"You're joking, right?"
"Why would I joke about something like this?"
He stared at her, his mind scrambling. This has to be some sort of elaborate prank, right?
"I… I don't understand. W-What do you mean 'bonded'? What does that even…?"
"You seriously don't know?"
"Know what?" He retorted, his frustration mounting. "That I'm committed to a woman I just met after some crazy, out-of-this-world sex?"
"It wasn't just sex," she corrected him, her tone turning serious. "I-It….It is… a connection, okay? We are tied to each other."
"Tied? Like with ropes?" His own weak attempt at humor fell flat.
"God, you are clueless, aren't you?" Her shoulders slumped. "Listen to me we are…..how to say this...mates now."
"Mates? Li-Like… penguins?"
She rolled her eyes. "Not exactly. It's more like… soulmates, but with a lot more… intensity."
"Intensity?" Mark echoed, his voice rising. What the hell is she talking about? "You call this 'intensity'? I call it freaking insane! One minute I'm in library, the next I'm chasing you across town, and now I'm apparently married?"
"Hey, you were the one who couldn't keep your hands off me," she retorted, crossing her arms defensively.
"Because of your damn perfume!" Mark shot back, gesturing wildly. "It was like some kind of… love potion or something!"
"It's not perfume. It's… it's my scent. It's how bonded individuals recognize each other."
"Recognize each other? For what?" Mark scoffed. "A quickie in the library stacks?"
"It means that we have an affinity to be together- mind, body and soul."
He threw his hands up in the air. "This is ridiculous! I don't even know your name!"
"I am Ria." She introduced herself nonchalantly. "And whether you like it or not, we're bonded now. So, get used to it."
"Get used to it?" His voice rose an octave. "I can't just 'get used to it'! This is my life we're talking about! My future!"
"And mine," Ria added, her tone softening slightly. "Look, I get that this is a lot to process, but…"
"A lot to process? This is insane! This is…" He paused, searching for the right word. "This is batshit crazy!"
"You know what's crazy? You acting like this is all my fault. You didn't seem to complain when you were deep inside me."
"You expect me to just accept this… this 'bonded' nonsense without any explanation, without any choice in the matter?"
Ria's lips pressed into a thin line, her patience wearing thin. "Look, I get that this is a lot to take in, but yelling at me isn't going to change anything."
"Then explain it to me! This stupid supernatural pheromone trip!"
"It's not a pheromone trip," she countered, her voice rising to match his. "It's a bond! A connection that goes deeper than anything you can possibly imagine!"
"Yeah, well, my imagination is having a hard time wrapping itself around the idea of being married to a woman who throws temper tantrums."
Her face hardened, and she stepped closer. "Maybe if you took a moment to understand instead of panicking, you'd see I'm not the enemy here."
"I don't even know who you are," Mark clenched his jaw, his fists balling up at his sides. "And right now, I'm not sure I want to."
Ria's eyes narrowed, and her tone turned cold. "You know what?" she snapped, her voice low and dangerous, "if it's that ridiculous to you, then just leave."
He stared at her for a moment, his chest heaving with a cocktail of emotions. Marriage? How the fuck did this happen? His mind raced, trying to grasp the absurdity of the situation. This was beyond anything he could have imagined.
Then, without another word, he stormed out.
* * *
Bonded? Married? What kind of ridiculous soap opera did I just stumble into? Mark wondered, his feet hitting the pavement in a rhythm that seemed too mundane for the chaos of his thoughts.
He couldn't deny the intense attraction he felt towards her, the way their bodies had moved together. The memory of her touch, her scent, sent shivers down his spine.
Marriage…. I went from single to married in less time than it takes to order a pizza. And I didn't even get to choose the toppings.
His mind recoiled at the bizarre turn of events. He'd gone from fighting off robbers to being caught in a supernatural marriage trap, all in the span of twenty-four hours.
