whispered. “Because without him, I’m already half-dead.”
Outside, thunder rolled again.
And somewhere in the dark, two hearts beat as one, faster, louder, closer to breaking.
- - - - -
- - - - -
The hospital after midnight was a cathedral of machines. Monitors hummed like distant choirs; sterile lights washed everything colorless. Iris moved quietly through the pathology lab, heart hammering louder than the machines.
She wasn’t supposed to be here.
But she needed proof.
On the counter sat a small glass vial, one drop of blood she’d taken from Arden’s torn sleeve the night he vanished. Under the microscope, it glimmered faintly, pulsing in rhythm with her own pulse. Every time her heartbeat quickened, the cell structures within it brightened, almost alive.
“That’s impossible,” she whispered.
“Most truths are.”
She spun around.
Arden stood in the doorway, shadows clinging to him like smoke.
He looked pale, exhausted and heartbreakingly real.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.
“You keep saying that,” he replied gently, stepping closer. “And yet here we both are.”
She gestured to the microscope. “I need to understand what you are. What’s happening to me.” He looked at the glowing vial, jaw tight.
“That blood shouldn’t exist anymore.”
“So it is yours.”
“It was.” He smiled sadly. “Now it belongs to you.” Iris swallowed. “Lucia came to me.” Something dark flickered across his face. “She shouldn’t have.”
“She said loving you will kill me.”
“She isn’t wrong,” he said quietly. “The bond reaps from the giver. You’ve already begun to fade.” Her fingers trembled. “Then tell me how to stop it.”
“You can’t,” he said. “Unless I stop feeling.” “Feeling?”
“Every emotion ties me closer to you. Every heartbeat you hear from me is borrowed from yours.”
The room felt smaller, filled with the hum of two lives caught in one rhythm. She stepped closer, voice unsteady. “Then we’ll find another way. There has to be one.” He shook his head. “You think science can fix love?”
“I think love deserves the chance.” For a moment, his expression softened, something fragile breaking through centuries of restraint.
“You sound like the woman who cursed me,” he murmured. “She believed the same.”
“What happened to her?”
“She died proving herself right.” Lightning flashed through the window, painting him in silver. His eyes caught the light, ancient and terrified.
“I don’t want that for you,” he said. “If I lose you, I lose everything that’s left of me.” She reached for his hand. Cold met warmth again, that familiar spark between them. The monitors around them flickered. Her pulse doubled, his breath caught and for an instant, their heartbeats merged. The lights dimmed; the vial of blood on the counter began to glow brighter, pulsing like a small, living heart.
“Arden,” she whispered. “It’s happening again.” He stared at the vial, voice breaking. “You’re giving me life.”
“And you’re giving me meaning,” she said softly.
Then alarms shrieked, machines stuttering, lights flickering violently.
Arden pulled back, fear overtaking wonder. “If we stay near each other, you’ll die.”
“Maybe,” she said, breathless. “But without you, what am I living for?” He looked at her like a man caught between blessing and ruin.
“Don’t make me choose between your heart and mine.” She stepped closer anyway, whispering, “Maybe they’re already the same.”
- Writer
