Elena lay on the bed. The soft, rhythmic purring of Charlie curled beside her head was the only thing keeping her grounded. She reached out to scratch behind his ears, trying to absorb the cat’s calmness. Ever since she had learned about the bond she shared with the artifact, she had been bracing herself for another encounter with the Noctrachs. She’d gone over it in her head a dozen times—what she would feel, what she would do—but the reality of seeing them again was nothing like what she had imagined.

The first time she had laid eyes on them had been in the hallway of her apartment. Back then, her mind had blanked with pure terror. The otherworldly sight of a shadow moving with intent, coming to life, had convinced her she was losing her sanity. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. But this time…this time was different. She had felt no terror, no revulsion at their warped, shadowed forms. Instead, there had been a strange sense of familiarity, almost kinship. The fear she felt now was not of the Noctrachs themselves, but of what they could do if they reached her—or the artifact.

What had gripped her most, as she had stared into their gleaming, hungry eyes, was not horror but sadness.

Her gaze drifted to her left hand, which she raised in front of her face to study. The black veins twisting their way up from her fingers faded as they neared her wrist. The tips of her fingers, now faintly pointed and darkened, no longer looked fully human. She flexed them experimentally, and the movement sent a dull ache up her arm, a reminder of what had happened earlier.

When the Noctrachs had come for her, she had felt it—the artifact responding to her fear. A surge of energy had pulsed through her, connecting her to it, as if it were alive and trying to shield her. But whatever it had been trying to do had failed, likely because the artifact was still incomplete. The moment the power faded, she had seen the blackening of her veins. She had scrambled to her room before Theo could notice, unwilling to face his questions—or his worry.

She exhaled sharply, running her fingers over the darkened veins. A pang of disappointment tightened her chest. He hadn’t come to check on her yet. Elena shut her eyes, hating herself for wanting him to. The faint stirrings of the bond whispered in her mind, like shadows curling at the edges of her thoughts.

You don’t matter. Nobody cares about you. You’re a burden on everyone.

She forced herself to focus on her hand again, willing the voices to quiet as a heavier dread replaced the disappointment.

Is this how it happened to you? she thought, her mind flashing to the Noctrach that had reached for her, its clawed hand outstretched. Is that what using the artifact’s power would lead to? She felt a weight press into her chest.

Turning her head, Elena looked at Charlie. The cat was partly awake now, his green eyes half-lidded as he nuzzled the side of her head. His steady presence gave her a small measure of peace.

“What do you think, Charlie?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Will you still love me if I turn into a Noctrach?”

Charlie’s eyes snapped open, suddenly alert. The shift in his demeanor made Elena freeze, panic rising in her chest like a flood. Her thoughts spiraled as a dozen fears assaulted her all at once. Then came the soft knock at the door, breaking the silence.

Her breath caught. For one terrible moment, her mind traveled back to her apartment, to the night when Charlie had reacted in a similar way—just before the Noctrach had appeared. But then she exhaled.

It wasn’t them. It was just Theo.

Wait. Shoot. It’s Theo.

She bolted upright on the bed, her heart pounding. What were the chances he hadn’t overheard what she had just said to Charlie?

“Yes?” she called out, wincing at the annoyance in her own voice.

The door creaked open without waiting for an invitation. Theo stepped inside, his piercing gaze already locked onto her. The intensity in his eyes seemed to suck all the air out of the room.

He had changed since earlier—his torn clothes gone, replaced by fresh ones, and his dark hair was damp, clinging to his forehead from what must have been a recent shower. The clean, sharp scent of him wafted faintly into the room, making her stomach twist.

“What do you mean,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “if you turn into a Noctrach?”

Zero chance he didn’t hear, she thought bitterly, heat rising to her face.

Elena sighed. For a fleeting moment, she contemplated hiding it from him, sparing herself from the way Theo would look at her. But she knew it was pointless. He was bound to notice eventually.

She let out a shaky breath, unsure how to even begin explaining what had happened. Her fingers twitched nervously as Theo stepped closer. His scent washed over her—a mix of woodsy pine and crisp, clean linen. She could breathe that scent in for the rest of her life.

