The walk home was a blur. Mark moved through the deserted streets, his mind replaying night's craziness. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a throbbing pain in his shoulder and a dull ache in his bruised muscles.
Pushing the front door open carefully, he scanned the dim living room for Lida but found no trace of her. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he tip-toed up the stairs, each step making his shoulder flared even more.
The bathroom's harsh light revealed the damage. A jagged gash marred his left shoulder, crimson staining the edges of his once-white T-shirt. Several other scrapes and bruises peppered his arms and legs, souvenirs of the night's chaos.
He stripped off his shirt, hissing as the fabric pulled against the wound. With sluggish movements, he cleaned the gash, applying antiseptic and a makeshift bandage from the first-aid kit. The other injuries were minor in comparison, mere stings that barely registered anymore.
Splashing cold water on his face, he tried to wash away the grime and lingering adrenaline rush.
The digital clock on the bathroom counter flashed 5:48 AM. He considered trying to get a few hours of sleep before his morning class, but the thought of closing his eyes and facing the inevitable onslaught of nightmares made him shudder. Yeah, that's not happening.
Collapsing onto the bed, he stared up at the ceiling, his mind racing. How the hell did things escalate so quickly? One minute I am training, the next, battling a teleporting psychopath.
The memory of the woman tied up and vulnerable flashed through his mind. He'd risked his life for her, yet he didn't even know her name.
What was all that about? Why were they kidnapping her?
The questions gnawed at him, but after a few minutes of fruitless pondering, Mark decided to let it go. It's none of my business.
He'd done his part, saved the girl. It wasn't his problem anymore.
Time slipped by, his thoughts a jumbled mess of adrenaline, fatigue, and a nagging sense of unease. The first rays of dawn crept through the window, painting the room in a soft, golden light.
"Mark! Breakfast!" Lida's voice echoed up the stairs.
He dragged himself out of bed and opened his door, leaning against the frame. "Not hungry!" he called back. "I'll grab something at the cafeteria."
"Alright, but don't be late for class."
"Actually," he said, improvising, "my first class is pretty late today. I'm gonna sleep in."
"Fine."
Mark breathed a sigh of relief. He knew if he went downstairs now, Lida would see right through his facade. He was a terrible liar, especially when it came to his aunt. She's got a sixth sense for this stuff. He wasn't ready to face her questions, her concern, or her inevitable disappointment. Yeah, not happening. Not now. He needed a moment to collect himself before dealing with that storm.
"Mark!" Lida's voice boomed again. "Are you going to talk to her today?"
"Who?"
"Ria."
"Uhh..Y—Yeah."
"Good," she said. "Don't forget."
Mark settled back onto his bed, burying his head in pillow. He'd had to deal with this. Shit.
The memory of their encounter, the intensity of their connection, that damn dream, the lingering scent of her perfume - it was all too vivid. He knew he needed to talk to her, but what the hell was he supposed to say?
His thoughts raced. How do I even find her?
Going back to her house— no, that was creepy stalker territory.
Maybe someone at college knows her? He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts. He called a few of his friends, describing Ria's appearance, hoping someone would recognize her. Some offered vague possibilities - "I think I saw her in the cafeteria once" or "She might be in my Intro to Psych class."
A couple offered sensible suggestions, but most just teased him about his "crush" or admitted they had no clue.
"Shit," Mark cursed, throwing his phone onto the bed. "Useless bunch of idiots."
He forced himself out of bed, the weight of Lida's words pressing down on him. Be open to the possibilities. Easy for her to say.
He pulled on his clothes, his mind still a chaotic mess.He crept downstairs, hoping to avoid another encounter with his aunt. The house was silent, save for the gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. Lida's car was gone, her usual spot in the driveway empty. Off the hook, at least for now.
A folded note on the table caught his eye. He picked it up, his heart pounding.
"Remember to be gentle with her, Mark," Lida had written in her neat, flowing script. "She's probably scared too."
Right…..Gentle. He crumpled the note in his fist. He couldn't keep running from this. He had to face it, no matter how terrifying it seemed.
