I could not sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her—Selene's pale beauty, her cruel smile, her fangs glinting as she claimed him hers. I heard her voice echoing through my skull: He toys with mortals. He feeds on their adoration. He leaves them hollow shells.
But beneath those words lay another image, sharper, more devastating—Dorian's eyes as he swore I was not nothing. That I was light in his endless dark.
And I hated that I believed him more than I believed her.
I hated that I longed for him still.
The night pulled me from my bed like a tide. I left the cottage barefoot, my cloak tight around my shoulders, heart hammering as though to remind me I was still flesh, still mortal, still prey. I told myself I only wished for answers. Yet deep down I knew the truth—I was chasing the burn of his kiss, the dangerous sweetness of his arms.
The ruins loomed, black against the stars. I slipped inside the hollow tower, breath shallow. He was there, waiting, as though he had known I would come.
"Liora." His voice was low, roughened by something darker than weariness.
I froze in the doorway. "You knew I would return."
He stepped from the shadows. The moonlight carved his face into something both terrible and beautiful. His eyes burned, fixed on me like a predator's gaze on trembling prey.
"I feel you when you are near," he said, closing the space between us slowly, deliberately, as though giving me a chance to run. "Your heartbeat calls to me louder than any prayer, any bell, any storm."
I swallowed, though my throat was dry. "And what will you do, now that I am here?"
His jaw tightened. He reached up as though to touch my face, then stopped, his hand trembling in the air. "What I should not. What I have denied myself longer than you can imagine."
My heart leapt. My body swayed closer before I could stop it. "Then stop denying yourself."
His eyes flared. And suddenly, he was against me, his hands capturing my waist, his mouth descending to mine.
The kiss was no longer cautious. It was hunger unleashed. His lips crushed mine, cold and fevered, his tongue sweeping into me as though he would devour me whole. I gasped against him, clutching his shoulders, feeling the iron-hard strength coiled beneath his stillness.
His hand slid to the back of my neck, holding me as if I were both precious and claimed. His other roamed my side, down to my hip, pulling me against the rigid lines of his body. I felt the tremor in him, the storm he fought with every breath, and it only made me cling tighter.
When he tore his lips from mine, it was only to trail kisses along my jaw, down my throat. His breath seared across my pulse, his lips brushing the thrum of life beneath my skin. I tilted back, surrendering, my body betraying my mind's desperate whispers of danger.
"Dorian," I gasped, my voice broken between fear and desire.
He groaned, low and guttural, his fangs grazing the tender hollow where my neck curved into my shoulder. A shiver wracked me—half terror, half ecstasy.
"Do you know what you are asking?" His words were muffled against my skin. "One taste, Liora, and I will crave you beyond reason. You will never leave these ruins unscarred."
"Then let me scar," I whispered. "Better your mark than her shadow."
His grip on me faltered, tightening as though he warred with himself. For one agonizing moment, I felt the sharp points press more firmly, hovering on the precipice between kiss and bite.
And then, with a snarl of fury, he ripped himself away.
I stumbled, nearly falling, my body shuddering with loss. He stood a few paces off, chest heaving, fists clenched, eyes blazing black fire.
"Do not tempt me," he growled, voice raw with anguish. "I am no savior, Liora. I am ruin. Selene is right in this, if in nothing else—mortals who love me do not survive me."
Tears stung my eyes, though anger flared with them. "Then why do you keep me near? Why let me burn when you will not let me break?"
His expression cracked, pain seeping through the fury. "Because I cannot let you go."
The words undid me. I moved to him, pressing my hands against his chest, feeling the frantic stillness of his unbeating heart. His hands rose to my arms, trembling as though torn between pushing me away and pulling me closer.
I tipped my face up to his. "Then stop trying."
He bent again, kissing me with a tenderness that almost hurt, a desperation edged with restraint. This time there was no grazing of fangs, no brush of danger—only the ache of two souls colliding, forbidden and unrelenting.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breath unsteady.
"You do not understand what you do to me," he whispered. "Every moment I resist is agony. Every moment I indulge is a step closer to your death. And yet… I cannot stop."
Neither could I.
I closed my eyes, savoring the weight of his hands, the coolness of his skin, the dangerous sweetness of his nearness. Even if it destroyed me, I knew I would return to him again and again.
Because in his arms, I was no longer just a mortal girl. I was flame to his shadow, hunger to his restraint, love to his curse.
And I could not let him go either.