"What did you mean, Elena?" he asked again, his voice firm. He wasn’t going to let this go.

Her throat tightened as she reluctantly moved her hand from behind her back, holding it out for him to see. “This... happened earlier,” she said softly. “After I touched the artifact.” She paused, her heart stuttering in her chest as his eyes flicked to her hand. “I don’t think…” She faltered, unsure how to finish.

Theo’s gaze sharpened, and before she could pull away, he reached for her hand. His fingers closed gently around hers, his touch cool and steady. Her pulse quickend as he tilted her hand slightly, studying it in the dim light. His fingers traced along the dark veins, following their path as they twisted and faded near her wrist. His touch was so soft it sent a shiver skittering down her spine.

She swallowed hard. “I don’t actually think I’ll turn into a Noctrach,” she finished, though her voice wavered.

Theo’s eyes lifted to meet hers, worry etched deeply into his expression. His hand still cradled hers, as though he were afraid she might disappear if he let go. “Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

She shook her head. “No… not really. It just feels strange. Like... I can still feel it there. The artifact’s energy, I mean. It’s not gone. It’s just... quiet now.”

His jaw tightened, and he turned her hand slightly, inspecting the pointed black tips of her fingers. “This shouldn’t have happened,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It’s a reaction to the artifact, but why—” He stopped mid-thought, his thumb brushing over her palm in a soothing motion.

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Elena tried to pull her hand back, the intimacy of the moment overwhelming, but Theo held it firmly, completely lost in his own thoughts. She cleared her throat, and the sound jolted him back to reality. He blinked, his gaze sharpening as he realized what he was doing. Slowly, he let her hand go and stepped back, regaining his composure.

“I made dinner,” he said, his tone cautious. “I was hoping you’d come eat with me.”

“Eat with you?” she repeated her eyebrows slightly raised.

“Well, I won’t be eating,” Theo admitted, his hesitation palpable. “But I thought maybe you could, and I could sit with you. We could…talk.” His words came slowly, as though he were testing them, unsure of her reaction.

Talk? No. The idea of talking—of dredging up whatever unpleasant truth he felt the need to share—made her stomach churn. She didn’t want to eat, and she definitely didn’t want to talk.

“No, thank you,” she said curtly.

Theo let out a long breath, his fists clenching at his sides. A muscle worked in his jaw, and for a moment, it looked like he might turn away. But then his posture shifted, his stance solidifying as though he were planting himself there, refusing to back down.

“Elena,” he said, his voice steady but edged with tension.

“No,” she snapped, cutting him off before he could say more.

“If you don’t want to sit with me,” Theo said, his voice tightening, “then at least let me bring you something to eat.”

She looked away.

“Elena,” Theo said, his voice low but insistent, the frustration creeping into his tone, “you can’t keep skipping meals.”

“I can do what I want,” she shot back, standing abruptly, her movements sharp.

“And is what you want to starve to death?” His frustration flared, the restraint in his voice beginning to crack. “Because if it’s not, then I have to insist that you eat something.”

“Maybe it is what I want,” she said coldly, her gaze challenging him, daring him to respond.

Theo’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as his fangs elongated, catching the faint glint of light in the room. “Well, if death is what you’re looking for,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl, vibrating with restrained power, “I can think of far more pleasant ways to make it happen.”

The air between them crackled. Elena swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs. Heat bloomed in her core, ignited by his intensity and the audacity of his words. Her thoughts scattered, leaving her disarmed, vulnerable. Even the insistent whispers in the back of her mind seemed to hush, silenced by the sheer gravity of him.

She parted her lips to respond, to deflect the fire building between them, but no words came. Nothing coherent formed.

His gaze was locked on her, intense and unyielding, and for a moment, she saw through the cracks in his carefully restrained composure. He wasn’t just angry—he was desperate. Desperate for her to listen, to care, to let him in.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she finally managed, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and something she couldn’t quite name. “Why do you even care if I eat? Why do you keep—” She stopped herself, her fists curling at her sides as if gripping her frustration might keep her steady. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Theo blinked, his face twisting in confusion. “What?”

