Page 1 of Barely Breathing (Merely Mortal #3)

Chapter

One

This is not my bed.

It’s the only clear thought I can manage. It pierces through the haze, settling like an anchor in the swirling chaos of fragmented images. An invisible force makes my limbs feel heavy, and every breath pulls in the smell of wood polish and incense mixed with something darker and masculine that quickens my pulse despite my confusion.

This is not my bed.

The realization keeps surfacing. If I chase the broken whispers of nightmares too closely, they threaten to pull me into a darkness I’m too afraid to face.

I am alone, and this is not my bed.

My skin tingles, making me think of the energy residue left behind by magic. The sensation is wrong. It’s not the protective warmth of my amulet but something darker, more primal. The air feels charged, like the calm before a supernatural storm.

But I don’t have magic. I’m a mortal born into a supernatural family. I know about magic, but I don’t have?—

Fuck.

A sharp pain stabs my temple, and I’m forced into a memory.

I feel as if I’m floating above my past, watching it from above like staring into the depths of a deep well. I see myself entering a rock troll’s cave home with the vampire, Costin. I hear the gemstones hanging from the ceiling jingle with angry vibrations as if they can feel my intrusion, but I can’t see them.

Morvok’s rock body blends with his surroundings, and I only see the troll because I know where to look. He pushes to his feet, and the low, guttural sound of his breathing fills the cave. He looks tired as he ambles to the worktable where my broken amulet awaits. I cannot understand the strange show playing out in front of me, or why it’s even happening. The moment feels real, but I know this is from the past. I know I lived it, but I can’t recall what happened next.

“Costin and pet.” Morvok turns to face us. Well, past us. He doesn’t seem to notice me above them watching. “Morvok did not expect you to return. ”

Suddenly, I’m back in my body, standing on the cave floor. I remember wondering why everyone in my life always underestimates me.

“Fix it.” My raspy voice comes forced from my throat, and I hold out my hand. I need the troll to fix the amulet. My weakened body needs its protection. “We don’t have much time.”

What kind of magic is this? I try to pull out of the fragmented memory, blinking hard to determine what is real and what is the past. It doesn’t work.

“You are too late. Draakmar is awake,” the troll says.

Fear fills me just like it did the first time. Draakmar, the ancient dragon who will rain fire down on the world. The prophecy is clear.

One second, I’m in a cave. The next, I get a flash of a different memory, watching a river of lava make its way down Manhattan. Heat swallows everything.

My eyes focus on the orange glow, and the lava is replaced by firelight gleaming in the troll’s eyes. I’m back in the cave, standing before Morvok’s worktable as he repairs the amulet. The air in the troll’s home is warm, too warm. “If you have failed, we cannot try again.”

He’s talking about the labyrinth. I endured the trials to earn enough magic to fix the stone and stop Draakmar. Time freezes, and Morvok doesn’t move. Before I can wonder what’s wrong, time skips forward like a stone across the surface of a pond—skittering before finally settling to ripple over us.

I don’t want to be in this dream, filled with anxiety and nausea. My body aches.

Morvok examines one of the amulet’s broken shards in the light. It looks like a gem, but it’s really a fragment of Draakmar’s scale.

“It was forged long ago, a piece of his very essence—his fire, his soul, his power. Only that power can stop him,” Morvok says.

The dragon could only be tamed by a piece of himself, but that piece needs to be fixed. The troll uses my blood to mend it. Fixing the amulet brought back its protective magic and stopped the apocalypse.

The past just stops like we hit the end of a recording. I’m now back in the bed. Alone.

This is not my bed.

I touch the amulet hanging around my neck. The stone is too warm to be from body heat. It pulses in time with my heartbeat. A low hum, so subtle I might be imagining it, reminds me of the distant echo of a dragon’s growl. My fingertips tingle from the magical connection I have to Draakmar.