He stepped outside, the morning sun warm on his skin. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the unknown. He had a girl to find and a whole lot of explaining to do.
* * *
He looked around the crowded college campus, searching for any sign of her. Mark scanned the faces of the students bustling between classes, his gaze lingering on every brunette with even a hint of those long limbs and that graceful swagger, only to be met with disappointment. Ria was nowhere to be found.
Hours later, Mark was no closer to finding her. He'd scoured every corner of the campus - the library, the cafeteria, the student union, even the damn gym. He was starting to feel like a stalker, his frustration mounting with each passing minute.
Shame, a cold fist tightening in his gut, reminded him of the abrupt way he'd stormed out on her. What if she was angry? Hurt? Scared?
Idiot! You should have just stayed and talked to her.
A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, the morning sun beating down on him mercilessly.
Where could she be? What if she's avoiding me?
His shirt clung to his skin, the sweat mixing with the coppery tang of dried blood from his shoulder. He collapsed onto a bench near the bustling quad, his stomach rumbling, a reminder that adrenaline wasn't exactly breakfast.
What now? He wracked his brain, trying to come up with a plan. Going back to the house and waiting seemed like his only option, as creepy as that sounded. A sigh escaped his lips, a blend of frustration and resignation. He raked a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers brushed the gash on his shoulder.
Just as he was about to resign himself to a day of lurking outside a stranger's house, he spotted her. Ria. Walking towards the entrance to the science building, her brown hair cascading over her shoulders.
Adrenaline surged through him, and without a second thought, he took off in a sprint.
"Ria!" Mark called out, jogging after her.
She looked up. A flash of surprise on her face as she spotted him. He hurried toward her, each step an effort as his exhaustion finally caught up with him.
She stepped back, her expression wary. "What are you doing here?"
"I…uh.. I needed to talk to you."
She hesitated. "I…I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Ria, please," he implored. "Just give me a chance to explain."
"I don't—"
A voice cut through the growing tension between them. "Hey, Ria, who's this?" A girl with fiery red hair emerged from the crowd, a curious glance settling on Mark.
"Ria? You gonna introduce us?" The redhead nudged her, that curious gaze sharpening.
"It's…" She hesitated, her jaw clenched. "Not important, Sarah. We were just—"
"Five minutes, Ria," he pressed, urgency making his voice even rougher. "Let me explain."
She met his gaze, a silent battle raging behind those eyes, then sighed, the sound a concession. "Fine. But not here."
* * *
The classroom door closed with a click. Silence descended, making the empty room feel even more deserted. Ria dropped her bag on a nearby table, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.
"Alright," she said, her voice clipped. "Talk."
He opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He had been so focused on finding her that he hadn't actually figured out what he was going to say once he did. He looked at her, her face a mixture of apprehension and annoyance, and his mind went blank. Those gold-flecked eyes burning into him with an intensity that eclipsed any classroom lecture.
Ria waved a hand in front of his face. "Hello? Are you going to say something, or are you just going to stare at me all day?"
"Yeah, right," Mark stammered, shaking his head as if to clear the fog from his brain. "Sorry. I just…"
He trailed off, searching for the right words, but they seemed to have deserted him. Shit.
Mark took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. "Look, Ria, I'm really sorry," he started, his voice sincere. "I shouldn't have just left like that. It was… I don't know, I just panicked."
He stumbled over his words, struggling to articulate the whirlwind of emotions he'd been grappling with. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, feeling like a broken record. "It's just… everything is so confusing….."
Ria remained silent, her expression unreadable.
Mark pressed on, his words tumbling out in a torrent of apologies and explanations. He talked about the shock of their encounter, the confusion about the bond, his fears.
This is going nowhere, he thought, feeling a wave of despair.
Ria seemed distant, guarded. He could sense a wall around her, a barrier he couldn't penetrate. He kept talking, but even he wasn't sure what he was saying anymore. The words felt hollow, meaningless.
How do I fix this?
