First Contact
The rain hit the roof of the car like nails that wouldn't stop. Selene sat still in the passenger seat, and the lights of the city made broken reflections on her face.
She wiped her fingers on her trousers, pretending that the cut she had was just broken glass.
Dorian's hands were steady on the steering wheel. His jaw was tense, he looked at her in the rearview mirror often, and Selene turned her head away.
No pity, no thanks, but deep down, there was something else: a flicker of desire, maybe fear; she couldn't tell anymore.
Selene said in a low, clipped voice, "I need to know."
"How deep does this go?" The smell, the pictures, Eliora. What part do you play in all of this?
Dorian let out a breath; she could smell his cologne, which smelled like leather and had a hint of smoke. Safeguarding, dominant, it made her heart beat in a way that she both hated and wanted.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he pulled off the road and stopped under a yellow streetlight; rain fell off the side mirrors. The light glimmered in his eyes, which were lined with something tired.
"You pulled me into your world, Selene." And I never asked for help. She looked at him, her throat shut.
"Saved?" I…"Don't interrupt," he said, and she hit his hand when it brushed hers as he moved the mirror.
She pulled away a little because she was annoyed and surprised that his touch felt like both permission and a threat.
"Do you think I want this?" She shot back.
"To be in your sights?"
"To be the girl who ruined the Vale legacy?" He looked at her, and the rain behind him looked like tears that hadn't fallen yet. He said softly,
"Legacy is a burden."
"And I got mine from a brother I couldn't save." The words made her chest feel tight. She swallowed. This man, who had made her worst fears come true, was also bleeding because of him.
Weak, but only for a little while.
Selene's eyes softened, but not with trust; they were full of pain.
"I didn't kill him, Dorian." That wasn't in my power. I only had silence, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, close enough for her to see the faint scar above his brow. He spoke in a whisper. "Silence is also a choice.
And not talking to me hurt me; hurt him." She turned away, and her shoulder brushed against his.
She could feel how tense he was magnetic and dangerous. She closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of cedar, rain, and cold steel. In ways that she hated and needed, it was holding her down.
The car was full of silence. She felt small and exposed but also somehow alive when he put his hand on hers on the seat. It was a simple gesture, but in the context of everything else, it was both a promise and an accusation.
She looked down at their fingers, which were linked. He held on tightly, as if she were glass and he was afraid to break her or leave her.
He said softly, "You don't have to do this by yourself." Selene pulled her hand away, even though her heart was racing.
"Always do." Always have, he kept his eyes on hers, steady.
"Stop pushing people away all the time and let someone in." She wanted to hate him. She wanted to fight. Instead, she swallowed hard and nodded.
They drove again, past shops that were closed, neon signs that were flickering, and reflections that were dancing on wet asphalt.
The city looked hurt, just like she did. The air inside the car was electric; she kept telling herself that she would regret being this close to him, but her skin gave her away. It was sensitive to how close he was, how the engine vibrated, and how his collar brushed against her arm.
Dorian put his hands on the wheel. "You said Eliora's not available." His voice was steady, but there was a tremor underneath that he couldn't control.
Selene's throat got tighter. "Yes." "Where?" Her jaw was tight. "I don't know," she said. "She's..." and then stopped.
"She's in trouble." He looked at her; his face was in the dark. The power dynamic changed: she, who was usually the one who had to deal with things, was now the one who had pieces of truth. He had the means but not the answers.
The car came to a stop in front of her studio; the flames had been put out, the walls had been fixed, but the scar was still there. A burnt skeleton of what used to be her pride.
Dorian stopped the car. The engine was running, but it felt heavy.
"Why didn't you call me earlier?" He asked as he stepped outside into the rain and pulled his coat tight. His hair and sleeves were covered in shiny water droplets.
Selene followed her and stepped off the curb, her shoes made a splash in the water. The rain was cold and slick as it ran down her neck. She saw everything in him: anger, desire, and regret. She felt like she was open.
"Because I thought I could do it on my own," she said softly. "That asking for help would make me weak." He closed the gap between them in two steps. He put his hand on her cheek.
He stopped, and he used his thumb to wipe away a small stream of rain on her skin.
"Still standing and asking for help," he said. "Standing is more than a lot of people can do." She opened her mouth.
She felt something change even in the rain and the wreckage of her studio. She said,
"You're not like the others," her voice shaking. He turned her head so that their breaths mixed: rain and his scent.
"Also, you're not who I thought you were." Her heart raced, and at that moment, the world echoed: tension, admission, power, and vulnerability mixed like wet perfume in the air.
He closed the gap between them, his lips brushing hers. Not fully, not demanding, but enough. Tender and hot. She leaned into it. She put her hands on his chest and felt his heart beat.
A warning and a source of comfort. She tasted metal, rain, and sadness. Something broke inside of her. They broke up; she wanted to talk and ask for more, but he put a finger up, and they were quiet.
The night was quiet. The rain had stopped. His eyes looked into hers as if they were asking for forgiveness, the truth, and understanding. She held his gaze and fought back tears that she had not let herself cry before.
Then he stepped back and reached into his coat. Took out a small glass vial that was sealed and opaque but looked familiar. Selene gasped, but he put his finger over her mouth to stop her.
"Don't." He raised her chin. "You want to be in charge?" Here he gave her the vial, her mix of formulas.
She hadn't told him about it or tested it, so it was safely locked away. When she took it, her fingers shook. It was cold outside. The smell of her own invention, which was soft but strong, came from inside.
"Why?" she asked, her voice breaking. The light from the streetlamp made his eyes shine.
"I want you to get your power back." Even if it makes you scared. Her tears made it hard to see. She swallowed.
"I don't know if I can believe you." He moved closer, being careful like he was walking on glass.
"Then give me a test." His breath was close to her ear. "Look at what I do, not what I say." Her skin felt like it was going to break. She looked at the vial, then at him, then at the burnt outline of the atelier.
Changing power dynamics: she is unbeatable in her field, and he is unbeatable in his resources. She has scent, and he has leverage, but neither has full control right now.
There was a wordless thrum in the air. It wasn't thunder; it was something deeper, metallic, and urgent. There was a siren in the distance or maybe a humming sound under the street. Selene's phone rang loudly in her pocket. She took out a new message, but no sender.
I know where she is. She is still alive. But you have until midnight. After that, she doesn't matter anymore. Her hand stopped moving. The words were very clear, and the threat was clear.
Dorian looked at the screen. His eyes got darker. "Midnight?" he said in a hollow voice. Selene's heart was beating so loudly that she thought he could hear it. She swallowed.
"Yes." He looked into her eyes, which were full of anger and rage.
"Then we go quickly. All of us. Her chest hurt. Fear, anger, closeness, and something like hope.
Selene looked up at him. The rain stuck his coat to his shoulders. Half of his face was in the dark, and half of it was in the light. She saw him, the man who hurt her and the man who might be the only one who could save her.
They were closer than they'd ever been: their souls were bare, their power was on the line, and their trust was shaky. She stood up straight, holding the vial against her chest.
"Promise me," she said in a soft voice.
He swallowed hard. "I promise."
She let out a breath, feeling both relief and fear.
She watched him start the car, ready to drive into danger with a man she didn't fully trust, holding the smell that could save her or kill her.
When the headlights turned on, they lit up the burnt front of her studio and the shadow of someone watching them from across the street.
The figure moved forward, not running, not hiding.
Just standing still under a streetlamp, with their face hidden.
Selene saw the figure lift something when the car door clicked shut.A camera clicking.