The amulet is repaired. It’s a powerful magical artifact that connects me to Draakmar and helps me to tame the beast. Now, I control a dragon, an ancient and destructive fire dragon that sleeps deep within the earth. At least, I think I control him. It might be wishful thinking on my part. The deep connection is new, so I’m unsure how this works. Sometimes, his consciousness brushes against mine like he’s trying to tell me something, but the meaning stays out of reach.

I shut my eyes, trying to get my bearings. Is this moment real, or am I drifting into another fragment?

“Open it.”

I open my eyes at the familiar voice to see my grandfather sitting on the edge of my hospital bed. This delusion is so vivid that a lump forms in my throat. I know this isn’t right. He died from Covid. And yet, here he is, smiling at me expectantly. I want to tell him I miss him, but that’s not what happened. Instead, I open a jewelry box to find the amulet. My hand looks small, too small. I was young when this happened. One of my arms is in a cast after my brother Conrad pushed me from a balcony at the country estate.

The smooth stone of time comes skipping along, stuttering the moment when I would have it linger. I feel safe with my grandfather, even though I’m in the hospital. He loves me and wants me to feel protected.

When time rights itself, his hands are in the air. A swarm of magical butterflies flutters around us. It’s a simple glamour spell, but their delicate beauty looks real. One lands on my cast and then bursts like a bubble. The spell ends.

“The world needs butterflies, Tamara, as much as it needs dragons. Probably more. We all have our place.” He kisses the tip of his finger and then presses it against my forehead. Before he makes contact, I’m back in the bedroom alone.

What the fuck is this insanity? Am I having a fever dream? Am I under a spell? Why am I reliving snippets of my life?

Fuck. Am I dead?

I’m holding the amulet in my fist. My grandfather told me it would protect me. And it has. The magic connected to the stone has saved my life multiple times, shielding me from supernatural threats. Then Conrad broke it when he tried to steal it, causing chaos and disrupting the balance of power in the paranormal world. That’s when Morvok helped me fix it.

I’ve since repaired the amulet’s magic, which has given me a degree of control over the sleeping Draakmar. However, the full extent of the amulet’s power and my link to the dragon are still not fully understood. A sense of uncertainty and danger haunts me.

My fingers continue to trace the amulet. It’s a familiar weight trying to remind me of something. I feel a sharp cut against my finger and immediately lift it to see. It’s okay, but the sensation reminds me of the stone shattering around Conrad’s neck, killing him and resetting the timeline of those around me like pieces shuffled on a game board.

The amulet pulses faintly, like the ancient heartbeat it belongs to. I see Draakmar’s face. I don’t want to drift, so I stare up at the bedposts, trying to anchor myself in the fog of my thoughts.

This is not my bed, and these are not my clothes.

The bed swallows me whole in crimson sheets that shimmer faintly in the quivering light. My hand brushes the cool fabric, soft as water against my fingertips. The intimacy feels intrusive, and I sit up. An ache in my limbs is a dull reminder of the recent chaos.

Costin’s bedroom.

I take a closer look around me. The intricate carvings on the bedposts rise toward the ceiling like sentinels. Ornate in a way that borders on overindulgence, each post is etched with twisting ivy and perched ravens. I don’t remember seeing them before, but then last time I was conscious in here I wasn’t focused on the vampire’s interior decorating skills.

Like everything about Costin, this room displays a power that should intimidate me. Instead, it sends an unwanted thrill down my spine. I’ve spent my life avoiding supernatural seduction, yet here I am, surrounded by evidence of Costin’s otherworldly allure.

A draft caresses my cheek, carrying that faint scent of floral incense and wood polish. Beneath that is an unmistakable essence that is purely Costin—dangerous and achingly familiar. My body remembers his touch even if my thoughts are murky.

The idea of him draws my attention back to the present. Somewhere around me, a faint creak echoes. It’s the groan of old wood adjusting to pressure. The scent haunting me mixes with something more profound—musty and metallic, like old blood lingering in the air.