Ria shifted, her fingers flexing on the edge of the desk beside her as she narrowed her eyes, that blank, impenetrable stare now focused with an intensity that took his breath away.
"Are you hurt?"
"Huh?" He blinked, the question taking him by surprise.
Only then did the throbbing ache in his shoulder register. He glanced at his shirt, noticing the spreading bloodstain staining his shirt.
"Ah, shit," he muttered, wincing. Damn it. I must have messed up the bandage.
She moved closer, her brow furrowed as she examined the wound. "What the hell happened?"
The scent of her perfume— not that overpowering wave that had consumed him in the library, but a gentler, subtler version that was a thousand times more potent now that he was aware of her presence— made his head spin.
Her fingers gently probed the injury, sending a confounding shiver through his body at her nearness.
"It's nothing, really. Just a minor scuffle, no big deal," he said with a shrug, immediately regretting it as pain shot through the wound.
"You're bleeding through your shirt, I'd hardly call that minor," she said firmly."You need to take care of that immediately. Take off your shirt."
"What?" Mark blurted out, caught off guard.
"Take off your shirt," she repeated, her tone brooking no argument.
"It's fine," he insisted, backing away. "Uh, I-I can just get it looked at back home."
Ria scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "Seriously? Do you think I'm going to let you walk around with an open wound like that? Do you want to get an infection?"
"I'll be fine…"
"Now," she demanded, her voice sharp. "Take it off, or I'll do it for you."
Mark stared at her, stunned. She was clearly not taking no for an answer.
"Ria, I…"
"Shirt," she said, her patience clearly at an end. "Now."
Mark found himself speechless. He wasn't sure what surprised him more - her sudden concern or the unexpected stubbornness she was displaying. She's not going to back down, he thought, noting the determined look in her eyes.
He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Fine," he said, pulling his shirt over his head.
The classroom felt stifling now. Heat crept up his neck, a blush of shame as he became aware of her gaze on him. He tried not to meet her eyes, but caught her stealing few glances at his chest, those full lips parting— a subtle, unconscious reaction, a flicker of appreciation in her gaze.
"Sit," she instructed.
He obeyed, perching awkwardly on the edge of the nearest desk.
She stepped closer, her expression serious. Muttered a few words under her breath, her fingers tracing a pattern in the air. She touched his wound, and a wave of intense cold washed over him.
"Ow! Damn…" he winced, pulling back, but her firm touch held him in place.
"Sorry," she offered in a soft tone, not meeting his gaze. "It'll sting at first, but it'll heal up faster."
True to her word, Mark could feel the ragged gash knitting itself back together, the bleeding slowing. It was a strange sensation, a tingling numbness followed by a dull ache.
"How… how are you able to do that?" Mark asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you were an ice mage. I didn't know mages could heal."
Her movements stilled momentarily before resuming their idle rhythm across his injury. When at last she spoke, her voice was measured and deliberate. "I'm… something of a hybrid," she said, her voice hesitant. "Mostly a mage, but there's some witch blood in my lineage."
"Whoa," he breathed. "That's possible?"
Ria shrugged.
"That's so cool."
The faintest hint of a smile ghosted across Ria's lips, and Mark felt his breath hitch in his throat.
Damn, she's beautiful, he thought, his heart skipping a beat as he absorbed every detail of her —long, dark lashes, the way her lips formed a determined line, the subtle curve of her jaw.
A strand of silky brown hair fell across her face, and she brushed it back with a quick, graceful movement of her hand.
He was mesmerized.
"How long are you going to keep staring?"
"Uh, sorry," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Couldn't help it."
Ria gave him a look, before focusing her attention back on his wound. The silence returned, but this time, it wasn't as awkward. Mark's mind was still racing, trying to figure out how to bridge the chasm that had opened between them.
Bonded or not, I screwed up.
"I didn't know," he blurted out, the words escaping before he could overthink them.
"Didn't know what?"
"About… about any of it," he explained "About being bonded, about any of this." He gestured vaguely, encompassing the strange and chaotic world he'd stumbled into.
