Sleep had never been a gentle friend to Lila, but the night after the gathering, it became a battlefield. Her mind churned with fragments of Dorian—his piercing gaze, the heat of his touch, the low, velvet promise that had wrapped itself around her heart with a grip she couldn't escape. Her body remembered what her mind tried to deny, replaying every second with a vividness that left her gasping awake.
She woke in a cold sweat, sheets tangled around her like the remnants of some fevered dream. The moonlight filtered through her curtains, casting pale silver across her room. Even in the stillness of her apartment, she could feel it—the pull. The bond. A low hum of energy that seemed to echo inside her chest, growing stronger, insistent, almost tangible. It wasn't just a memory. It was alive, coiling around her heartbeat, tugging, demanding.
Lila sat on the edge of the bed, her hands pressed to her temples, trying to slow her pulse. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts. "This... can't be real," she whispered to herself, though the truth of it made her shiver.
But it was real.
She could feel him even now, miles away—or perhaps just beyond perception. A whisper of heat, a brush of presence, a shadow of thought threading through her consciousness. The bond wasn't subtle. It was possessive, claiming her in ways she hadn't understood, stirring both fear and desire.
Lila closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe, but the second she relaxed, the bond surged, almost like a voice inside her chest. Find me. Need me. Don't resist.
Her eyes snapped open, wide and panicked. She didn't know how to fight it, and yet she felt the tug in her gut, in her blood, in the very marrow of her bones. The intensity was terrifying, intoxicating, and overwhelming all at once. She had to get out. She had to move.
Shoving on a robe over her pajamas, she slipped into the cool night, her bare feet silent against the apartment floor. The city around her was quiet, almost too quiet, but she didn't notice. The pull had grown stronger, as if urging her forward, leading her somewhere she couldn't name but somehow knew.
Every instinct screamed to turn back, to resist, to run. And yet she moved forward. Compelled. Magnetic.
The next day, normal life tried to assert itself. Lila went to work, answering emails, chatting with coworkers, and pretending she wasn't unraveling inside. But the bond was patient and insistent, tugging at her awareness like an invisible leash. Every time she closed her eyes or drifted into thought, he appeared. Not physically, not entirely—but as if her mind had been invaded by his presence: a dark shadow, a warmth, a hunger.
It wasn't hallucination. She tried to rationalize it—stress, exhaustion, imagination—but even as she told herself that, her body betrayed her. Her pulse fluttered at the memory of his hand brushing hers. Her stomach knotted when she thought of his smirk, the low rumble in his voice, the way his eyes seemed to read her soul.
And then came the first signs she hadn't expected.
She was walking through the park on her lunch break, trying to clear her head, when she felt it—an involuntary surge of heat along her spine, a tightening in her chest. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and though she saw nothing, the bond hummed like a live wire. Possessive. Watching. Waiting.
And then she heard it—or rather, she felt it: a low, unspoken warning. They are near. Do not let anyone else claim her.
Her heart lurched. Who? What? She turned sharply, half-expecting to see Dorian materialize from the shadows. Nothing. Just the ordinary city, the ordinary people, the ordinary lives... and yet, she knew it wasn't ordinary anymore. The pull was real. And it was growing stronger.
That night, sleep came again—but differently.
Her dreams were vivid, almost overwhelming. She found herself in a forest, twilight shadows stretching endlessly. Moonlight spilled over everything, silver and haunting. And there he was, waiting at the edge of a clearing. Dorian.
His gaze found hers instantly. And she felt the bond thrum, quickening her heartbeat until it felt like her chest might shatter.
"You can't hide from it," he murmured, voice low, velvety, sending shivers crawling over her skin. "The bond... it binds us. It's not meant to be ignored."
"I don't understand," she whispered, taking a tentative step toward him. "I... I don't know what this is. Why I feel... like this."
He took a step closer, and the air around her seemed to pulse with heat. "It's desire. Fear. Possession. All of it. But it's also something darker, something deeper. Something... inevitable."
Her stomach fluttered, torn between fear and something she didn't want to name. She wanted to flee. And yet she moved closer. Every instinct screamed at her to resist, to fight, to run from the pull. But she couldn't.
"Why do I feel it?" she asked, her voice trembling, almost breaking. "Why do I... need you?"
Dorian's expression softened for the briefest moment, and it almost hurt her more than his intensity. "Because the bond doesn't lie, Lila. It doesn't obey rules. It doesn't care for logic. It demands. It claims. And right now... it claims you."
The words ignited something inside her, a combination of terror and desire that left her breathless. She stumbled back slightly, the dream-shadows pressing in around her, yet she felt him even as she tried to push him away. He was inside her. Around her. With her.
"Even if it's wrong?" she asked, voice barely a whisper.
His gaze darkened, almost dangerous, almost predatory. "Especially if it's wrong," he said. "Because wrong is intoxicating. Wrong is irresistible. And... right or wrong... you are mine."
Her breath hitched. Her body responded despite her mind, and she felt a heat curling low in her belly that made her knees weak. Fear and longing collided violently, leaving her dizzy. She wanted to fight, to scream, to resist. And yet, she wanted him.
The forest around them seemed to vanish, leaving just the two of them in an endless twilight. She could feel his heartbeat echoing in her chest, a perfect, impossible rhythm that mirrored her own. The bond was no longer subtle. It demanded attention, dominance, and surrender. And she wasn't sure she could—or wanted to—resist.
Then, just as suddenly as he appeared, he was gone. The clearing was empty. The forest was still. And she woke with a start in her bed, sheets tangled and damp with sweat, heart hammering like a drum in her chest.
The days that followed were a torment of anticipation and confusion.
Everywhere she went, every movement she made, the bond tugged at her. A brush of wind across her skin was like a whisper from him. A flicker of shadow in her peripheral vision made her pulse spike. She felt him in every thought, every fleeting heartbeat, every sigh she tried to stifle.
Her emotions became a battlefield. Desire warred with fear. Longing clashed with rationality. She found herself watching the world for glimpses of him, imagining him standing just beyond her perception, and even when she told herself it was impossible, her body betrayed her again and again.
At work, she nearly lost her composure more than once. Every time she closed her eyes, every time she lingered on thoughts of Dorian, she felt the bond tighten, a possessive, urgent force that demanded attention. And she hated how much she craved it.
Because it was wrong.
It had to be. And yet, she couldn't resist.
One evening, unable to bear it any longer, she wandered the streets near the city's outskirts, chasing the invisible pull. The night was alive with possibility, electric with expectation. And then she felt it—stronger than ever—a presence, unmistakable and undeniable.
She followed the sensation into an abandoned courtyard bathed in silver moonlight, heart racing, pulse hammering. And there he was.
Dorian. Leaning against a crumbling wall, arms crossed, eyes fixed on her with that same intensity, that same dangerous magnetism that made her shiver.
"You came," he said simply. No accusation, no question. Just a statement.
"I... I had to," she admitted, voice trembling. "I don't understand this... this pull. It's... too strong."
He pushed off the wall, moving toward her with a predator's grace. "It's meant to be," he said. "But that doesn't mean it's safe. That doesn't mean it's right. And yet, here you are. Drawn. As I am."
Every word wrapped around her like silk and steel. Every movement, every glance, every subtle shift in his expression drew her closer. And she felt it, deep and undeniable—the bond thrumming between them, claiming her in ways she hadn't imagined possible.
Fear and desire collided inside her, leaving her breathless and trembling. She knew, somewhere deep down, that this was only the beginning. The pull of the wrong bond had begun—and she wasn't sure she wanted it to end.