As he approached his house, he saw Lida on the porch, engrossed in a phone call. She held up a finger, signaling him to wait. Mark stepped into the living room, his thoughts a swirling vortex of disbelief and uncertainty. He sank onto the couch, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the wall, grappling with the reality of his situation.
Lida's voice drifted in from the porch, the snippets of conversation barely registering in his mind. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as he sat there.
He couldn't make sense of what had happened, and he didn't know what to do next.
His mind kept returning to Ria, to their heated argument and her parting words. Bond? Connected? he thought, searching for any sign of a change within himself, any indication of this supposed unbreakable connection. But he felt no different than before, no sudden surge of affection or loyalty.
Just confusion, frustration, and a lingering sense of desire.
Maybe she's wrong, he thought, a flicker of hope igniting within him. Maybe it was just… a really extreme experience, nothing more.
But deep down, a nagging doubt whispered otherwise, reminding him of the undeniable pull he had felt towards Ria. He buried his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the sheer absurdity of it all.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
A gentle hand on his shoulder startled Mark from his spiraling thoughts. He looked up to see Lida standing beside him, her brow furrowed with concern.
"What is it, Mark?" she asked softly, taking a seat beside him. "You seem troubled."
"Li-Lida," he began hesitantly, "do you know anything about… being bonded?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Why the sudden interest?"
Mark struggled to find the words, unsure where to begin. How could he possibly explain the whirlwind of events that had led him to this point, the inexplicable encounter with Ria, and the confusing revelation that followed? He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew would be a difficult conversation.
He recounted the events of the day, starting with the sensory overload in the library, the intoxicating feeling that consumed him. He barely mentioned what happened with Ria glossing over their encounter, their heated argument, and the shocking declaration of their supposed connection.
When he finished, she let out a sigh. "Oh, Mark, so you've found your mate."
"Can we please stop using that term?" He pleaded, feeling a shiver run down his spine. "It's just… weird."
Lida's expression turned serious. "This is very serious, Mark. Bonding is a sacred thing. It's not something to be taken lightly."
"What the hell does it even mean?"
"Throughout history," she began, "there have been tales of individuals drawn together by an unseen force, a connection that transcends reason and logic. They call it 'the bond', a mystical link that binds two souls together, intertwining their destinies regardless of their backgrounds, their desires, their paths in life."
"No one knows for certain why it happens, what sparks this connection. Some believe it's a matter of fate, a predetermined path laid out by the stars. Others speculate it's a way to ensure the survival of certain bloodlines, a way to pass down unique abilities and knowledge."
"But one thing is certain," she continued, her eyes meeting his. "It is powerful, undeniable, and it changes everything."
"So… what?" He scoffed. "People just… bang and then they're magically bound together? Just like that? And they live happily ever after?" He threw his head back and laughed. "How can something so… so arbitrary possibly last?"
"Your parents did."
His laughter died in his throat. "What?"
"Your parents," she repeated gently, "they were bonded too."
What the…. This was news to him.
He thought about how deeply in love they had seemed, always together, always supportive. But then, an intrusive thought crossed his mind—how did they meet if they were bonded? Was it anything like his own experience? He quickly shut down that line of thinking with a grimace, cursing himself silently.
"What happened?"
"Nothing," he mumbled quickly, then pressed. "It's just… you never told me this before."
"It never came up," she replied with a shrug. "But thinking back now, perhaps I should have anticipated something like this happening."
"What do you mean?"
"As I mentioned before, some believe that bonding occurs to ensure the survival of certain bloodlines. It's just a theory, of course, but—"
"But?"
"Your father.... he came from a long line of powerful mages. He was a prodigy himself, with abilities that surpassed even the most seasoned practitioners. And your mother…"
"And my mother?"
She paused, weighing her words carefully. "Your mother… well, let's just say that if the theory about bloodlines holds any weight, then all of this makes sense."
"Are there… instances where such individuals choose not to be together?"