The room stretches into darkness as heavy velvet curtains swallow the light. The flicker of candelabra flames casts shadows in motion, alive and restless. Silence feels deliberate as if the walls are holding their breath.

Thick, dark wood furniture looms like guardians of another era—heavy wardrobes and an intricately carved four-poster bed. I detect small details in the polished wood. There are faint scratches, like claw marks, and faded spots where countless hands have rested.

The fireplace across the room is dormant. The mantel is cluttered with centuries’ worth of trinkets—goblets, rings, and curiosities whose stories are lost to time. Their arrangement hints of melancholy as if they are mementos of lives Costin has outlived. I wonder what meaning they carry for an immortal vampire. Costin doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type, but I can well imagine there are swirling depths beneath his calm surface that I haven’t seen.

This is not my…

“ I will take care of everything .” Costin’s voice echoes through me. I look around, but he’s not there.

I’m dating Costin. I’m dating a vampire.

It occurs to me that words like dating and boyfriend don’t fit when you’re with a powerful, immortal supernatural creature. Flashes of Costin appear before me—holding my burned hand in a dark forest, standing over me in the driveway when I broke my arm, following me in the labyrinth, fingers stretching toward my face before he kisses me.

I blink and look for another anchor to keep me in reality.

A sword hangs above the hearth, its hilt encrusted with rubies that match the deep, rich hues of the room. It perfectly reflects the vampire. It’s elegant, timeless, and unnervingly precise.

“Beautiful,” I whisper, testing my groggy voice. “Dangerous.”

“ I will take care of everything.”

The echo of his words doesn’t make sense. Maybe it’s not even a real memory.

It’s not just the amulet protecting me. Costin has saved me more times than I can count. He was there with Morvok. Together, we stopped the destruction of the paranormal hub beneath New York City. He pulled me from the wreckage of my mortal life and stood by me in the depths of supernatural conflict. But I worry there is a calculation behind his protection, something I can’t quite name.

Maybe that’s just how vampires are—always playing the long game. Or maybe I’m afraid to acknowledge the heat in his gaze when he looks at me, the possessive way his hands linger whenever he touches me. It would be easier if it were just supernatural manipulation instead of a dangerous connection between us.

But I faced Draakmar alone. I’m a freaking hero. Take that, supernatural elitists! A mortal saved your sorry asses from a lava apocalypse.

My smile is short-lived.

I push the thick blanket off my body and swing my legs over the side of the bed. My bare feet brush the cold floor, and I suppress a shiver as I remember how Costin’s touch feels against my skin. Even when angry at him, I can’t stop my thoughts from straying in more pleasurable directions.

This needs to stop. I need to regain myself. My head is still spinning with the residual haze of whatever is happening to me.

A flash of memories surfaces of Costin’s voice, low and soothing, as he tells me to rest. “ I will take care of everything. You can forget all about him .”

His voice echoes inside me, that silky tone that makes my pulse race even in memory. I hate how I crave that sensation.

Why am I flittering between desire and rage? I know better than to fall into a supernatural fantasy. Why can’t I focus?

I remind myself exactly what is going on. My vampire boyfriend mesmerized me without my permission. That is why my thoughts are jumbled and skipping around.

Mother fucker.

How long have I been asleep? I struggle to remember the moments leading up to being mesmerized. Something important dances along the edge of my thoughts.

I need to concentrate.

A sharp pang of guilt twists in my stomach as I remember Paul.

Paul Cannon is a mortal I met before magic turned my life upside down. He helped me when I was just a stranger to him. We drove halfway across the country together, and I fell in love with him after only a week of knowing him. He represented everything I thought I wanted—a normal human life.

Every choice I make seems to come with a price. I chose trying to be normal, and the supernatural tried to kill Paul and his daughter. I chose the supernatural world over a human life with Paul, and now he’s paying for that choice. I chose to trust Costin, and he took away my free will. Even fixing the amulet had consequences I couldn’t foresee. It brought back memories that should have stayed buried, drawing attention from powers that should remain dormant.