“You don’t owe me anything!” she snapped, the words tumbling out like a flood she couldn’t stop. “I take it all back. What I said before about you owing me—that was wrong. You don’t. So you can stop feeling guilty, and you can stop hovering. Just… leave me alone, Theo.”

Her voice broke at his name. He stood motionless.

“Elena,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said quickly, avoiding his gaze.

“Yes, you do,” he pressed, stepping closer. “Why are you pushing me away? Why have you been treating me like this?”

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are!” Theo’s voice rose, his frustration spilling over. “Every time I try to help you, every time I try to be here for you, you shove me away. Why? What did I do that made you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you!” she shouted, her voice raw and cracking under the weight of her emotions. “I—” She stopped herself, her breathing uneven as tears stung her eyes.

“Then what is it?” Theo demanded. “Tell me, Elena. Please.”

Her lips trembled, and she turned her back to him, hugging herself tightly. For a long moment, the only sound was her unsteady breathing.

“Why did you sleep with me?” she finally asked, turning slowly to face him.

Theo’s brows knit together, a look of surprise and confusion on his face. “What?”

“Why did you sleep with me that night? Tell me the truth.”

Theo stared at her as if for the first time. He took a tentative step toward her. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Elena hugged herself tighter, her nails digging into her arms - bracing herself against whatever he was about to say.

“Because I wanted to,” he said softly.

She blinked.

He took another step towards her.

“Because I haven’t been able to get the memory of the first time we met out of my head. Because I thought I’d never seen such a warm, loving smile on someone with so much pain in their eyes. Because you’re strong and smart and kind.” His voice dropped, his gaze holding hers. “Because you smell like lavender and taste like heaven, and I wanted to worship every damn part of you.”

Elena’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her hands falling to her side as she tried to process his words.

Theo’s expression softened, vulnerability flickering across his face. “Why didn’t you ask me this before?”

“Because I…” She faltered, her voice shaking, her vision becoming blurry from the moisture building in her eyes. “Because I thought you did it out of obligation. Because I asked.”

“Obligation?” he repeated, his voice low, disbelieving. He shook his head. “God, you really don’t remember that night do you?”

She said nothing. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck and into her cheeks.

“Elena, I shared a part of me with you. I thought—” He hesitated, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought maybe you felt the same. But then you kept your distance, and I told myself it was for the best. That you were better off without me.”

Her tears finally spilled over. “It’s not what I wanted,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I just didn’t think… I didn’t think you…”

“What do you want, Elena?” Theo asked, his voice rough.

“I…” She couldn’t finish. Her gaze flickered to his lips, betraying the answer she couldn’t bring herself to speak.

Theo closed the distance between them, his hand cupping her cheek as he tilted her face up to his. His dark eyes searched hers. “Is this what you want?”he murmured, brushing his lips against hers in a featherlight touch that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Her only response was her ragged breathing, her lips parting slightly as she looked at him with wide, vulnerable eyes. That was all he needed.

He kissed her, fully and without hesitation, the connection deepening as weeks of unspoken tension and raw desire poured into the moment. She returned the kiss, her hands clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer. His hands traced down her sides, steady but reverent, as if committing every curve and contour of her to memory.

"Or…" he murmured, breaking the kiss as his lips traced a path along her jaw to the shell of her ear. His voice was low and rough, laden with desire. "Is it this?"

His hand slid lower, skimming the inside of her thigh with deliberate slowness, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His fingers traveled upward, finding the apex. He pressed lightly, and a surge of pleasure coursed through her—the pressure a tantalizing promise.

A soft groan slipped past her lips, and he smiled against her skin, his breath cool on the delicate curve of her neck. His fangs grazed her lightly, the teasing sensation igniting a shiver that raced down her spine.

She barely registered the loss of his touch when he stepped back. Her chest heaved, her mind reeling, as she watched him move to the door. She heard the quiet click of the lock, and then his dark gaze found hers again. Slowly, deliberately, he walked back to her, the air between them electric.