Every instinct screamed at me to run—run fast, run far, run for the godsdamn hills.
But my body refused.
Frozen. Trapped in my own skin. Like something ancient had reached inside me and flicked the "off" switch. My limbs ignored me, locked in place as his presence coiled around me like smoke.
The air was thick. Electric. Not just heavy—charged—like standing too close to lightning you couldn't see, only feel, burning straight through your veins. My pulse thundered, deafening, but my feet wouldn't budge.
I had to move. I had to—
"Did you think you could outrun me, mortal?"
His voice slithered through the space between us—low, ancient, with the weight of centuries wrapped around every syllable. My heart stuttered hard enough to hurt.
I forced myself to look at him.
And gods help me, I looked.
Those burning amber eyes hit like a dagger—sharp, cold, unrelenting. They pinned me in place, stole the breath right from my lungs. But behind that glacier chill… something flickered. Something raw. Something wrong.
"You—"
The word cracked out of me, fragile and jagged. It wasn't just fear that had hollowed out my voice. It was something else. Something worse.
Something that pulled.
That twisted.
That wanted.
I hated it. Hated that I couldn't look away. Hated that part of me felt him—deep, low, curled like smoke in my gut.
"You can't have me!" I snapped, voice shaking with rage and panic, defiance rising up like a tide to meet the storm around me. I threw my chin high, even though my legs trembled beneath me. "Not ever."
His mouth curved—just a flicker, too fast to call a smile. Cruel. Knowing.
And then he was closer.
One step.
One breath away.
The space between us vanished and still—I couldn't move.
"You don't get to choose, Seraphina," he murmured, voice like velvet laced with venom. "The gods already maHis breath brushed my de that decision."
skin, cold and electric, crawling down my spine in a slow, intimate terror. It wasn't fear I felt—not exactly. It was deeper than that. Wilder.
Wronger.
Like he'd already seeped into me, like his presence lived just under my skin.
I clenched my fists until my nails cut into my palms. Pain. Anchor. Focus. I latched onto it like it could keep me whole. But the storm inside me was rising—rage, confusion, that damn pull—and I didn't know which one would consume me first.
Even if my voice trembled, it still stood.
"I won't let you."
And then I flipped him off. Middle finger high, sharp, and proud.
A challenge. A dare.
Come get me. Break me. Try me.
Because I wasn't going down without a fight.