His eyes were still on my mouth.
Like he forgot how to look anywhere else.
Like something in him had broken loose—and I could feel it trying to drag me down with him.
I should've stepped back.
I didn't.
Because I was just as bad. Just as cursed.
My fingers twitched where they touched his chest. He was too warm. Too steady. Too real.
"Darian," I whispered again.
This time, it wasn't a question.
It was a warning.
Or maybe a dare.
His gaze flicked up—eyes locked on mine now—and I saw it. That shift. That moment when every part of him leaned forward just slightly.
We were inches apart.
Inches.
And gods, I could feel it—the gravity, the inevitability, the way my whole body screamed yes even as my brain whispered don't.
And then—
"HEY!"
We both jerked back like lightning struck us.
I spun toward the voice, teeth already bared.
Sylas stood in the doorway, holding a bag of tortilla chips and looking vaguely offended.
"Didn't mean to interrupt your weird emotional soap opera," he said. "But the siren is humming again. It's creepy. Make her stop before I set the basement on fire."
I didn't move.
Couldn't breathe.
Darian exhaled hard, running a hand down his face.
Sylas blinked between us, chips halfway to his mouth. "Did I walk in on a murder plot or foreplay?"
"Shut up," I muttered.
We went back down to the basement.
The siren was still humming—soft, eerie, calm in the most unsettling way. She looked up as we entered, like she'd been expecting me. Like she knew I wouldn't leave her alone for long.
Good.
I didn't say anything right away.
Just stared.
Then: "I have a proposal."
The siren blinked.
I stepped closer. "I want to hire you."
She blinked again, and then—laughed.
A sharp, cold sound. "Hire me?" she echoed. "With what, exactly? You lost your kingdoms and your crown before you could even speak, little half-blood."
I didn't flinch.
She kept going, eyes gleaming. "Even if you were royalty once, Vyrethane's wealth isn't yours anymore, is it? You're nothing now. A ghost in dirty boots."
I didn't smile.
Not yet.
I just… took a step closer.
Her grin faltered, ever so slightly.
Another step.
Her smile started to fade.
Another.
I sharpened my hearing.
Her heart was pounding.
Fast. Desperate.
I smiled.
And the rest of her confidence cracked.
"I asked," I said softly, "do you want the money or not?"
The siren hesitated. Then, slowly, her voice dropped into something quieter. More cautious. "How would that even work?"
"You help us find the dagger," I said. "Once I have it, I'll pay you in Dobro. Clean. No tricks."
She narrowed her eyes. "Half up front."
I laughed.
Low. Dark. Beautiful in the way poison glistens before it kills.
Her expression shifted—just slightly. Like she wasn't sure if I was amused or about to rip her throat out.
"Fine," I said. "Half up front."
She blinked, surprised.
Then I stepped in again.
Closer.
Close enough to kiss her.
Close enough that she could feel the change in the air.
"But if you betray me," I whispered, voice like velvet wrapped around a blade, "I won't kill you."
Her pulse spiked—I could hear it.
I leaned in just a breath closer.
"Why would I kill you," I said, almost sweetly, "when I can do so much worse?"
Then I turned, hair swaying with the motion, and looked at Darian.
"Money, please."
__________
We untied the siren.
Her wrists were red from the Christmas lights. Her hair was a mess—long strands tangled from the fight, one side of her shirt torn, a faint scrape along her collarbone. She looked like someone who'd barely survived a bar brawl with a banshee and a hurricane.
Which, to be fair, she had.
We walked into the dining room just as Luciano's mom finished setting down the last plate. She turned with a warm smile—then stopped.
Her eyes immediately zeroed in on the siren.
"Who's this?" she asked, smile faltering. "Is she alright?"
Elara didn't even blink. "She's my cousin," she said smoothly. "She, uh… got caught up in one of those college protest stampedes near the subway. I told her to be careful, but you know how it is."
Luciano, to his credit, jumped in.
"She, uh—yeah! She got bumped into a trash can. Total mess. Happened earlier. I—I mean, obviously."
Elara sent him a please shut up look.
Luciano's mom hesitated.
Then smiled again. "Poor thing. Well, you're safe now. I'll get more food."
The siren said nothing. She just stared ahead, brushing her hair behind one ear, acting like she hadn't just been threatened with eternal torment an hour ago.
We all sat down.
The table was full. Warm food. Soft lighting. It smelled like a memory I'd never had.
And then it shattered.
Darian gasped—loud, rough, broken.
His body seized, like something invisible wrapped around his chest and crushed. His hands slammed down on the table—cutlery clattered, a plate cracked in half.
His head snapped back.
His eyes flew open—
Glowing green. Too bright. Blinding. Wrong.
And then he screamed.
Not like Darian.
Like something inside him was screaming.
I was on my feet, halfway out of my chair—then the pain hit me.
Like lightning through my spine. Like something ancient and cruel had grabbed my soul and dragged it sideways.
My knees hit the floor.
My claws tore through my fingers without warning. My fangs dropped—fast, sharp, instinctual.
And I howled.
