The day was ordinary.
Classes passed, laughter filled the halls, and Adrian teased her as though nothing in the world could shift between them. They lingered by the library steps after school, their shoulders brushing in a silence that was almost comfortable.
Almost.
Because Selene could not shake it. The weight in the air. The way shadows seemed to curl too long behind Adrian's figure. The way whispers threaded through her ears like smoke when no one else noticed.
Mine.
The voice crawled up her spine, and she stiffened.
"Selene?" Adrian leaned down to peer at her. His eyes—warm, human—searched her face. "You okay?"
"Yes." She forced the word out quickly, too quickly. "Just tired."
Adrian frowned, unconvinced. But then he softened, his grin sliding back into place. "Then I'll walk you home again. Maybe even carry your bag if you beg nicely."
She tried to laugh, tried to anchor herself in his presence. But as they walked, she noticed it—their shadows on the ground.
Two. Hers and Adrian's.
And then… a third.
Towering, horned, unmistakable.
Her breath caught. She stumbled.
"Selene?" Adrian caught her arm. "Seriously, what's wrong with you lately? You've been… different."
She opened her mouth, but the third shadow dissolved, melting back into nothing. The street was empty but for them.
"I'm fine," she lied, clutching his hand tighter than she meant to.
That night, her room felt colder than before. The curtains swayed though the window was shut. She lit the small lamp by her bed, but the light only made the corners darker.
"Show yourself," she whispered. Her voice trembled, but there was steel beneath it.
The shadows stirred. They rippled up the wall, twisting until they coalesced into the broad shape she knew too well.
Crimson eyes opened in the dark.
"Did you miss me, little bride?" Veythar's voice slid into the room, low and velvet. His form was not fully there—more mist than flesh—but the power in it made the air tremble.
Selene pressed back against the headboard, clutching the blanket like a shield. "You promised—"
"I promised you time," he interrupted smoothly. "Not absence. Did you truly think love could bloom while I stood aside? That you could bind yourself to another when your soul already bears my mark?"
Her throat tightened. "He's mine now."
Veythar laughed. It was soft, rich, terrifying. "No, Selene. He is yours for now. But you…" His eyes flared, burning through the dark. "You were mine the moment you said 'I do.' And whether you run, or dream, or beg for freedom… you will return to me. Willingly or not."
The lamp flickered violently, then extinguished.
When the room fell to black, his presence pressed closer—warm, suffocating, a caress against her skin though he hadn't touched her.
Selene squeezed her eyes shut. "I won't. I won't."
But deep down, buried where she dared not look, a shiver ran through her that was not entirely fear.
The dark pressed heavier, the air almost liquid. Selene could hear her own heartbeat, frantic and loud, as though it were trying to escape her chest.
Then—he was there.
Not mist. Not shadow. But flesh and form, crouched at the edge of her bed. Veythar's presence filled the small room, overwhelming, suffocating. His eyes glowed with unholy light, and his mouth curved into a smile that was both cruel and unbearably intimate.
"You speak of defiance," he murmured, his clawed fingers brushing the blanket she gripped. The touch was feather-light, yet it seared as if it branded her. "But your trembling betrays you."
Selene tried to shove back, though there was nowhere to go. "Stay away."
Veythar leaned in, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath, sharp as embers, sweep across her cheek. His lips hovered a breath away from hers.
"Is this what he gives you?" he whispered. "A flutter, a shallow warmth? Or do you crave something more… something that devours?"
Her body betrayed her—her pulse surged, heat flushing her skin even as her mind screamed no. She pushed at his chest, struggling, her nails digging into the fine fabric of his dark coat.
Veythar chuckled low, the sound vibrating against her bones. "Good. Fight me."
His mouth lowered further, until his lips brushed hers—barely, a whisper of contact. The world seemed to stop, her breath caught between refusal and surrender.
And then—he drew back.
Selene gasped, blinking in shock as the pressure lifted. His crimson gaze lingered on her face, sharp with hunger, yet edged with something she could not name.
"You're not ready," he said softly, almost amused. His hand lifted, claw tracing the line of her jaw before retreating. "Not yet. But you will be. I can taste it in your struggle. Desire and defiance… both burn so sweetly in you."
He stood, the shadows coiling around his body once more. "Cling to your boy. Pretend his touch is enough. Each time you do, you will feel the hollowness more deeply. Until the day you come to me… not with fear, but with longing."
The last word coiled through the air like smoke.
And then he was gone.
Selene collapsed forward, trembling violently, her lips still tingling where his had almost claimed them. She pressed her shaking hands to her face, but it did nothing to erase the memory of his heat.
Tears stung her eyes. Not only from fear—but from the unbearable truth he had left her with.
That a part of her had not only resisted.
It had wanted.