Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Clara already had her plans drawn like a spider weaving its web. The night still clung to her, but her mind was sharp, burning with the image of Kael's face, his startled eyes, the way his lips trembled under her kiss. That kiss wasn't just a taste... it was a seal. A power she had laced into him without his knowing.
"Mine," she whispered into the empty room, her smirk slicing through the quiet like a blade. "You'll be mine, Kael. My toy. My obsession. My soul."
Her hands traced over the edge of her mirror, where a faint shimmer of light flickered—sigils only she could read. The mark she had noticed on Kael's wrist danced before her memory. A mark that meant power, raw and untouched. A mark that meant destiny.
And she would be the one to hold it.
But Kael, poor Kael, was far too blind to see the strings closing around him.
He sat in class that very morning, a small smirk tugging at his lips. His body still buzzed from Aimee's shy hug, his mind looping her soft warmth over and over again. For once, he felt bold—no, confident.
Damn… so that's what it feels like. Aimee hugging me. Damn Kael, you're finally on the road.
He gave her a sidelong glance, his lips curling into that sly grin he'd been practicing, a grin he swore he had picked up from his time with Clara. The thought hit him hard, sharp as lightning: If I could just make Aimee laugh, the way Clara did… if I could bring her close with the same charm… then I've won. Finally, I've won her.
The classroom faded away, the buzzing of students, even Mia's quiet smirk across the room—it all blurred into background. All he could see was Aimee's shy eyes, all he could plan for was the moment he'd turn her blush into laughter, her giggles into warmth, and warmth into something deeper.
Kael clenched his fist under the desk, his wrist still faintly aching where the strange glow had burned through the night. But he ignored it. He had bigger things on his mind.
This wasn't just a game anymore it was the beginning of Kael's gamble with fate.
And far away, Clara laughed under her breath, already knowing he was walking straight into her hands.
The last bell rang and the chatter of students filled the hallway like a flood. Kael slipped out with his boys, trying hard to hide the smile plastered on his face.
"Brooo," Jacob dragged the word, nudging him with his elbow. "I just saw that. Don't even lie you and Aimee, right there, in the open… you hugged her. You hugged her."
The other snickered, clapping Kael's shoulder. "Man, the way she leaned on you? Soft as cream. Don't tell me you're still playing dumb."
Kael laughed, scratching the back of his head, trying not to blush like a fool. "Shut up, you both. It was nothing."
"Nothing?" Jacob shot him a look. "Bro, if that's 'nothing' then I want a whole lifetime of 'nothing.'" They burst out laughing, teasing him all the way down the street.
But when Kael finally broke away and reached home, the weight of the day pressed down on him. He threw himself on his bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the moment over and over again, the warmth of Aimee's body, her shy voice, the way his chest had pounded like it was about to explode.
For once, he felt alive. For once, he felt like maybe he wasn't cursed, like maybe he could live a normal life after all.
Just then, his phone buzzed.
He groaned, rolling over to grab it. The name on the screen froze him.
Clara.
Kael, how about you come to my place now?
He blinked, staring at the message. His chest tightened. A thousand thoughts crashed through his mind at once. At first, he stuttered inside himself—half-ready to type back an excuse, half-tempted to ignore it altogether. But then… her face flashed in his mind. Her smirk. Her voice. Her confidence.
And then the truth hit him.
If it wasn't for Clara… I wouldn't have hugged Aimee back today. I wouldn't have had the damn guts. That smirk she gave me, that laugh… I learned it from Clara.
Kael sat up, heart racing. He ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip. Slowly, his fingers tapped out a reply.
Okay.
The bubbles appeared almost instantly, as if she had been waiting for him.
Good. I've got a present for you, Kael. Something special. So hurry, come in.
Kael stared at the text, his chest tightening again. Excitement. Curiosity. Lust. Fear. They all blended into one dizzy haze.
"A present?" he muttered under his breath, shoving his phone into his pocket. "Damn, Clara… what are you planning now?"
And without knowing, Kael was already walking deeper into the trap she had so carefully laid.
....
Later that day, Kael found himself standing before Clara's door, pulse thudding against his ribs. His chest still held the warmth of Aimee's hug, but it was drowned beneath the rush of another feeling entirely. the thrill of Clara's text. A present. A gift. Something that made him feel wanted.
He swallowed, brushing a hand over his wrist where the faint glow of his sigil had burned the night before. It pulsed faintly under his skin, hidden by the cuff of his sleeve. He thought nothing of it, only an echo of the strange healing. To him, it was nothing more than a curiosity. He didn't know it was warning him, screaming silently that he was about to cross the line into her territory.
The door opened before he could even knock.
And there she was. Clara.
Her eyes dark, laced with secrets dragged across him like velvet blades. Her smirk curved slow and deliberate, venom disguised as sweetness. She leaned on the frame, her hair falling over one shoulder, lips parted just enough to make his throat dry.
