Elara's Point of View
I woke up screaming, and my heart was beating so hard that I thought it would burst through my chest. My sheets were twisted and wet with sweat. The nightmare stuck with me like a shadow I couldn't get rid of.
A soft, low voice came through the dark. "Elara, shh. It's fine."
I opened my eyes wide. Silas was there, kneeling next to me and brushing my wet hair out of my face with one hand. His presence felt so real that it was impossible. My chest hurt, and for a moment, I forgot to breathe.
"I—I dreamed..." I whispered, my voice shaking.
"I know," he said softly as he leaned in. His warmth made my skin tingle and my heart race. "You are safe." I'm here.
"You... you shouldn't be," I said quietly, even though part of me wanted him to come closer, to bury myself against him, and to feel that warmth against my cold skin.
He didn't pull away. Instead, he sat down next to me, closer than I thought he could. We touched our knees. My fingers moved. His breath was warm on my neck. I shivered.
He said in a low voice, almost begging, "I can't leave you like this." "Not when you're like this."
I whispered, "You're dangerous." "You're not like anyone else." I shouldn't want this—want you.
His hand brushed my arm. Was that innocent? Maybe. But the touch made me feel like I was on fire.
"You want it anyway," he whispered, looking straight into my eyes. "I can see it." You want it, even though you know it's wrong.
My heart raced. "I can't help it," I said. My voice shook. "I want you."
He stopped moving, his hand hovering just above mine. "Elara..."
"I don't care," I said as I moved closer, daring him. "I don't care if it's risky. I want you.
Finally, his hand rested on my cheek. Warm. Gentle. I couldn't breathe. Being so close was too much. My chest got tight, and every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said, his voice almost breaking.
I whispered, "You're not hurting me." "I'm... I am here. I picked this.
Silas slowly leaned in, getting dangerously close. My lips opened, and my heart raced. I could feel his breath on my face. Closer. Closer.
Then he pulled back and shook his head. "I can't. You don't get it...
"Yes, I do!" I said, holding his arm. "I understand the situation well enough. I'm not scared!"
Something I couldn't put a name to—fear, desire, pain—made his eyes darken. He put his forehead against mine. "Elara... I can't tell you everything. Not yet. You wouldn't be able to handle knowing some things.
I told them, "I can get through anything." "Tell me."
He shook his head. "No." I'm trying to keep you safe.
"I don't need protection," I said angrily, my frustration and desire twisting inside me. "Please, I want you! I don't care how dangerous it is!
Silas's expression softened for a brief moment. Then he stepped back again, unsure of what to do. "You don't get it..." "Some things can't be undone."
I pressed my lips together because I was frustrated and needed to. "Then allow me to attempt it." Let me handle it with you.
He looked at me like I had just given him the world and nothing at the same time. And then he was gone.
The room felt empty. My hand hurt where I had just touched him. My chest felt empty and sore.
I fell back on the bed, shaking, heart racing, wanting, and hurting. The house was quiet, but my head was loud. I needed to know who he was. What he was. Why did he scared me and draw me in at the same time?
The morning was slow, gray, and heavy. I walked around the house in a daze, my heart still racing from the night before. I couldn't stop thinking about him—the way he looked, the way he almost kissed me, and the way he disappeared just when I needed him.
I walked into the study on the first floor, hoping—maybe foolishly—that I could find a clue or a sign of him.
Then I saw it.
A yellowed newspaper clipping stuck between the pages of an old book. My hands shook as I took it out. I gasped at the headline:
"Local Man Dies in Strange Accident Near Nightfall House."
I couldn't believe what I saw in the picture.
The man in the picture had the same height, hair color, skin tone, and sharp features as him. Silas.
My hands were shaking. My chest got tight. I couldn't speak.
I almost didn't want to say it out loud: "It can't... It can't be you.
There was no noise in the house. Not enough noise. Then I heard it: a faint creak, like someone walking on the floor above.
I turned around with my heart racing. The shadows looked thicker and closer, like they were waiting.
And I knew the moment was just the beginning.
Elara finds a newspaper article about a man who died years ago. He looks just like Silas, and at the same time, she hears footsteps upstairs. The mystery surrounding Silas grows, the danger grows, and the forbidden tension only gets worse.