"I've heard of such cases," she admitted, "but they are rare and often fraught with… complications. But, Mark, do you really want to choose that path?"
"I don't know. This is all way too out of my comfort zone."
"I understand your hesitation. This is a lot to process. But you can't simply ignore the bond. It's a part of who you are now."
"But what if I don't want it to be?" Mark countered, his frustration resurfacing. "What if I'm not ready for this?"
"Ready or not, Mark," she said gently but firmly, "the bond is there. And it's not going away. You can choose to fight it, to deny it, but that path will only lead to pain and heartache, for both you and that girl."
"But I don't even know her!" He protested. "We just met! How can I be expected to spend the rest of my life with someone I barely know?"
"It's not about knowing someone, it's about feeling them, about understanding them on a level that transcends words or logic. It's about two souls recognizing each other, finding their missing piece."
"That all sounds very poetic, Lida," he said with a sarcastic edge, "but it doesn't change the fact that this whole thing feels… wrong. Forced. Unnatural."
"Perhaps but it's also a part of who you are. And denying that part of yourself will only lead to more pain in the long run. Besides," she continued, her voice softening, " As I said before, your parents were bonded too. And you know how happy they were."
Mark had no comeback for that. The memory of his parents' love, their unwavering devotion to each other, was like a slap in the face compared to his own confusion and resistance. He felt a headache brewing, a dull throb behind his eyes that matched the chaos swirling inside him.
"Th-This is all too… much," he groaned.
"I understand," Lida said sympathetically. "But even if you can't accept it fully right now, at least try to be open to the possibility. To what this could mean for you. I wouldn't recommend trying to ignore it without even giving it a shot."
Mark fell silent, his mind spiraling down a rabbit hole of what-ifs and maybes. The revelation about his parents, and the sudden appearance of Ria in his life felt like an overwhelming burden.
"What's her name?"
"Uh… Ria," Mark replied, the name feeling both foreign and strangely familiar on his tongue.
"Ria…" she mused, her brow furrowing slightly. "And where is she now?"
"I… I stormed out of her house after we… argued about this whole thing."
"You what?"
"Yeah," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. "She was going on about how we're connected and all that… and it kind of freaked me out."
Lida thwacked the back of his head. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I panicked, okay? It was all just too weird, too sudden. I didn't know what else to do."
She sighed, her expression turning serious once more. "Mark, you need to understand the gravity of this situation. The bond affects men and women differently. It's not just a physical connection, but a deep emotional one. And for women…" she paused, choosing her words carefully, "the effects are even more intense. The pull, the longing, the need to be with their person… it's overwhelming. It's very primal."
"So you're saying she's just as messed up about this as I am?"
"More so," she replied, her voice laced with empathy. "She's probably feeling a range of emotions right now – confusion, hurt, anger, but most of all, a deep longing to be with you. To understand this connection, to explore what it means for both of you."
Mark listened, the depth of her words slowly sinking in, painting a much broader picture of the bond's impact. He rose from the couch and began pacing the room, his frustration evident.
"This is not how I imagined my day going," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"I get why you are panicking. But avoiding this isn't as straightforward as you might hope. Bonding—especially one as strong as yours seems to be—doesn't just dissipate because it's inconvenient."
"So what?" He challenged, his voice rising. "I'm just supposed to accept it? Go along with this… this twisted destiny bullshit?"
"It's not about blind acceptance, Mark. It's about understanding the potential of what you're a part of. The bond can be a powerful force, a source of strength, love, and support. It's not something to be feared or dismissed."
"And what if I decide it's not for me?" He asked, his eyes searching hers.
"Then you deal with it when you're sure," Lida replied, her voice firm yet understanding. "But take the time to fully understand it first. Don't make any rash decisions."
Mark stopped pacing and let out a deep sigh, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. "Alright," he conceded, his voice heavy with resignation.