Paul.

The name comes with a flood of emotions—warmth, longing, regret. The memories of him sprinkle inside me in fragments. I remember the way he smiled, his voice when he was with his five-year-old daughter Diana, and the quiet strength that made me feel safe. He saved my life. Literally, and on several occasions. He and Diana helped me when I had no one. I owe them so much. We met at a cemetery, two lost souls looking for peace, and for a brief time, I thought we had found it in each other. Then the amulet broke, and the magic made him forget all about me. When it erased his memories, it was a mercy. Being with me was too dangerous for him and Diana.

I shouldn’t be thinking of Paul. Not here in Costin’s bed.

I am romantically involved with Costin, a powerful master vampire. Costin and Paul represent two very different paths—one is immortal and dangerous, the other mortal and safe. It was easy to choose between the two when Paul didn’t know who I was. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I have lingering feelings for Paul. I am torn between the two men, and the situation has become complicated because Paul’s memories of our time together have been restored.

I rub my forehead as if that will dislodge my thoughts. I need to remember something about Paul. He was there when the amulet broke. I was meeting my birth mother for the first time, and my adoptive brother, Conrad, had tried to kill us. I need to save Paul from Conrad.

Wait. No. That’s the wrong memory. Conrad is dead.

If Conrad is no longer a threat, then what?

I press my palms hard against my temples, forcing the memory of Paul to focus. There was a flash of fur in the streetlights outside the family penthouse. Wolf.

Dread fills me. The werewolves took Paul. I remember it now.

I was waiting outside the penthouse for Costin. Paul showed up to tell me the spell that had erased his memory of our time together was reversed when I fixed the amulet. He remembered me. He remembered us.

But I had moved on. I was with Costin now. I chose the vampire.

Why didn’t Costin stop the werewolves? Why were the werewolves kidnapping people off the street in Manhattan? That makes no sense. The wolf didn’t act like a typical predator. He wasn’t defending the alleyway because wolf territory is limited to industrial neighborhoods. He purposefully came to grab Paul.

The tall mirror framed in gold on the far wall catches my reflection. The glass wavers slightly, as though the image might shift if I blink. For a moment, I think I see the edge of a shadow dart behind me, there and gone again. It sends a chill crawling up my spine, but beneath the fear is that familiar thrill of anticipation. I’ve sensed Costin’s presence in shadows, and my body has learned to recognize the electric charge he brings to the air.

The floor creaks with each step as I cross toward it. Candlelight from the candelabra dances over my reflection. I’m a hot mess. Wild curls tumble over my shoulders in a tangle that would take hours to tame with a hair straightener. Shadows sit heavy under my eyes, their bluish tint a stark contrast to the paleness of my skin. I trail my hands down my arms, brushing over faint scars that remind me of battles I didn’t think I’d survive.

The white nightgown I’m wearing isn’t mine. The fabric clings too perfectly, the neckline dipping lower than comfort, and I feel exposed knowing the vampire chose it for me. I try not to think about his hands undressing me, putting me to bed while I was mesmerized.

I don’t look right.

I remember the feel of Costin’s teeth as he drank from me. The amulet protects me, but I still feel my neck and check my teeth for fangs. Everything appears normal, but something about being underground inside what feels like a pharaoh’s tomb makes my skin itch. Blood and shadows—that’s the currency of his world, and somehow, I’ve become caught up in both.

Older powers are stirring, ancient magics that make even vampires seem young. I can feel them pressing against the edges of reality, drawn by something. By me? By the amulet? By whatever the wolves are up to?

Maybe I’m being dramatic. My awareness of Draakmar is still new, and I might be picking up on his primeval fears.

The door opens before I can fully gather my scattered thoughts. The hinges barely make a sound, but the subtle whisper of air shifting as the door swings open prickles the fine hairs on my arms. Costin steps inside, and despite my anger, my body responds to his presence. The nightgown suddenly feels too thin, and I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest as his gaze travels over me with predatory intensity.

