The days blurred together in a haze of darkness and silence. Eden's cell, though cold and unforgiving, was the only place he knew now. The outside world, the life he had briefly dreamed of, felt like a distant, impossible memory.
His blindness had always been a part of him—an inescapable reality. But now, more than ever, it felt like a curse. He couldn't see the walls around him. He couldn't see the door that trapped him. He couldn't see the man who haunted his every waking thought.
Darian.
The Prince. His captor.
But there was more to it, wasn't there? More than just the man who had taken him. The one who controlled him. Eden hated him, but the strange pull—the undeniable force that made his pulse race every time the door opened, every time Darian's presence filled the room—was growing harder to deny.
Each night, he'd lay on the stone floor, listening to the distant sounds of the castle, his mind racing, his heart heavy. He couldn't understand it. The rage inside him mixed with the strange ache in his chest whenever Darian's name crossed his mind.
He was losing control.
The soft click of the door opening startled Eden from his thoughts, and his heart lurched in his chest. His breath caught, his fingers curling into fists, and he instinctively recoiled, though he knew it was pointless.
The voice that followed was like a dark lullaby—calm, steady, but with an edge that still made Eden's skin crawl.
"Eden," Darian called softly, his voice echoing in the stone walls, sending a shiver down Eden's spine. "I see you've been keeping yourself entertained."
Eden remained silent, his back to the door. He could feel Darian's gaze on him, even without seeing it. His presence filled the space, pressing down on Eden like a suffocating weight. There was no escaping it. Not anymore.
"Do you know how much I hate it when you won't even look at me?" Darian's voice took on a sharper edge. "It's almost as if you're trying to push me away."
Eden felt his throat tighten. "I don't need you to look at me, Darian," he whispered, though his voice trembled with a vulnerability he couldn't hide. "I don't need anything from you."
Darian's boots echoed across the stone floor as he approached. Eden could feel the air shift with every step. He didn't want to acknowledge it, but his pulse quickened. His breath came faster, each heartbeat growing louder.
"But you do, Eden," Darian said, crouching beside him. Eden's body tensed, but he didn't move away. "You do need me."
Darian's hand slid under Eden's chin, lifting it gently, almost tenderly, as though he could make the omega face him, even though he had no sight. His thumb brushed lightly against Eden's lips.
"You can't escape me," Darian continued, his voice low and intimate. "No matter how much you try, Eden. You were always meant to be mine."
Eden wanted to pull away, to scream, to fight—but he didn't. Something held him in place. He couldn't explain it. Maybe it was the way Darian's voice seemed to seep into his skin, sinking under his defences, or maybe it was something deeper—something primal.
Darian's touch lingered a moment longer before he pulled away. Eden let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"I didn't bring you here just to talk," Darian said softly. His voice lowered, darkening as he leaned in closer, so close Eden could feel the heat of his breath against his skin. "You belong to me now, Eden."
The words hit Eden like a wave, crashing over him, pulling him under. The weight of them, the truth he couldn't escape, sent a cold shiver through his bones. But instead of the resistance he had always known, Eden felt his breath catch, his body betraying him.
Darian had always been in control, but now, as his fingers traced Eden's jaw again, the touch far more intimate, far more consuming, Eden could feel something shifting inside him—something that frightened him.
Darian's hand found its way to the back of his neck again, his fingers splayed out, holding him captive with a single touch. Eden couldn't breathe.
"You want me, Eden," Darian whispered. His lips brushed the side of Eden's face, so close that it was as if he were speaking directly into his soul. "I know you do. And I will have you."
The words were like a brand, searing into his mind. He wanted to resist, but something deep within him, something he couldn't control, made his body ache. His thoughts scattered, and in the thick silence of the room, all he could hear was his own breathing and the sound of Darian's heartbeat, pounding as loudly as his own.
"Stop…" Eden whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion, with something else—something that made his chest ache. "I hate you..."
Darian chuckled darkly. "No, you don't," he murmured. "You're only fooling yourself."
Eden felt a strange warmth rush to his face, his skin flushing even though he couldn't see the Prince's gaze. He had to fight it. He had to push away the feelings that Darian stirred within him.
But the more he tried to fight, the more it felt like he was drowning.
"I will have you," Darian repeated, his voice deep and firm. "And when you finally give in, you'll understand why it had to be this way."
Eden's throat tightened, and he didn't know whether to cry, to scream, or to beg for release. He wanted to escape, to run, to break free—but every time he tried, the chains seemed to grow tighter. They weren't visible. They weren't physical. But they were real.
And they were binding him.