"Look, Ria," Mark continued, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know I screwed up. Big time. Walking out on you like that was… well, it was a dick move. No excuses." He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "It's just… this whole thing….it's a lot to process, you know?"
Ria's expression remained guarded, but a flicker of curiosity danced in her eyes.
"See, here's the thing," he continued, his voice gaining momentum as he spoke. "My parents died when I was eight. Since then, it's been me and my aunt, bouncing from town to town, always laying low. Lida, she's… protective, to say the least. She kept me shielded from all this supernatural stuff. Said it was too dangerous, too risky. So, I don't really know much about how any of this works. I've barely even met anyone else like us."
He let out a frustrated sigh. "So, yeah, I know about ether. I can do some pretty crazy shit myself." He gestured towards his healing shoulder, a wry smile twisting his lips. "But all this other stuff? It's like a foreign language to me."
"When I saw you in the library… I felt it….This… overwhelming pull, it blindsided me completely. I've never experienced anything even remotely like those emotions since losing my parents," his gaze dropped to his hands, fidgeting restlessly in his lap. "Then everything spiraled so quickly with us…you know. And then you saying we were bonded… it was just too much. It freaked me out, okay? I didn't know what it meant, what it implied. I just reacted. Stupidly. Impulsively."
Finally daring to meet her eyes once more, Mark saw the shuttered vacancy beginning to thaw ever so slightly in their molten depths.
"I'm not trying to make excuses for how I acted," he continued, his voice softening. "I was an idiot. I just… I don't want to hurt you. I was scared and confused, and completely out of my depth. I just…I didn't want to keep hurting you by sticking around when I had no damn clue what was happening or what I was doing."
His jaw clenched as he struggled to articulate the tangled skein of his emotions over the past turbulent day.
"I swear, Ria, I really didn't know anything about this whole bonded phenomenon until my aunt filled me in later. And even then…" He trailed off with a helpless shrug. "I want to understand. I want to understand this… connection… and I want to understand you."
He finally fell silent, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion of unburdening his turmoil in one impassioned torrent.
Ria stared at him for a long, agonizing moment— not with the accusation that had filled those eyes before, but something that felt a hell of a lot like assessment.
"Whoa…"
He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Yeah. Whoa pretty much sums it up."
"That's… a lot."
"Believe me, it's a lot to live with."
A beat of silence hung between them, but this time, it wasn't as heavy, as strained. Mark noticed a subtle easing in her posture.
"So," she finally asked, her voice laced with a hesitant curiosity, "you really had no idea about any of this? About being bonded?"
"I swear. It's all new territory for me. Never even heard the word until yesterday."
He couldn't be sure, but he sensed a flicker of understanding in her eyes, a subtle softening of her expression. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to chip away at the wall she had built around herself.
A sudden wave of intense cold flooded Mark's shoulder, making him flinch and suck in a sharp breath. "Ah, fuckkk!"
"Shit, sorry!" Ria pulled her hand away, eyes wide with alarm. "I totally spaced. I was… focused. Are you okay?"
"It's okay, I'm okay," he said, though his voice was tight with pain. He rubbed his shoulder, trying to ease the stinging cold that lingered.
"I'm so sorry, I was concentrating on… well, on other things, and I just kept pouring energy into it. Are you alright?"
"Yeah, it's fine," Mark insisted, testing the movement of his arm. The pain was fading quickly, replaced by a dull ache. "I kind of deserved it anyway, after the way I acted."
Ria bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor. "I… I shouldn't have reacted the way I did either. I was just… surprised."
"It's okay," he said, offering her a reassuring smile. He looked down at his shoulder, amazed at how quickly the wound was healing. "See? All better. You're a miracle worker."
"I'm really sorry," she mumbled again, still looking embarrassed.
Silence fell between them once more. Mark racked his brain, trying to come up with something to say. Come on, Mark, think! You got this far, don't blow it now.
"So…" they said simultaneously. And then they both laughed.