It’s not fair how he can command attention just by existing, how the very air seems to charge with electricity when he enters a room. Even after mesmerizing me against my will, part of me still wants to trace the sharp line of his jaw with my fingers, to feel if his skin is as cool as I remember. The memory of his touch ripples across my skin, and I hate how my pulse quickens in response.

Costin moves with vampiric grace. Vampires are the perfect predators, soundlessly stalking and eternally beautiful. It’s not fair. What chance does a mortal woman have against a man like this?

His steps are quiet, but I hear the faint rustle of fabric. His movements’ elegant, controlled rhythm reminds me of a dance we’ve been performing since the first time he kissed me. Every instinct tells me to back away, yet I find myself swaying toward him, drawn by that magnetic pull that’s always existed between us.

Shadows carve the sharp angles of his face, from high cheekbones and a strong jaw to lips curled into their usual smirk. There’s that primal energy that attracts me to him. I know there is a dark side to him. He needs human blood to live. He’s killed. I used to mock women who fell for such monsters in movies and books. And, yet here I am, living the real- life version, fighting an attraction that feels as inevitable as gravity.

I’m a fucking mess. I don’t know what I’m doing.

Every step deeper into this supernatural world costs me something dear—my normalcy, my independence, my ability to pretend I’m just another human. But staying away costs even more. I’ve tried running from what I am and who I am. All it’s done is endanger others. Maybe that’s the real price—knowing that someone gets hurt no matter what I choose.

The flickering light catches Costin’s long black hair. His eyes, dark and fathomless, hold a flicker of crimson, a warning I’ve learned not to ignore. He’s dressed impeccably, as always, in a tailored waistcoat and black trousers. The fabric clings to his broad shoulders and lean frame like it was tailored for him, and knowing Costin, it probably was.

He’s as beautiful as he is terrifying.

A shiver works over me. There is no doubt I’m attracted to the vampire, to that darkness inside him. He represents everything I’ve fought so hard to distance myself from. He’s a master vampire—powerful, feared, immortally beautiful, and seductive. His dark eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the silence between us is deafening.

I have questions.

He has secrets .

“You’re awake.” His voice rolls through the room like smoke. There’s an irresistible pull in his tone that wraps around me and tightens before I realize I’m holding my breath. “Good.”

“How long?” I ask, my throat dry.

“A week.”

The air changes and becomes heavy with unspoken tension. My pulse quickens as I search his face for answers, but his expression is as unreadable as ever, and I’m left guessing what he’s thinking.

“You needed rest,” he says, stepping closer. “Your human body needed time to recover from?—”

“Where’s Paul?” I demand, my voice firm despite the tightness in my chest. “Why did the werewolves take him? I need to find him. A week? That’s far too long.”

I shake my head.

Clearly annoyed, Costin’s lips tighten into a thin line. “What’s your plan, Tamara? Storm the werewolves’ territory and demand their Alpha return Paul to you?”

“I have to try,” I snap, the guilt and desperation rising. “I owe it to him.”

I think of his daughter, Diana, and my heart beats faster with worry. She’s with her grandparents in Kansas City, and Paul said she doesn’t remember me. I have to believe she’s safe for now.

Costin’s gaze narrows. I wonder if he can read my thoughts. I don’t think so, but there are rumors about just how much power vampires have. He doesn’t speak, but the silence feels heavier than any argument.

He moves in a blur to close the distance between us until he stands before me. The proximity sends my pulse to racing. His nearness is intoxicating and dangerous. My body instinctively knows what my mind refuses to acknowledge. This man could kill me with little effort.

I step back but bump into the mirror. Now trapped, all I can do is glare up at him.

He reaches for my neck as if examining the quickened beat of my heart. The light scrape of his nail moves along my jaw. I know I have the amulet, but a thrill of fear still courses through me.

“Did you know the werewolves were coming for him?” I whisper.

