The night was thick with silence, broken only by the restless howl of the wind. The ruins stood like skeletons against the silver wash of moonlight, their broken stones glinting faintly, as if hiding secrets long buried. Arjun sat on the edge of the cold stone bench, every nerve in his body alive, his breath uneven.
The mark on his wrist pulsed again—hotter, stronger—as though it recognized someone's presence before he did. And then, he felt it. The warmth. That impossible, dangerous warmth that made his heartbeat accelerate in ways he could neither control nor deny.
He didn't need to turn around. He already knew.
The man was here.
"Still awake?" The voice came, smooth as velvet, carrying that mocking undertone that always made Arjun's chest tighten. It was calm, but laced with something wild beneath—like a predator circling prey but in no rush to strike.
Arjun clenched his fists. "You shouldn't be here." His words were sharp, yet his tone trembled.
Footsteps echoed softly on the stone floor, slow, deliberate. Each one made Arjun's body grow hotter, as though the very air bent around that presence. When the man finally emerged into the moonlight, Arjun caught his breath.
Tall, broad-shouldered, his silhouette was cut sharply against the pale glow. His eyes, glowing faintly crimson, locked onto Arjun's with an intensity that stripped away his defenses. A smirk curved his lips, one that carried danger and allure in equal measure.
"You say that every time," he said, voice low, teasing. "Yet here I am. And…" He leaned slightly forward, his gaze slipping to Arjun's lips before returning to his eyes. "…here you are. Waiting."
Arjun shot up from the bench, trying to create space, but his legs betrayed him—they didn't carry him away. Instead, he froze, heart pounding.
"I wasn't waiting," he snapped, though even to his own ears, the denial sounded weak.
The man closed the distance with ease, the faint scent of smoke and steel surrounding him. "Then why is your pulse racing?" he whispered, tilting his head, his voice brushing against Arjun's skin more than his words. "Why does your mark burn whenever I'm near?"
Arjun's breath caught as a warm hand grazed his wrist. The moment their skin connected, the mark flared with crimson light, threads of energy sparking between them. It was as if the universe itself refused to let them stay apart.
Arjun yanked his hand back, panic rising in his chest. "You're dangerous. I don't want this."
The man laughed softly, stepping even closer until their bodies were almost touching. His heat was suffocating, yet addictive. "You don't want this?" he asked, brushing his fingers against Arjun's jaw, tilting his face upward. "Or you can't admit that you do?"
Arjun's breath came faster. The air between them thickened with tension so palpable it felt alive. His instincts screamed to push away, but his body leaned forward, betraying him.
"You'll destroy me," Arjun whispered, voice barely audible.
The man's expression softened, though his eyes still glowed with desire. His lips hovered near Arjun's ear, his whisper hot enough to make Arjun shiver. "Or I'll set you free."
The words unraveled something inside him. Without realizing it, Arjun's fingers gripped the man's shirt, pulling him closer. And then, the world collapsed into fire.
Their lips met—hard, desperate, consuming. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was hunger, heat, an eruption of everything they had denied for too long. Arjun gasped against his mouth, the taste of him burning on his tongue. The man's grip tightened around his waist, pulling him flush against his body, as if even the smallest gap was unbearable.
The ruins around them seemed to fade. The storm outside howled louder, lightning flashing, thunder rolling as though nature itself was reacting to their union.
Arjun broke the kiss, panting, his forehead pressed against the man's chest. "This is wrong," he whispered, his voice trembling with conflict.
"Wrong?" The man tilted his chin upward, forcing Arjun to look at him. His eyes were fire—dangerous, magnetic. "No, Arjun. This is inevitable."
Their foreheads touched, breaths mingling. Arjun wanted to deny it, to escape, but his body betrayed him again, refusing to pull away. The warmth of the man's touch seeped deeper, reaching places Arjun had kept locked away for years.
"You scare me," Arjun admitted, his voice barely audible.
"And yet," the man murmured, lips brushing against Arjun's ear, "you keep coming closer."
The heat in his words, the certainty, the unshakable pull—it was too much. Arjun's lips found his again, this time slower but deeper, filled with longing and surrender. His fingers slid into the man's hair, clutching, desperate, as though he might drown without him.
The man groaned softly against his mouth, his hand tracing the curve of Arjun's spine, sending shivers down every nerve. It was intoxicating—like being consumed by fire and not wanting escape.
When they finally pulled apart, gasping for breath, the man whispered against his lips, "You're mine, Arjun. Whether you fight it or not, the flame has already chosen."
Arjun's chest rose and fell rapidly. His heart screamed denial, but his soul… his soul whispered the truth. The flame had chosen.
The night grew heavier. The ruins glowed faintly with the residual sparks of their bond, crimson threads still flickering between their marks. Outside, the storm raged on. Inside, two hearts burned hotter than fire itself.
Arjun knew this was only the beginning...