There was something in the air that couldn't be explained by time or date—
as if the universe itself had paused for a moment just to watch them.
For Alessia, every instant spent with Liam Thomas deserved its own ritual.
The apartment was wrapped in a carefully crafted atmosphere.
Soft candle flames flickered atop shelves and small tables,
casting warm glimmers against the walls,
while a subtle fragrance of vanilla and lavender floated through the air like an invisible caress.
There was no music—only the intimate silence that announced that something important might happen.
The little Angora cat, curled on a velvet gray cushion, slept with the serenity of one who knows they are safe.
Alessia watched him for a few seconds, and as she bent down to stroke him,
he purred faintly—a whisper of home.
For a fleeting moment, she wished her life could be as simple as that purr,
so far removed from the shadowed world she came from.
Touching that small creature gave her a kind of peace she couldn't even remember feeling when she was human.
When Liam knocked on the door, it was with three soft, rhythmic taps—
a pattern she was already learning to recognize as his own way of announcing himself.
She opened with a restrained smile, and their eyes met—
a spark of electricity igniting the air between them.
He held a bottle of red wine in one hand,
and that beautiful smile of his—the kind that said more than words ever could.
"May I come in, or should I stay out here admiring you in that dress?" he teased,
his gaze trailing over her with a mixture of awe and tenderness.
"Tonight we're cooking, you and I," she replied, not giving him time to react,
grabbing his wrist and pulling him inside as if she'd known him from another lifetime.
I have no real idea how to cook, she thought, hiding her uncertainty behind a confident smile.
But after centuries of watching humans play with fire, spices, and emotions in the same pot, I think I can manage without poisoning him.
The kitchen soon turned into a delightful battlefield.
Liam mixed up salt with sugar, dropped a jar of oregano,
and Alessia, laughing, threw a handful of flour onto his shirt.
In retaliation, he tried to catch her with dough-covered hands,
but the cat decided to intervene, leaping onto the counter with a warning meow full of feline authority.
"I never imagined something so… domestic," she murmured,
watching them both with a strange blend of affection and disbelief.
Liam picked up the cat and held it like a baby, clumsily but sweetly,
the awkward tenderness of someone who'd never had one before.
Alessia's eyes softened; for a moment, the image stirred a long-buried memory—
her little sister, in a now-forgotten village, cradling a rabbit by the river as they laughed together.
The same warmth. The same innocence.
A sharp ache bloomed inside her—part longing, part sorrow,
and a deep desire for something beyond hidden nights and broken alliances.
A desire for a life that, though impossible, felt suddenly within reach.
The cat licked her cheek affectionately.
Alessia smiled in silence, and for the first time in centuries,
she allowed herself to imagine that this scene could repeat itself—
a simple life, or at least something that resembled one.
"This little guy has good taste," Liam said, winking at her,
his smile disarming her from the inside out.
The brush of their hands as they peeled vegetables,
the lingering glances, the shared laughter—
it all wove a quiet intimacy that needed no names, no explanations.
Between one cut and the next, he suddenly leaned in.
Their lips met—soft, unhurried, sincere.
As if everything they'd cooked that night had been only a pretext for that kiss.
It was long, gentle, and full of meaning.
For Alessia, it felt like sinking into a calm lake after centuries of storm.
It wasn't like the impulsive, fleeting kisses of her past lives—
those born of hunger and power.
This one was a silent confession,
a truce with her own darkness.
She could feel in it a promise, a redemption—
as if every shared second could stitch together the cracks in her immortal soul.
They ate sitting on the floor, over a thick rug, in front of the couch.
The pasta was al dente by accident, the bread slightly burnt,
the salad improvised—but everything tasted better because they'd made it together.
The wine flowed, and so did the laughter.
Alessia allowed herself a second glass,
something she rarely did,
letting herself be carried by the warmth Liam brought so effortlessly.
He told her a story about his childhood and a lost balloon,
and she laughed with her head tilted back,
as if eternity no longer weighed on her chest or her shoulders.
At one point, silence settled between them,
their glasses nearly empty.
Liam looked down, nervous, tracing the rim of his glass with his thumb.
"Alessia… there's something important I wanted to tell you," he murmured,
his voice trembling with honesty.
But she had already touched his thoughts—her gift, silent and subtle,
reading his intention.
It wasn't an urgent confession,
but a desire still ripening,
a question not yet ready to be spoken,
though it already pulsed between them.
I know what you're going to ask… but I won't let you. Not tonight.
If you want me, you'll have to earn it.
Liam hesitated, swallowed hard,
and rubbed the back of his neck with a trembling hand.
What if I'm wrong? What if I lose her by saying it too soon? he thought,
feeling the moment grow too fragile—
as if a single word could shatter everything they'd built.
"Never mind… another day, when I can say it better," he muttered.
Alessia smiled—
a smile of tenderness, of complicity,
the kind that exists between two souls who find each other without haste,
and recognize themselves without words.
You're getting there, she thought.
After dinner, they settled onto the couch.
The little cat, now awake, jumped onto Alessia's lap and nestled between them, purring softly—
a tiny guardian of the moment.
Liam held her hand in silence, careful not to squeeze,
as if he feared breaking something sacred.
She looked at him with a bittersweet tenderness,
and inside her, a painful certainty began to take shape.
If I want this—if I want this man—I'll have to run. There's no other way.
She knew the clans would never allow such a union.
Her lineage, her vows, her history—
they were invisible chains that would eventually strangle any future with him.
But for the first time in centuries, she was ready to risk it all.
Not because love had made her weak,
but because it had made her strong—
strong enough to choose, to defy, even to let go if she must,
though every part of her screamed against it.
Liam, lulled by the wine and the warmth,
rested his head on her shoulder and drifted to sleep.
Alessia gazed at him with infinite tenderness,
covered him with a light blanket,
and pressed a kiss to his forehead with a devotion she hadn't known she possessed.
Then she rose quietly and walked toward the window.
The city lights flickered as if trying to speak to her.
She lifted her hand, pressing her fingers against the cold glass,
as though she could feel the pulse of that world that no longer fully belonged to her.
She closed her eyes, letting the chill anchor her to the silent decision she had just made.
Below, life went on—
unaware that in that apartment,
an ancient vampire had just made a wordless promise.
She leaned against the window frame, arms crossed,
her gaze lost in the urban horizon.
The distant murmur of cars, the blinking of traffic lights,
the shimmer of a faraway tower—
all of it seemed irrelevant compared to the peace she felt, however brief.
He doesn't know it yet… but tonight, without asking, I've almost become his.