Elowen POV
The worst part is that my body remembers him better than my mind does.
I sit on the cold stone floor, back against the wall, knees drawn up—not because I'm afraid, but because it feels like if I spread out, if I relax even a little, something inside me will unravel.
Heat pulses low in my belly.
Not fire.
Not magic.
Something slower. Heavier. A deep, aching awareness that makes my thighs press together without permission.
I bite down on my lip, hard.
"Stop," I whisper to myself.
The bond stirs.
Not gently.
Not comfortingly.
It tightens—like a hand closing around my ribs from the inside.
My breath stutters.
I shouldn't feel him like this. Not after everything. Not after the doubts they fed me, not after I told myself I was safer without him.
And yet—
My body arches subtly as a wave of sensation rolls through me, sharp enough to make my toes curl.
It feels like being watched.
Not with eyes.
With intent.
I squeeze my eyes shut, shame flooding me.
"You're not here," I whisper. "You don't get to—"
The bond pulses once.
Hard.
My breath breaks.
It doesn't feel like reassurance.
It feels like acknowledgment.
Like he heard me—and disagreed.
Kael POV
She's fighting it.
I feel the resistance ripple through the bond—tense, frantic, desperate. Her body pulls toward me while her mind claws in the opposite direction, and the friction makes the connection burn.
Good.
That means it's still alive.
I stand motionless in the dark corridor of a half-ruined keep, hands clasped behind my back as my shadows writhe impatiently at my feet.
She thinks doubt will loosen what binds us.
She thinks distance will teach her freedom.
Her body knows better.
The bond hums with awareness—every shiver, every clench of muscle, every sharp inhale she tries to hide from herself.
She is not touching herself.
She doesn't need to.
Her body is responding to me.
A low sound vibrates in my chest—not quite a growl, not quite a laugh.
"They've made you afraid of wanting me," I murmur softly.
My shadows still.
"That doesn't unmake the wanting."
Elowen POV
My hands tremble as I press them flat against the stone, grounding myself in the cold.
It doesn't help.
The sensation builds anyway—slow, relentless—heat sliding under my skin, awareness sharpening until every breath feels too loud, every shift of my hips feels exposed.
I feel seen.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
"Don't," I whisper, though I don't know who I'm pleading with anymore. "Don't look at me like this."
My thighs tighten instinctively.
A sob slips out, half frustration, half something far more dangerous.
"If you're really like they say," I breathe, "if I'm just something you own—then why does this feel like I'm the one begging?"
The bond flares.
Not violently.
Decisively.
And suddenly, I know.
He's close.
Not here.
But close enough that my body reacts as if he's already stepped into the room.
Kael POV
There it is.
The question beneath the fear.
Am I her captor…
or her anchor?
I roll my shoulders once, slow and deliberate, as if easing into a decision already made.
"You're begging because you were never prey," I murmur into the bond. "You're begging because your body recognizes what your mind is trying to deny."
My shadows stretch outward, searching.
Soon.
But not yet.
If I take her now, she'll think it's force.
I want her to understand something far worse.
That even when I am not touching her—
She is already responding.
And when I finally stand in front of her again?
She won't know whether to run…
Or sink into my arms and admit she never wanted to escape at all.