“I thought you said it was over with him.” Costin withdraws his hand. I see the accusation in his gaze, as if he senses I still have feelings for Paul. I get the impression he knows more than he’ll tell me.

“It’s complicated.” Guilt fills me at the admission. I don’t expect him to understand. He’s been a vampire since the medieval period. He can’t remember what it’s like to be human.

I could say that things have changed. Paul remembers me now. It was easy to decide when I didn’t have a choice.

But Costin has been with me through some of the most challenging moments of my life. He’s always been there, lurking in my shadows, protecting me.

Fuck. I’m that girl—the indecisive one torn between two lovers. I don’t know if I’m pathetic or just a cliché.

When I look at Costin, I can see a life with him filled with danger and magic. He’s a master vampire who controls all vampiric North America. Supernaturals bow to him. It doesn’t hurt that he has the body of a god and more than a bit of a bad-boy ego. Being with him is like dangling over the side of a skyscraper, trying to catch my breath.

With Paul, I feel safe and normal. Paul’s affection is like being held close, wrapped in a thick blanket while being hand-fed carbs. I will always know where I stand with him. If he says he loves me, I’ll believe him, and I know he’d spend his life proving it—his mortal life.

“Costin, I owe Paul. He saved my life.” I think of Diana, the girl who’s already lost her mother. She can’t lose her father, too. “Paul’s only in this mess because of me. It’s my fault he’s in trouble. I’m the reason he came to Manhattan. He’s confused by his returning memories. I have to help him make sense of them.”

“You’re wasting time chasing something that will only bring you pain.” Costin’s eyes begin to swirl in an attempt to draw me in.

I lift my hand, turning away. “No. Don’t even try it.”

I look for my clothes and cell phone but don’t see them.

“Where are my things?” I ask. “I should call my brother. Anthony will be worried about me.”

“Anthony knows you’re safe. Rest. Stay here,” he whispers.

The hypnotic words carry a deep undercurrent that makes my knees weak. The walls seem to press in, and I find breathing difficult. The surrounding shadows darken until all I can focus on is him. His eyes lure me into his will like a siren’s call, and I feel my resolve waver. The worst part isn’t his supernatural power over me. It’s how much I want to give in to it, to let him wrap me in his arms and keep me safe from everything, including myself.

Stay here.

The words hang in the air like a command.

I force my feet to step aside and move toward the door. “I can’t. Anthony…”

The space between us is electric with mounting tension. Every step away from him feels like I’m fighting the earth’s gravitational pull. My body remembers too well how it feels to be held in those arms, to surrender to that otherworldly spell.

Yes, my brother might be worried, but that’s not why I need to call him. Anthony’s childhood friend Peter is a werewolf. He might know something that can help me.

“Stay,” he insists.

“Or what? You’ll make me?” I haven’t forgotten he mesmerized me for a week against my will. It pisses me off. Still, it’s hard to scream at a master vampire when every cell is hyperaware of his nearness. I’m in his home, surrounded by his power, and he can stop me if he wants. The thought of his control sends an inappropriate thrill through me that I desperately try to ignore.

What in the hell is wrong with me? I’m stronger than this.

I hurry from the bedroom into a wide hallway. More artifacts line the walls like his personal vampiric museum. The metallic smell of blood becomes stronger, and the temperature drops. Light from behind a cracked door catches my attention, and I see a young man resting in a chair, his arm hanging over the side as blood drips from a bite on his wrist down his fingertips.

A naked figure appears between us as a blonde vampire stares out from the cracked door. He looks familiar, and I realize in the erased timeline he’d been with Costin’s sister when they tried to kill me. He won’t remember it but seeing him causes me to shiver in fear. Now, he simply smiles at me before pushing the door closed.

“Tamara,” Costin insists.

I see my clothes folded on a small table by a door with my phone on top of the pile. It’s next to an elevator. I don’t stop as I grab them on my way past to push the call button.

His soft voice follows me as I step into the elevator. “You’ll regret this.”