"Well," she whispered, gaze pinning him in place, "look who decided to come. My Kael."
The way she said it—my—struck through him, leaving him both flustered and thrilled.
"I—uh…" he stammered, shifting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, forcing a smile. "You said you had… a present?"
Her smirk deepened.
"Mm. Always so straightforward," she teased, stepping aside with a languid sway of her hips. "Come in, Kael. Don't be shy. You've already been here once."
He stepped in, the air immediately wrapping around him—her scent, warm and intoxicating, filling the room like a spell. The door clicked behind him, softer than a whisper, but it sounded final, as though the world outside no longer existed.
Clara circled him slowly, brushing her shoulder against his arm as she passed, so close he could feel the heat of her skin. "You look excited," she said, tilting her head with mock innocence. "Or maybe… nervous again?"
Kael let out a weak laugh, trying to sound bold. "Maybe both."
"I like it when you're nervous," she whispered near his ear, her voice low and velvet-smooth. "You look… cute. Like you're trying so hard not to lose control."
His pulse jumped. He shifted, scratching his neck, forcing a laugh, but the way her breath brushed against him nearly unraveled him.
Then she moved, deliberately slow, sitting back against her couch with the grace of a predator at rest. Her skirt slid just enough to reveal the smooth line of her thighs. Her fingers tapped lazily against the armrest, her eyes never leaving him.
"So, Kael…" Her voice coiled with playfulness, but underneath, something darker lingered. "What do you think this present might be?"
Kael blinked, caught off guard. His heart raced. "I… I don't know. Food? Maybe a drink?" He laughed nervously, trying to play it safe.
Clara's smile sharpened, her eyes glinting like knives.
"Oh, Kael," she purred, leaning forward so her cleavage pressed against the curve of her blouse, "it's something much more… memorable."
His breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he forgot how to speak, forgot how to think, his mind blank except for the shape of her smirk, the way her body leaned into his space, and that voice.
And as her gaze pinned him there, the sigil beneath his wrist flared once—bright, searing but Kael never noticed.
...
She was no longer the Clara Kael thought he knew the first night.
This wasn't the teasing, playful host who poured him juice and disarmed him with jokes. No—tonight she was something else. A serpent in silk, her smile laced with a darkness that shimmered beneath the softness.
Kael sat on the edge of the couch, still pretending to be calm, still pretending he was in control. But Clara… Clara was a storm, and every motion of hers seemed crafted to tear his composure apart.
She leaned forward, her body angling so close that her blouse pressed against the swell of her breasts, the fabric tugging low as though drawn by his gaze itself. Her thighs shifted beneath the hem of her skirt, smooth, bare, and glowing faintly under the low lamp light. Every curve spoke, every line of her body whispered promises that his imagination could barely hold.
He swallowed hard, his throat tight, his palms clammy. This wasn't the same Clara. No, this Clara's eyes burned with something sharper—possession, hunger.
"You're quiet," she teased, her voice dripping like honey laced with poison. "What's wrong, Kael? Do I make you nervous again?"
Her hand brushed over his wrist as if by accident, right where the sigil faintly glowed beneath his skin. Kael stiffened, not from pain, but from the way her touch sank into him, subtle, commanding. His pulse betrayed him, leaping wildly beneath her fingers.
Clara smirked, her lips curving slow and knowing, as though she could read every thought flying through his mind. And maybe she could.
"Your eyes…" she whispered, leaning close enough for her breath to warm his cheek, "…they always give you away. Do you know that?"
Her scent wrapped around him, sweet and heavy, leaving him light-headed. Kael tried to laugh, tried to force words out, but all that came was a broken sound, half-breath, half-stutter.
Clara chuckled low, the sound rolling like velvet thunder. "Don't fight it, Kael. Just… let yourself drown a little. You'll find it's sweeter that way."
Then she shifted slow, deliberate. Her thigh brushed his knee. Her blouse slipped just an inch lower, the edge teasing the curve of her breasts as though the fabric itself was conspiring against him. Her eyes locked with his, dark, merciless, daring him to look away.
Kael's chest rose and fell too quickly, his hands clenched on his knees. He had never felt so small, so powerless, yet so alive.
And then Clara leaned even closer, lips hovering just at the edge of his. Her voice was a whisper, deadly and soft.
"You still don't understand, Kael… do you?"
Her smirk widened.
"You're already mine."
The words froze him, a shiver running through his body, his heart slamming against his ribs. He couldn't speak, couldn't move—caught between the fire of desire and the chill of something darker that curled around her every word.
The sigil on his wrist burned hot beneath his sleeve, a warning he still didn't see.
And Clara… she only tilted her head, her lips hovering a breath away, her body pressing so close he could feel every dangerous curve that promised both pleasure and ruin.
Kael swallowed hard. He didn't know if he was about to kiss her or be devoured.