Page 6 of Make Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #1)

KASHA

T he nerve of that man. Calling me his mate like that word wasn’t a dagger he’d hurled at my chest with all the elegance of a drunken warlock. As if saying it would somehow make it real, like he somehow knows I’ve spent countless years of my life hoping I’d have this moment and finally feel peace.

But I didn’t. Not even a flicker. There was no pull. No shimmer of recognition. Not even the faintest hum of magic beneath my skin. Only attraction.

And that’s what really pisses me off.

I shove open the first door I find and slip out of the entertainment room, heels clicking through a corridor that immediately feels quieter, older, and far too intimate for my current emotional state. This area is tucked farther from the heart of the house, where laughter and glamor still reign.

The hallway seems to take inspiration from old cathedrals.

Heavy archways made of smooth, pale stone rise above me like sleeping sentinels, each one wide enough to let giants pass.

Golden light spills from antique sconces along the walls, casting shadows that stretch and lean like they’re listening.

One side of the corridor is all windows—tall and narrow, framed in black iron and glass so pristine it catches the reflection of every passing breath. Beyond them, a garden glows softly in the moonlight, all silver leaves and mist.

I press my back against the cool glass, fighting to breathe.

The air here is still, tinged with lavender and something older, like ancient magic baked into the stone, soft and silent but ever present.

This is probably one of the off-limit areas, but I don’t care. I just need a second. Just a single moment to think. Or scream. Or curse Spencer into the nearest shadow realm for making me come to this godsdamn party in the first place.

Because if Talon is telling the truth… If he is my mate… Then my worst fears have become my reality and something inside me is actually broken.

The corset of my dress presses tighter now, no longer armor but a cage I can’t escape.

It’s not holding me together anymore. It’s squeezing me into something I don’t recognize nor do I like.

My pacing starts slowly, measured steps in front of the windows, but soon my fingers are twitching, shoulders rigid, breath uneven, and the residual heat of Talon’s presence still buzzing through my bones.

He said he was drawn to me.

He said he knows I’m his mate .

Gods, the way he looked at me as if I’d just knocked the wind out of him and he didn’t want it back.

My hands drag through my hair, and I groan into the quiet. “No. Absolutely not.”

I’m not going to spiral over some overpowering, smooth-talking, freakishly gorgeous shifter who thinks just because his wolf has a hard-on for me, I’m supposed to fall into his arms.

I refuse.

Except…

I wanted to.

For several frantic beats of my traitorous heart, I wanted to believe him. And that’s more dangerous than anything else.

I stop pacing, heart thrumming against the cage of my ribs, and glance at my reflection in the glass behind me. The image staring back doesn’t look like the composed fae I pretend to be.

My cheeks are flushed. My pupils wide. My eyes— damn them —they betray everything I’ve been trying to hide.

“This is why you don’t do feelings,” I whisper, my breath fogging the glass. “This is why you don’t hope.”

I want to blame Talon. Blame the way he said my name like it mattered, the way his voice rumbled like thunder and wrapped around me like velvet. Blame the scent of him—warm cedar and storm-soaked earth—and that ridiculous alpha steadiness he carries like he’s a warrior and savior, all at once.

But it’s not his fault.

It’s mine .

Because he said something else I can’t stop hearing.

“Maybe something’s blocking it for you.”

That’s when I really lost it because he could be right. What if the reason I felt nothing is because I allowed my wolf to be buried so deep, she can’t feel anything at all? What if I bound her so tightly that now, when she’s needed most…she’s gone?

This might not be Talon’s mistake. It might be mine .

I lean against the cold window, shame pressing in all around me. My breath shortens, not with panic, but with the brutal weight of truth.

I did this.

I let my fear, and the shame of being born wrong , dictate my life. I let the sneers and whispers and cruel, cold stares carve their beliefs into my bones until I started to believe them myself.

I gave away pieces of myself to please people who would never love me whole.

And even now, after years of pretending I’ve moved on, I’m still that broken little girl from Avalon. The one who felt like she never belonged. The one who was always too much fae for the wolves and too wolf for the fae.

And now it’s cost me something I might never get back.

I press my hand to my chest, palm flat over skin that should be burning, bonding, feeling something.

But there’s only hollowness. No flickers or sparks or warmth.

Just the same as I’ve carried for far too long.