"But before you do anything else, you need to go talk to that poor girl. And try to make her understand your side of things."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes, you do," she said firmly. "As I explained, women are affected by the bond differently. You have no idea how much this must have impacted her. It's more than just feeling connected; it's feeling complete, feeling as if a part of your very self has been fulfilled. And when that bond is questioned or rejected, it can feel like a rejection of her very soul."
"Shit," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "This is all so messed up."
Lida gave him a sympathetic smile. "I know it's a lot to take in, Mark. But you can't run from this. You and Ria need to talk, figure out what this means for both of you."
"Talking isn't really our strong suit right now. We kinda skipped straight to the… other stuff."
She chuckled. "Well, you're going to have to work on that. Communication is key in any relationship, especially one as intense as a bond."
Mark groaned. "Intense is an understatement. This is like being thrown into the deep end of the pool without knowing how to swim."
"Then it's time to learn, Mark. You can't change what's happened, but you can choose how to move forward. And who knows? Maybe you'll find that this is exactly what you need."
He raised an eyebrow. "Or it could be a complete disaster."
Lida shrugged. "That's a risk you'll have to take. But remember, your parents took that risk, and look how happy they were."
Mark stood there in silence, his mind racing with a million thoughts and questions. He had no clue what to do or how to feel. All he knew was that his life had just taken a dramatic and unexpected turn, and he had no fucking idea where it was going to lead him.
This is insane. I can't just… accept this, can I? He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the unknown. Shit, what do I do?
* * *
His head pounded against the pillow, a relentless beat mirroring the chaotic rhythm of his thoughts. His skin still thrummed with the phantom sensation of her touch. Ria. The name was a foreign object lodged in his throat, scratching against every rational thought that tried to surface. He squeezed his eyes shut, but all that conjured up was the image of her eyes, the wildness in them, the way they'd softened when—
He rolled over, burying his face in the pillow, trying to smother the memory. "This is insane," he muttered into the cotton. Insane, and terrifying, and… God help him, exciting. The way her body had moved beneath his, those frantic, desperate whispers… the way she surrendered. He could still taste the magic on her tongue, like an electric current sparking through his veins.
It was hot, yeah, crazy intense, but now he was supposedly tied to her, like some kind of supernatural ball and chain.
He'd lost control. Given himself over to some unknown, primal urge, and now he was… what? Bound? Married? Whatever the hell Lida called it, the thought was a cold weight settling in his stomach, heavier than any hangover he'd ever experienced.
It didn't make sense.
Then there were his parents. Lida's bombshell about their connection kept replaying in his mind. They were the definition of rock-solid, their love the kind that people talked about. That connection— was that this bonded bullshit? Had his dad felt like this too— confused, conflicted, yet drawn to a woman he barely knew?
His brain felt like it was about to short-circuit. On one hand, logic screamed "Run!" On the other, a weird pull, a sense of inevitability, kept whispering Ria's name. He didn't want to hurt her. But forever, sealed in a single night of insane passion?
He rolled onto his side, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. All he wanted was a rewind button, a way to go back to stressing about exams and trying to score a date for Saturday night. He'd trade this whole supernatural clusterfuck for the simple stress of acing a midterm any day.
Exhaustion eventually claimed him, pulling him down into a restless slumber. But sleep, instead of offering respite, plunged him into a realm of vivid, unsettling dreams.
He was tangled up with Ria again, her scent a mix of jasmine and something crisp, like winter air. Her touch sent a jolt through him, a raw energy that made him want to forget about breathing.
This is messed up, he thought as the dream shifted gears.
I found myself standing in a huge meadow, surrounded by trees that seemed to hum with magic. The air felt alive, buzzing with power. Everything felt impossibly beautiful. Too perfect.
Ria stood beneath one of those crimson trees, her hair glowing like spun gold. A wave of affection, so fierce and pure, washed over me, and in the strange, mutable logic of dreams, it made perfect sense to be here, with her, in this impossible world.
