Flames licked the edges of her vision.
Celeste stood barefoot in a field of ash, the sky above her a roiling sea of black and crimson. Whispers curled around her like smoke, their voices familiar and foreign, gentle and cruel. She turned in slow motion, heart thudding in her chest. There, across the field, he stood.
Lucien.
He looked the same as the night before , tall, elegant, dressed in a suit that looked made for sin itself. But his eyes... his eyes glowed, molten gold and ancient fire, watching her like he had already owned every part of her. He raised his hand and pointed to her wrist. She looked down.
The mark was there.
An intricate sigil shimmered on her skin, pulsing like a heartbeat. And then, the ground split beneath her feet.
She fell.
And woke up with a scream.
Celeste bolted upright in bed, soaked in sweat. Her sheets tangled around her legs like chains. Her wrist burned. She snatched it up and gasped.
The mark wasn't just in her dream.
It was real.
Glowing faintly, inked in fire beneath her skin, it pulsed like it was alive. She stumbled out of bed, breathing hard, disoriented, scared.
"What the hell…"
Her thoughts were a blur. She rushed to the bathroom, turned on the light, and stared at her reflection. The woman in the mirror looked pale, haunted. And yet… different. Her eyes, once a warm brown, now shimmered faintly in the light, flecks of gold she swore hadn't been there before.
She covered the mark with her sleeve and tried to calm down. It had to be a trick. A delayed reaction from yesterday's chaos. Stress-induced hallucination. Something. Anything.
Except it wasn't.
Because when she stepped outside her apartment that morning, Lucien Valemont was waiting for her.
Leaning against a sleek black car, sunglasses hiding his eyes, suit perfectly tailored, the devil in every inch of his presence. The city buzzed around them, but people gave him space, as if instinct warned them to stay away.
"Good morning, Celeste," he said smoothly.
Her breath caught.
"How do you know where I live?"
His lips twitched. "I own the building."
Of course he did.
"You marked me," she hissed, pulling back her sleeve just enough to show the glowing symbol. "What the hell is this?"
Lucien's gaze flicked to her wrist, then back to her face. "That is the seal of the soulbound. It signifies our contract."
"Contract? I thought that was just… symbolic. A desperate deal. Not some magic tattoo that brands me like livestock."
"You agreed. It is binding. Your brother's life is tethered to it. To me."
She bristled. "You tricked me."
"I offered you a choice. You made it."
He walked closer, the space between them crackling with something electric, dangerous. His scent hit her again, cedarwood, dark spice, something ancient. Her heart betrayed her by pounding faster.
"You should keep that wrist covered," he murmured. "Others will see it. Some will recognize it."
"Others like who?" she snapped.
But he didn't answer. Instead, he opened the car door.
"Get in."
She narrowed her eyes. "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe. You're bound now, Celeste. That comes with… consequences."
She hesitated. Every part of her screamed that getting into the car with him was a mistake. And yet, her feet moved. She got in.
The city blurred past as they drove. He didn't speak. Just watched her from the corner of his eye. She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way her body reacted to his presence,the heat in her veins, the thrum beneath her skin, the echo of him in her dreams.
"What are you?" she finally asked.
He didn't answer at first. The silence was suffocating.
Then he said, "I'm the next in line to a kingdom you can't imagine. And you, Celeste… you're no ordinary human. That's why the contract chose you."
Her stomach twisted. "What does that even mean?"
Lucien turned his head, those eyes burning straight into her soul.
"It means you're mine."
The words struck something deep in her, frightening and intoxicating all at once. Her throat went dry. She looked away, willing her heart to stop racing.
They arrived at a penthouse that overlooked the entire city. She stepped inside, stunned by the luxury. Black marble floors, gold accents, walls of glass that let in the blood-orange hues of the setting sun.
He handed her a drink without asking.
"You'll stay here until we figure things out."
She frowned. "Figure what out?"
"There are others who'll come for you. Once the mark appears, you're no longer invisible."
"To who?"
He moved closer.
"To the ones who want to break the contract. To the ones who know what you really are."
She laughed, nervous. "I'm just a girl. A med student."
He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "No, Celeste. You're not just anything."
The air shifted.
Suddenly, they were too close. His hand was still on her face, thumb brushing her cheek like he had every right to touch her. Her breath caught again. Her skin tingled.
His voice dropped lower.
"You feel it, don't you? The pull between us. The mark doesn't just tie your soul to the contract. It ties it to mine."
She was trembling now, heat spreading from her chest to her belly.
"It's just adrenaline," she whispered.
"No," he said. "It's the beginning."
His head dipped. For a second, their lips hovered. Barely an inch. Her eyes fluttered shut. The moment stretched, charged, inevitable.
Then he stopped.
His lips brushed the corner of her mouth, almost a kiss, cruel in its hesitation.
He pulled back.
"You're not ready," he said, voice like gravel.
She stared at him, dazed, breathless.
A door slammed somewhere in the distance. The moment broke.
Lucien turned from her, jaw tight, eyes dark.
"I'll explain more tomorrow. Get some rest."
He vanished down the hallway.
Celeste stood there alone, her fingers brushing her lips, the echo of his almost-kiss burning hotter than flame.
And for the first time since the contract, she wasn't thinking about her brother.
She was thinking about him.