All Chapters of Between Thirst and Love : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The figure steps out of the shadows.For a moment, I can't see his face.Only the outline of him.Tall.Still.Watching me.My heart pounds against my ribs.I try to move, but my body feels heavy.The effects of whatever they gave me haven't completely worn off.My hands tremble as I push myself against the wall behind me.'Who are you?'. I ask, with a shaky voice.The figure doesn't answer immediately.Instead, he takes another step forward.The light catches his face.He is young.Not much older than me.Close to Damien's age, perhaps.Blonde hair.Sharp features.Black eyes that hold none of the uncertainty I feel.He looks completely comfortable standing in front of me.Almost amused.Then he smiles.'Hello, Elara.' He says.His voice deep and smooth that hold a hint of danger.The sound of my name coming from his mouth makes my stomach twist.'How do you know my name?'. I mutter.He gives a quiet laugh.'That is a rather foolish and complicated question.'He walks closer.I insti

Hours pass.At least, I think they do.There is no window in the room, no clock, and no way for me to tell how much time has gone by.The only thing I know is that I am still here.Still trapped.Still held captive.Still thinking.Rose.The word has been circling my mind for hours.Every memory I have of my mother feels different now.More important.More suspicious.I remember the way she used to look at me.The way she would sometimes become quiet whenever someone asked about our family.I had thought she was being modest not to brag too much about our wealth.The way she never liked me wandering too far from home.I had always thought she was simply being protective.Mother's are always protective.Now I don't know.I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.The door opens.I immediately look up.Steven walks inside.He looks exactly the same as before.Calm.Unhurried.As if he hasn't spent the last several hours holding someone's life in his hands.Seraphine isn't with

Damien's pov.The fever doesn't break that night.Or the next morning.By midday, Elara is still burning beneath the blankets.I've barely left her side.Eveline keeps bringing fresh water and medicine, while Cassian checks on us every few hours.I don't tell either of them how worried I am.There is no point.They can see it.I've seen vampires survive wounds that would kill a human within minutes.I've watched blood loss, broken bones, and poison become nothing more than temporary inconveniences.But this—A fever shouldn't frighten me.Yet every time Elara's breathing changes, I find myself looking at her.Every time she shifts beneath the blankets, I reach for her hand.And every time her temperature rises, something inside my chest tightens.I sit beside her bed, replacing the cool cloth on her forehead.Her eyes remain closed.'Come on, Elara.' I murmur under my breath.I brush a strand of damp hair away from her face.'You need to get better.'She doesn't answer.I sigh.I've s

For the first time in days, I leave my room.Without Damien permission, of course.I take the stairs slowly, one hand resting against the railing as I make my way down.My body still feels weaker than it used to, but at least I can walk without feeling like the floor is moving beneath me.That's something.When I reach the dining room, Cassian is already there.He looks up from his plate.For a second, he simply stares at me.Then his eyebrows rise.'Well, look at that.'I stop.'What?'He gestures toward me with his fork.'You're alive.'I stare at him.'Unfortunately for you.'He laughs.'Looks like you're as good as new.'Evelyn, sitting across from him, smiles when she sees me.'You should have called for someone to help you.' She says, sweetly.'I wanted to walk down myself.''And Damien allowed this?' Cassian asks.I glance around the room.'He's not here, is he.' I respond.Cassian looks amused.'That's surprising.'I take the empty seat beside Evelyn.'Why?''Because I was beg

Morning comes quietly to the Donovan Estate.I wake before the sun has fully risen, staring at the familiar ceiling above me.For a moment, I forget where I am.Then everything returns.The journey.Father's cold expression.Mother's old room.The diary.I sit up immediately.I turn toward the small table beside the bed where I left it the night before.It's still there.I reach for it.The little leather-bound book feels strangely heavy in my hands despite its size.I run my fingers over the worn cover before opening it again.Rose Everhart.Her maiden name.Before she met father.My mother's handwriting fills the first pages.I read through the entries slowly.At first, they're ordinary.She writes about growing up at the estate.About lessons she hated.About parties her parents insisted she attend.About the dresses she wore.About the people she met.My mother had been young once.Not just my mother.Not the woman I remember through old photographs.She had been a girl who laughe