When she reached me, her smile hit me like a shot of sunshine. Her eyes, man, they were brighter than any star I'd ever seen. She took my hand, and her touch was electric, sending a shock straight to my heart.
Without a word, she led me towards a small cottage nestled among the trees. The air smelled like honeysuckle and fresh bread. It was the kind of place that made you believe in happy endings.
Laughter and music spilled out of the open windows as we approached. Ria pushed open the door, and the room inside was bathed in a warm glow. Candles floated in mid-air, their flames dancing, and tapestries covered the walls, depicting couples I didn't recognize.
The place was packed with people, their faces glowing with happiness. Every couple held hands, their auras swirling together like a kaleidoscope. I felt a sense of belonging I'd never experienced before, a deep yearning that resonated in my very soul.
Ria stepped into the center of the room, and she started to dance. It was like she was moving to music only she could hear, her body graceful and fluid. I couldn't take my eyes off her, my heart pounding in my chest.
And then, everything changed. The music stopped, the laughter died down, and the room emptied, leaving me alone with Ria. The warmth drained away, replaced by a bone-chilling cold.
Ria's eyes, once bright with joy, were now filled with sadness. She looked at me with a pain that cut me deep.
I stood frozen, unable to speak, unable to break the spell of her despair. And then, I saw it - a single, scarlet tear rolled down her cheek— not clear liquid, but blood, viscous and vivid. Another followed. Soon a steady stream stained that beautiful face, leaving jagged crimson streaks against her skin.
Smoke started to rise from her skin, and she coughed, a harsh, rasping sound. She swayed on her feet, her knees buckling. I rushed to her side, catching her before she hit the ground. I held her close, my heart pounding with a fear I couldn't explain.
I tried to wipe the blood away, but it was no use. It was like her life force was pouring out of her, and I was powerless to stop it. Panic clawed at me, a desperate need to save her.
A faint smile touched her lips as she gently caressed my cheek. She said something that I did not understand. But her words, they held a sadness to them.
Ria's form shimmered, fading from my grasp, her touch lingering like a whisper of frost on my skin. Her smile remained. The pain, the guilt, the sheer agonizing loss - it consumed me, leaving me hollowed out and broken.
My heart ached as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand. The pain was almost physical. I felt a lump form in my throat, a heaviness that I couldn't swallow away. The thought of causing her such sorrow, of being the reason behind those pleading eyes, was unbearable.
Mark woke up gasping for air, his sheets soaked with sweat. The dream was so real, so visceral, it clung to him like a second skin. He could still feel her touch, the sting of that icy energy, and the suffocating fear that had choked him in his sleep. A wave of nausea washed over him, a physical manifestation of the fear still clinging to him.
What the fuck…
He was no stranger to nightmares but this was different.
The clock's red numerals mocked him: 2:12 am. Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed. A splash of cold water in the face did little to erase the lingering chill of the nightmare. He stared at the bloodshot reflection staring back. That bleak, terrified expression was the closest he'd come to seeing what Ria had looked like in the dream.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
No magical answer presented itself. The guy in the mirror, with his tousled hair and haunted eyes, was as lost as he felt.
Lacking any better plan, he pulled on his running gear, grabbed his keys, and tiptoed down the stairs, careful not to wake Lida. The cool night air hit him like a slap, a welcome jolt compared to the suffocating heat of his dreams.
He started with a slow jog, his movements controlled and rhythmic. Past darkened houses, under the watchful gaze of streetlights, he built up his momentum, pushing past the initial tightness in his legs, the familiar burn in his lungs.
As he picked up his pace, moving through the deserted streets, he felt a familiar sense of release. Mark loved running at night. The solitude, the absence of prying eyes, the rhythmic pounding of his feet on the pavement - it always calmed the chaos in his mind.
No curious neighbors, no classmates, no reminders of the tangled mess his life had become. He passed a couple of cop cars, their red and blue lights flashing in the darkness.