The sound tore out of my chest before I could stop it—wolf-born, raw, feral.
The windows rattled.
Luciano's mom screamed. "What is happening?! What's wrong with them?!"
Luciano backed away from the table, wide-eyed, shaking. "Mamá—mamá don't go near them!"
Elara dropped beside his mom, holding her shoulders, whispering frantically, "It's okay, it's okay, they're not dying, I think—just—please sit, don't touch anything—"
I was burning.
Inside. Outside. Every breath ripped me open.
My heart pounded like it was trying to escape my ribs. My vision blurred with green fire. I could feel Darian's pain like it was my own. His agony poured into me like poison, and I couldn't stop it. Couldn't breathe.
My claws dug into the floor.
My wolf instincts were in full panic—howling, snarling, begging for release. My vampire side screamed for blood. I couldn't separate myself from him—I was drowning in his pain and mine, mixed and twisting and endless.
Darian collapsed sideways out of his chair.
He was still glowing. Still shaking.
He looked like he was dying.
Sylas was standing now, tense, eyes locked on Darian with a look I'd never seen before.
Fear.
Real fear.
"Darian—" he said, low and sharp.
But Darian didn't respond.
He was somewhere else. Trapped in something none of us could see.
And I—
I was right there with him.
Then—just like that—
It stopped.
The glow vanished.
The pressure lifted.
Darian sucked in a breath like he was reborn from fire. He pushed himself to his feet too fast—barely steady.
But I was still on the floor.
Still shaking.
Still bleeding from the inside.
He turned—and when he saw me, everything in him shifted.
He dropped down beside me. "Aurora—gods, I didn't know. I didn't know it would do that to you."
I could barely form words.
"You—what was that?" I rasped. "What the hell did you just do to me?"
"The bond," he said, breathless. "It's deeper now. You fed. I didn't think you'd feel it—feel everything. But I had a vision and you—"
His voice broke.
"I'm sorry."
I looked at him—pale, shaking, scared.
Not just because he hurt me.
Because he saw something.
Sylas stepped forward, finally.
His voice was cold. "What did you see?"
Darian stood. Slowly.
His hands were still trembling.
And when he spoke, I felt it in my bones.
"Something's coming."
And then—
BOOM.
The world exploded.
Glass. Heat. Screams. And then—
BEEEEEEEEEEP.
It pierced my skull like a blade. A sound too sharp. Too constant. My ears—gods, my ears were screaming. The explosion had sent a shockwave straight through my enhanced senses.
I couldn't hear anything else.
Just the ringing.
I was on the floor again. My vision blurred. My arms were weak. My legs wouldn't move.
The aftershocks of the bond-pain still hadn't let me go. My veins felt like they were still burning from the inside, every nerve crackling under my skin.
I blinked through the chaos.
Darian was in front of me.
His mouth was moving. His hands on my face, my shoulders, steadying me—pleading.
But I couldn't hear a single word.
Just. The. Ringing.
My heart was pounding wrong. Off-beat. My vision pulsed with it—like the whole room was shaking with every thud. And Darian—he looked frantic. His glow hadn't faded. Magic still flickered in his hands, green and wild.
I tried to speak, but my throat closed.
Then I saw people moving.
Luciano. Shouting something.
His mom stumbling backward, screaming.
Elara grabbed her, shielding her behind the overturned dining chairs.
Luciano tried to pull her further away—eyes wide, voice broken—but I still couldn't hear him. Just lips and terror.
The siren?
Still standing. Still watching. Useless.
I tried to move.
Couldn't.
Then—
Shadows in the smoke.
Figures stepping through the broken window, cloaked in deep purple-black armor lined with runes. Their eyes glowed with violet fire.
And that's when the ringing started to fade.
Like smoke being pulled out of my head.
"…Aurora—"
Darian's voice broke through—finally. Sharp. Desperate.
"Stay with me—"
Then a cold voice filled the room:
"Target confirmed."
Another followed.
"Bring her in. Dead or alive."
Velmoran soldiers.
I tried to push up—but I barely made it to my knees.
One of them raised a hand—magic coiling like a whip of shadows and flame.
He threw it.
I couldn't dodge.
But I didn't have to.
Because Darian snapped.
He stepped between me and the oncoming spell, and his voice dropped into something I had never heard before:
"Touch her again, and I'll erase you from every version of this world."
His hand sliced through the air.
And reality bent around him.
Green light surged outward like a living storm—runes spinning, glowing with wrath. The spell meant for me? It shattered midair, fragmented into harmless sparks that evaporated before they could reach the ground.
A soldier charged.
Darian caught their spell mid-cast—absorbed it into his palm. The soldier screamed as his magic was pulled straight out of his chest. His body convulsed once—and dropped.
Sylas appeared out of the smoke, blade in each hand, bleeding from a cut on his cheek. "Now that's hot."
A soldier went for him—Sylas ducked and jammed a dagger into their thigh. They fell with a grunt.
Another ran at me—still dazed, still vulnerable.
Darian saw it.
And he didn't hesitate.