"What now?"
She shrugged. "I really don't know. What do you suggest?"
"I was thinking… maybe we could grab a coffee? Or something? Unless you'd rather file a restraining order."
The unexpected invitation hung there, and for one horrifying second, Mark braced for her withering rejection. But then the slightest of smiles curved her lips as she huffed a breathless chuckle. "You're seriously asking me out? Now, after everything."
"Well," he said, taking a deep breath, "I was going to ask you yesterday before you mentioned needing to call your parents and then things just escalated…"
"Ah, right…bad timing on my part, I guess."
"Not really," he countered with a lopsided grin. "Considering everything. So, what do you say? Coffee? My treat?"
"I don't know," she said, her voice hesitant. "This whole situation is… a lot. And to be honest, Even I'm still processing everything that happened."
"I get it," he said, nodding. "Believe me, I'm right there with you. But that's kind of why I want to talk. To try and make sense of it all. Over coffee, maybe with a giant slice of chocolate cake?"
"You're bribing me with cake now?" Ria asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"It's worth a shot, right?"
She chuckled. "I'm still not convinced about this whole situation."
"Me neither," he said honestly. "But coffee seems like a decent starting point." Then, because he couldn't help himself, he added, "Unless you're lactose intolerant? We could do smoothies. Or carrot sticks? Whatever you desire."
Her smile widened. "You're a strange guy."
"That's what my aunt keeps telling me," he quipped. "She also says I have a knack for finding trouble."
"Well on that front," her gaze fell on his shoulder. "she might be on to something."
"So, what do you say?" He pressed, hoping he wasn't pushing too hard. "Coffee? A chance to figure this thing out?"
She bit her lip, her gaze flickering to the floor. "I…"
He could see her weighing her options, her jaw set with that same stubborn determination he was quickly coming to admire.
"Look," he said, his voice a little too eager, "I know this amazing little cafe downtown. They roast their own beans, have all these crazy latte flavors…you can even see the roasting process through this big glass window. I am sure—"
"You really know your coffee, huh?" Her lips twitched with amusement.
"Trying to really sell it here. Am I doing a good job?"
"You are." And there it was again— that ghost of a smile. "But, for the record… I'm more of a tea person."
"Well, they can go—" Mark began, but his stomach chose that moment to growl, a low rumble that echoed through the quiet classroom.
"Fuck." he muttered, wishing he could disappear.
"Someone's hungry," Ria said, her amusement undeniable.
"Yeah, long night," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Skipped breakfast…"
"Well, I'm not sure about coffee…"
Damn it, stomach, you traitor! Mark thought, cursing his rumbling insides.
"But," she continued, "I do love the burgers at the cafeteria."
"Great!" Mark exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically. He winced as her laughter filled the room again. "Sorry," He hopped off the desk, eager to escape the awkwardness. "I just… really like their burgers, too. So, how about it? Want to grab some?"
Ria arched an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips.
"What?"
"As much as I'm enjoying the view," she said, her gaze lingering on his bare chest, "I think some people might object to your current state of dress."
Mark glanced down at himself. "Oh, shit. Sorry." He couldn't help a sheepish grin as he quickly pulled his shirt back on. "Shall we?"
She hesitated, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "C-Can…uh.. I ask you something?"
"Sure," he said, his stomach clenching with a fresh wave of anxiety.
"What's…. your name?"
Mark stared at her, bewildered. "I…you don't know my name?"
A tinge of pink colored Ria's cheeks as she lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "Well, we sort of skipped the formalities when we…met."
He thought back on their encounter, realizing she was right. "And you were giving me a hard time about asking you out?"
She shrugged again, a hint of mischief in her eyes.
"It's Mark."
"Mark," she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. "I like it. It suits you."
"Glad you approve," he said, his confidence returning. "So, since we seem to have skipped nearly every normal social protocol, how about we complete the introduction properly? Over burgers?"
Ria rewarded him with that dazzling smile that caused his heart to stutter in his chest. "Sure, I think I'd like that."