But the emptiness of those streets didn't offer the solace he craved. His skin thrummed with restless energy, his thoughts twisting back to that scarlet tear, to the fear in Ria's eyes, to the cold, empty space within those impossible smiles of the dream-couples. His heart pounded a war drum in his chest, echoing the urgency he couldn't ignore.
He channeled a sliver of magic into his legs, feeling a surge of power that propelled him forward with effortless speed. His strides lengthened, his pace quickening, the world around him blurring into a kaleidoscope of streetlights and shadows.
Mark ran until his legs screamed for mercy, his lungs burning with exertion. Finally, he slowed to a stop, hands on his hips, gulping in huge breaths of air. Sweat plastered his shirt to his back, the cool night breeze sending a shiver down his spine. He bent over, catching his breath, feeling the world tilt back into focus.
The neighborhood was a mix of worn-down charm and forgotten grit. Houses, once proud, now wore peeling paint and sagging porches. Lawns, some manicured, others overgrown with weeds, spoke of the varying fortunes of its residents. The house next door to where he stopped was a prime example - windows boarded up, lawn a tangled mess of weeds and discarded beer bottles, a sign to better days long gone.
Further down the road, past a row of tired-looking storefronts with faded "For Lease" signs, a couple of hulking warehouses loomed in the darkness. Their grimy brick facades and rusting metal doors spoke of a bygone era of industry, a time when this neighborhood bustled with activity.
Mark had been here before, drawn to its desolation, its anonymity. It was the perfect place to train.
The moon, a silver disk in the velvet sky, cast long shadows as he approached the empty concrete lot of the abandoned industrial park. He glanced back towards the houses, making sure no one was watching, then lengthened his stride, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
After couple of minute, he reaches one of old structures. Weathered brick and panels of rusted metal, looms under the weight of time.
The rusted hinges of the warehouse door shrieked in protest as he shoved it open, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. The interior was a graveyard of forgotten industry.
Twisted metal skeletons of machinery lay scattered across the dusty concrete floor, their surfaces coated in a thick grime of oil and rust. Discarded tires were piled in a corner, their rubber cracked and faded. A faint scent of mildew hung in the air, mingling with the pungent aroma of motor oil and decaying wood.
He began with a series of rapid-fire punches aimed at a dented metal drum, channeling his energy into his fists, feeling the satisfying thud of metal on metal.
The air crackled with a faint electrical hum.
Mark lost himself in the rhythm of his training, the familiar routine both grounding and exhilarating. He pushed his body further with each repetition. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, the muscles in his arms burning with exertion.
Focus. Just focus on this. One punch at a time. The physical intensity was a welcome distraction from the chaos in his mind.
Then, a noise pierced the stillness – a muffled shout, followed by a cry. Mark froze, his head snapping up, senses on high alert. He listened intently, hoping it wasn't the police or some overly-zealous security guard.
The sounds were coming from the warehouse directly across the street, its windows dark and lifeless. After a moment's consideration, he crossed the street, his footsteps silent on the cracked asphalt.
Peering through a gap in the boarded-up window, Mark saw a group of men huddled around a woman, their flashlights illuminating her knocked out face.
Shit.
Pulling out his phone, he quickly dialed 911. As the operator answered, he strained to hear the conversation taking place inside.
"Come on, guys, nobody's gonna know," a gruff voice urged. "We went through a lot of trouble to catch this little sneak. Might as well enjoy the prize."
"She's fucking hot," another voice chimed in.
One of the men seemed hesitant, but the others quickly silenced him, their voices a chorus of eager agreement.
Mark sighed, his shoulders slumping. Great, just what I need.
Lida's usual warnings echoed in his mind. He could practically hear her disappointed sigh— Stay out of it, Mark. Don't make yourself a target.
Well, here goes another lecture, he mused, a wry smile touching his lips.