A sigil spun into the air at his back, larger than anything he'd cast before—ancient, pulsing green with layered rings of glyphs. He lifted his hand and crushed it into the floor.
The attacker froze in midair—then screamed as the air around him collapsed inward like a dying star.
Gone.
Erased.
I gasped. "Holy shit."
Another spell flew toward Elara and Luciano.
Darian didn't even look—he just flared his hand behind him, a ripple of magic pulsing backward that turned the spell into harmless wind.
Luciano's mom was sobbing now.
Elara was shielding her with her body.
Sylas moved toward them, grabbing a kitchen pan mid-run and hurling it at a soldier's face with precision that should not be legal.
Darian stepped forward—slow, calm, terrifying.
"Let's finish this," he said, voice low.
And I saw it then.
The full storm.
He wasn't just a wizard.
He was war.
The battlefield—the living room—was a wreck of heat, smoke, and cracked runes burning into the floor. The last wave of Velmoran soldiers charged, reckless and full of death.
Darian's hands were already glowing.
But this time, he didn't strike.
He stepped forward, just once.
And spoke.
A single word.
Low. Ancient. Untranslatable.
The magic responded like it knew his voice.
The air cracked with green lightning. The walls shook. And then—
A ring of symbols ignited around the base of every soldier. Glowing glyphs rose from beneath their feet, crawling up their armor, their chests, their throats.
One breath later—
They all dropped.
All of them.
No sound. No screams. Just silence.
They hit the ground like puppets with cut strings. Magic smoking from their skin. Eyes wide. Gone.
And it was instant.
I blinked through the haze, still gasping, still stunned. The pain hadn't fully left my body, and I didn't know why.
Why wasn't I healing?
Why hadn't I bounced back?
Sylas walked over a still-smoking corpse, dragging his boot. "Okay… how the hell were their spells working that well in the mortal world?"
Darian didn't answer at first.
He stepped over to the body of the lead soldier—the one who had first entered. His eyes scanned the ruined armor. Then he crouched low, reaching carefully into the man's chestplate.
A dull glow flickered from within.
Darian pulled it out.
It was a small, multifaceted stone—deep green, etched with strange symbols that pulsed softly. It shimmered like it held a forest inside, glowing at the core like captured sunlight.
"Verdant Core," he muttered.
"A what?" Sylas asked.
Darian's voice was steady, but low. "A stabilization gem. Rare. Dangerous. Anchors spellcraft outside the immortal world. Usually banned." He stood quickly. "Which means this wasn't just a hit. This was sanctioned."
Then he turned toward me.
And ran.
The moment his eyes locked on mine—still dazed, still too weak—he didn't hesitate.
He crossed the room in seconds.
Dropped to his knees beside me.
"Aurora," he breathed, voice no longer a commander's—soft, worried, broken. "You're still not healing."
I tried to speak. Failed.
Without a word, he slipped his arms under me.
And lifted me.
So easily.
Like I weighed nothing.
One arm beneath my knees, the other braced behind my back. His magic still crackled faintly along his fingertips, but it didn't burn. It warmed.
His chest was solid. His jaw set. And his expression—gods.
He looked at me like I was the most important thing he'd ever held.
He carried me to the ruined couch and lowered me down slowly, carefully, like the world might shatter if he wasn't gentle enough.
I felt the cushions shift beneath me, broken springs groaning, but he kept holding me a moment longer—just long enough to make sure I wouldn't fall again.
Then he let go.
And I missed his warmth instantly.
He dropped to one knee beside me.
His hands hovered first. Then one moved to my wrist, brushing it carefully. Then my temple. My shoulder. Every scrape, every cut, every bruise—
He healed them.
Slow.
Precise.
Magic hummed softly through his fingers—warm, not sharp. Like golden light filtered through trees. Like he was telling my body, you're safe now.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly. "I didn't know the bond would… do that."
I watched him.
Still stunned.
Still aching.
But not from the pain anymore.
From the way he looked at me.
Like I mattered.
Like I was his.
I didn't move.
Couldn't.
His magic still shimmered faintly along my skin, soft like mist, fading as every wound disappeared under his touch.
Then his fingers paused—just beneath my collarbone.
His voice dropped. Low. Meant only for me.
"I can handle war, betrayal, pain—"
A breath. A brush of his thumb.
"But not you bleeding in my arms."
I didn't know how to respond.
Didn't know how to breathe.
And that was when I heard them.
Footsteps. Shaky. Fast.
Luciano and Elara stumbled out from the hallway, dragging his mom with them. All three of them wide-eyed, trembling, faces pale with fear.
Luciano's mom gasped when she saw the bodies. "What… what happened?"
"We're alive, that's what happened," Sylas muttered. "Barely."
The siren stepped forward, arms crossed, not a scratch on her. "Well," she said with a sigh, "I'm going to need more money."
"Put it on your wishlist," Sylas shot back.
But Darian didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't even glance at them.
His eyes were still on me.
Only me.
And for some cursed, terrifying, wonderful reason—
My heart melted.
A little too much.
A little too fast.