"Sorry—it wasn't Naomi. It's Nora, the girl with short hair," Mallory's voice came through the phone. Both Simon and Stella listened carefully.
"What about Nora?" Stella asked, her tone edged with impatience.
"I saw her snooping around your house, but luckily, she couldn't get in," Mallory replied.
"She won't be able to," Simon said calmly, his voice firm.
Stella turned to him, frowning. "What do you mean?"
Simon met her gaze, unbothered by her questioning tone. "I put a protection spell around your house a long time ago," he said matter-of-factly.
Stella froze, the weight of his words sinking in. Why hadn't he told her this before?
Mallory's voice broke the silence. "Fine, you two sort this out. And Stella, for God's sake, answer the phone next time!"
Before Mallory could hang up, Simon snatched the phone from Stella's hand. His tone turned dark, his voice low and threatening. "Next time you try a spell like that—one that harms her—I'll come to you myself. And you won't like how it ends."
Mallory didn't flinch. Her sharp reply came quick. "First of all, Grandmother didn't want Stella to know, so I had to be discreet. And second, I wasn't talking to you, Simon—I was talking to Stella. So how about you stay out of it?"
The line clicked, the call ended abruptly.
Stella sat back on the couch, gripping the phone tightly in her hand. Her mind swirled with unanswered questions and emotions she couldn't quite sort through.
"When did you put the spell, Simon?" Stella asked, her voice calm but laced with curiosity.
"Long ago," Simon replied simply.
"How long ago, and for whom?" Stella pressed, tilting her head to look up at him.
"Nearly seven years ago," he said, running a hand through his hair, a hint of unease flashing across his face.
"Why?" she asked, her tone steady, though her eyes searched his for answers.
"I was the one who recommended the houses to your grandmother. I knew you'd be safe in my house, and Mallory in the manor," Simon admitted.
Stella's brows furrowed, her expression shifting from confusion to realization. "Your house?" she questioned, rising from the couch and standing in front of him.
"The house you're living in—it's mine. Or at least, it was," Simon said quietly.
Her eyes widened, hardening almost immediately with anger. "You wanted me there. You orchestrated this."
"I did," he confessed. "I wanted you to be safe, and I made it happen."
Stella crossed her arms, her anger bubbling to the surface. "How many secrets do you have, Simon? I'm tired. No matter how hard I try, you never tell me anything. You know everything about me, but I know nothing about you." Her voice wavered slightly, betraying the hurt she was trying to mask.
Simon opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn't finished.
"The barrier between us—it'll never break unless you tell me everything, Simon. I've accepted so many things about you, without question. Is it really so hard for you to open up, just to me? Do I mean that lit—"
Simon cut her off, pulling her close in one swift motion.
"No, little fish, you mean everything to me," he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion. "But if I tell you everything, you'll hate me. And I can't—" His voice faltered, and he let out a shaky breath.
Simon was terrified. After years of darkness, he'd found peace in her, light in her presence. He would give up the world to keep her by his side, but some truths were too damning, even for him.
Stella softened at his words, her anger ebbing as she saw the fear in his eyes. "It's up to me to decide whether I'll hate you, Simon," she said gently.
He exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping as he sank onto the couch, defeated. He pulled the recliner back and reached for her hand, guiding her onto his lap.
Her back pressed against his chest, and together they gazed out into the stormy night beyond the window. Simon wrapped his arms tightly around her, as though letting her go would shatter him.
"What do you want to know?" he asked, his voice a quiet murmur as he buried his face in her hair, his lips brushing her temple.
"Everything," she whispered.
She nuzzled against his chest, her hands gripping his gently, her touch radiating warmth and reassurance. For a moment, the storm outside seemed to mirror the one within him, but her steady presence calmed the chaos.
Simon held her closer, bracing himself for what was to come. If she wanted the truth, she would have it—all of it.his arms tightening protectively around her as if she might slip away. His voice, low and steady, carried the weight of centuries as he began.
"A long time ago, after humans slowly came into existence, the gods decided the world needed balance. They created other beings—witches, angels, and creatures that lived both in the seas and on land. That's when mermaids and sirens came into existence. At first, there was harmony, but as time passed, divisions formed. Witches split into those who practiced good and those who turned to darker paths. Mermaids, pure and benevolent, became symbols of light, while sirens, corrupted by their own desires, embraced darkness. Yet, every case has loopholes"
He paused, the distant look in his eyes betraying the swirl of memories stirring within him. His grip on Stella tightened—not out of fear, but because those memories cut deeper than he'd care to admit.
"And as the gods created, the devil… he did the same. Not to balance the world but to amuse himself. That's when he made vampires—the first, then the second, and so on."
Stella's voice was soft, yet insistent. "You were…?"
"I was the second vampire he created," Simon admitted, his tone heavy with the gravity of those words.
Stella's heart thundered in her chest, the revelation sending a chill through her. But her curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned back slightly, tilting her head to look up at him. "Who was the first?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Simon's lips curled into a dark smile, his eyes glinting with a mixture of humor and shadowed truths.
"The devil himself"