“Gods,” I whisper, voice catching. “What have I done?”

A flicker of movement in the window’s reflection pulls me upright.

I spin around, heart in my throat, but it’s not who I expect.

Vaelora.

Of course it’s her.

Her gown is floor length and cut from midnight velvet with a neckline that plunges just enough to make a statement—one that says power, not invitation. Her dark curls are swept back, revealing the delicate points of her ears and the soft glint of silver dust shimmered across her collarbones.

She doesn’t speak at first. Just watches me with that unreadable, predatory calm. Arms crossed and chin slightly tilted, as if she’s been standing there this whole time.

Watching.

Listening.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she finally purrs, her voice rich and smooth. “But you were practically broadcasting your existential crisis through the walls.”

I straighten, fists clenched and throat tight as I shove everything I feel deeper, where she can’t reach it. “If you’re here to gloat, don’t waste your breath.”

One elegant brow lifts, and her smile curves—not kind, not cruel, but amused. “Please. I only gloat when I win. And that isn’t now. Soon, but not yet.”

She walks forward, each step measured and silent despite the heels. The energy shifts with her, like even the walls themselves are curious what she’ll say next.

“Then, what are you doing here?” I stay against the window, hoping to keep as much distance between us as I can.

“Well, that’s a complicated answer,” she begins casually.

“I came to Crossroads because the portal to Tartarus opened. You don’t ignore that kind of power.

But I stayed,” her silver eyes sweep the corridor before returning to me, “because of the potential. This place hums with it and not just this house.” She smiles almost wistfully.

“And you, of course. You’re a mystery I couldn’t ignore. ”

I scoff. “Flattery won’t work with me.”

“I’m not here to do any such thing,” she says, tone sharpening.

“I’m only here to do my job and to tell you a truth.

One that will open your eyes to the real gift you’ll find tonight.

And because of my role in all this, I feel as though I need to offer some context first.” She raises a brow.

“Especially considering your disdain for me, even though I’ve done nothing other than try to be your friend. ”

Well, that cuts more than I expect. Mostly because she’s right.

I’m grown enough to admit that I’ve allowed my own issues to let me see Vaelora as the enemy.

She was, and still is, a reminder of a life I thought I could force myself to forget, and her eagerness was only ever taken as a threat to my subconscious.

Something I guess I could try a little harder to not do. Maybe .

She takes another step, her gaze piercing. “I know your secret.”

Or maybe I was right before.

Every part of me goes still. “What are you talking about?”

Her smile grows. “The one even you might not realize you hold.”

A tremor moves through me. I want to run but can’t even lift a finger.

She tilts her head, studying me with an unsettling calm. “When you bound your wolf, you didn’t just silence her. You sacrificed her soul.”

The words sink into me like ice.

“You were young,” she continues, voice butter-soft but heavy with certainty. “Desperate and afraid. None of that was your fault. Our people…” Her mouth twists faintly. “They can be merciless. And you didn’t deserve what happened. Especially not from your own mother.”

My breath stutters in my chest. I’m still stuck on her previous words. I want to ask what she means by sacrificed , but the thought won’t vocalize. It’s stuck like thorns in my throat. Thankfully—or maybe not—Vaelora continues.

“When you went to that witch for help,” she says smoothly, “you thought you were sealing the beast away. A clean cut. No harm done. But magic like that doesn’t work on good intentions.

” She steps fully into the light now, and her silver eyes gleam like storm-lit mirrors.

“It runs on payment. She took a piece of you. I know because she took one from me, too. Different spell. Same debt. ”

Something inside me twists. I can’t tell if she’s warning me or testing me.

Either way, I’m done.

I push away from the window in one sudden movement, my mind already halfway to the front door. “Well, it’s a good thing I already paid that price. And guess what? I’ve survived just fine since then.”

Vaelora doesn’t flinch. But her eyes cool.

“Is that all you want for yourself, Kamishola?” she asks, voice deceptively soft. “To survive ?”

My name on her tongue makes me cringe.

Her lips press into something between disappointment and pity. “I thought you were different,” she murmurs. “But maybe I was wrong.”

She doesn’t try to stop me nor does she chase. That alone makes my steps falter.

I turn back toward her, reluctant and defensive. Still clinging to the instinct to run.

“What aren’t you saying?” I ask, warily.