Chapter 218: The Last Date.
Celestine turned away from the lake and locked her eyes on mine. Her chest rose and fell faster now, the black dress shifting with each shallow breath, the fabric catching faint lamplight along its folds.
"The café we went to tonight," she said, her voice steady in that too-careful way of someone who had rehearsed these words in the dark for weeks. "That was supposed to be the last place I was ever seen alive."
I held her hands and said nothing, letting the confession sink between us. My thumbs traced slow, gentle circles over her cool knuckles, the green diamond pressing lightly against my skin.
"This wasn’t a date, Abram." She exhaled slowly, her breath misting white in the cold air and hanging between our faces. "You walked me straight to the place I’d chosen to end it."
The street laughter, the shoulder bumps, the way she’d thrown her head back when I joked about her carrying me, all of it replayed in sharp flashes. None of it had felt like a goodbye.
"I don’t get it," I said, still stroking her hands. "I don’t get it."
"Yeah." Her voice cracked, raw and unguarded. "I know you don’t." She glanced out at the dark water, jaw tight. "I came to the capital because I wanted it over. And that café is the only place inside these walls that can give a vampire what she needs to finish it." She swallowed hard. "I’ve lived long enough to know when to stop, Abram."
Mistel’s harsh whispers suddenly snapped into focus. You showing up here is already trouble. The urgency. Leave. Now. She hadn’t been protecting her café. She’d been trying to stop Celestine from walking into her own grave.
"The walls aren’t what you think," Celestine continued, her fingers trembling slightly in mine. "This is an investment centuries in the making. And the people who made it... they’re almost ready to collect."
I stayed silent. I already knew the shape of what she described. But hearing it from her—from a primordial daughter terrified enough to run toward death before the Awakening arrived—made the weight press heavier against my ribs.
If Celestine is this afraid, I thought, then what’s coming is exactly as final as Eleanor warned.
"I’m sorry," she whispered, slowly pulling her hands free. Her fingers slipped from mine one by one, reluctant. "I didn’t mean to dump all of that on you."
"It’s okay." I lifted my hand and brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek, fingertips grazing cool skin. For the first time tonight, the centuries fell away. All I saw was a woman bone-deep exhausted, the kind of tired no amount of time could heal. "It’s okay, Celestine."
I pulled her in.
She let me. Her head came to rest against my chest, and the night went still around us. Her heartbeat thudded hard and fast against my sternum—far quicker than it should have been for someone who didn’t need to breathe the same way. The cold of her body seeped through my shirt.
[Close proximity. Hard temptation for her. She isn’t used to this.]
[Recommendation: create some distance.]
I felt the rigid restraint in her frame, the way her shoulders locked tight, how her fingers curled into my shirt for one dangerous second before she forced them to relax. Her breath hitched once, uneven. Then she stepped back before I released her, cheeks faintly flushed, eyes averted.
"Let’s swim," she said suddenly, voice softer, almost defiant. Her fingers moved to the thin straps of her dress with quiet, determined precision, sliding them off her shoulders.
"Right," I said, grabbing the back of my shirt and pulling it over my head in one smooth motion.
Celestine reached behind her back. The black dress slid down her body and pooled silently at her feet. The distant lamplight traced every elegant line of her—pale skin, centuries-honed curves, the kind of quiet perfection that made the world feel robbed for having hidden it. Her bra and underwear barely registered. She glanced at me once as I shoved my pants down, then turned and walked into the water with the unhurried grace of someone who had never needed to hurry in her long life.
I watched her go, breath catching in my throat.
She took ten smooth strides into the darkness, then dove cleanly. The surface barely rippled where she disappeared.
I stood in my boxers, the night air raising goosebumps across my chest and arms. I sucked in a sharp breath, took a short run, and plunged in.
The cold slammed into me like a living thing—seizing every inch of skin, driving straight to the bone before my mind could catch up. The lake was deeper than it looked. Beneath the surface, faint visibility lingered. There she was: Celestine, sitting cross-legged on the sandy bottom, dark hair floating around her head like living silk, utterly still. She looked like she belonged there, like she had done this for centuries and probably had.
I kicked toward her, lungs already burning. I broke the surface hard, gasping, chest heaving as water streamed down my face.
She rose beside me a heartbeat later, smooth as if surfacing from warm silk sheets. She swept a hand back through her wet brown hair, lashes heavy with droplets, water glistening on her skin.
"First time?" she asked, drifting closer, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"No," I managed, which was technically true. My teeth had already begun to chatter.
"You’re freezing," she said softly, eyes searching mine.
"I’m fine."
"Abram."
"This water is genuinely fucking freezing," I admitted through a clenched jaw.
She laughed—low, warm, genuine—and closed the distance between us in the dark water.
"Let me show you what years have taught me," she murmured. "Two bodies make warmth. Let me."
Her arms slid around my back, palms pressing flat against my skin. I found her waist, hands settling on cool flesh as she drew herself against me—chest to chest, one leg slipping between mine. The shocking contrast of her skin against my heat sent a hard shiver racing through both of us.
"Feel it?" she whispered, breath warm against my neck.
[Celestine Vale. Marking opportunity.]
I pulled her tighter, arms wrapping more firmly around her, fingers splaying across her back. Her heartbeat thudded against my chest, fast and alive.
The water moved lazily around us, gentle ripples lapping at our shoulders. Above, the fractured city lights danced and shimmered across the surface in broken gold and white. Whatever Celestine had come to the capital to end tonight, she was still here—half-naked in a freezing lake at midnight, pressed warm and close against someone who wasn’t letting go.
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