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CHAPTER SIX
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2025-04-25 04:22:26CHAPTER SIX
Talia Something was wrong with her. Talia stood at the mirror, hands pressed against the cool edge of her bathroom sink, studying her reflection like it held answers. She didn’t recognize the person staring back—not completely. Her eyes were tired. Not from lack of sleep, but from the weight of confusion. Restless nights. Dreams that clung to her skin like silk threads, impossible to shake. She saw him again last night. Ronan. Not just in the usual fleeting way—this dream had been different. His hands were on her waist. His mouth near her throat. The air between them so thick with need she could barely breathe. She could still hear the rasp of his voice, the way it curled around her name like a promise and a warning all at once. It had felt… real. Too real. She touched her neck. No marks, of course. No logical reason to believe anything she saw in those half-lit moments was anything more than a dream. But her body didn’t care about logic. It remembered. Worse, it craved. And she hated it. She didn’t even know him. Talia yanked open the bathroom cabinet, pulling out a bottle of calming oil and rubbing it on her wrists. It had always worked before—easing stress, keeping her grounded. But today, the scent did nothing to dull the nerves crawling up her spine. Something primal had been awakened inside her, and the usual coping mechanisms were useless against it. She needed distraction. Her phone buzzed. Amara: You alive? Book club brunch in 30. Don’t flake, nerd. Talia exhaled. Amara always knew when to drag her out of the fog. Her best friend since college, Amara was the only person who saw through her quietness, her walls. She never pried—but she always showed up. The kind of friend who knew when silence meant comfort, and when it meant danger. Talia texted back: I’ll be there. The café was already buzzing when she arrived. Puya Ridge wasn’t a big town, but the weekend crowd turned the quaint main street into a hub of warm voices and clinking mugs. The scent of fresh pastries and roasted coffee beans helped soothe her frayed nerves as she walked in. Amara waved her over from the corner booth, a stack of paperbacks between them like a protective barricade. “You look like a woman who’s been living in a gothic novel,” Amara said, sliding a latte toward her. “I feel like it.” Talia offered a weak smile, sinking into the seat. “Have you ever had a dream so vivid it felt like it was… trying to tell you something?” Amara arched a brow. “Every time I read Sarah J. Maas. What kind of dream are we talking?” Talia hesitated. She hadn’t told Amara about Ronan. Not really. Just that she kept seeing the same man in her dreams. Mysterious. Tall. Dangerous. Gorgeous in a way that hurt to look at. The kind of presence that made her entire reality feel unstable. Amara leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Was he hot?” Talia blinked. “Excuse me?” “Your dream man. You’re clearly in distress. So obviously, he was hot.” Talia tried not to laugh, but the sound escaped anyway. “He’s… unsettling.” “Unsettling-hot. The best kind.” Talia sobered. “It’s not funny. I saw him in real life. Outside the bookstore. Just for a second. And I think he saw me too.” Amara’s smile faded. “Wait, hold up. You’ve never met him, but you’re dreaming about him, and now you’re seeing him?” “I don’t know how to explain it.” “You need sage and a priest.” Talia took a long sip of her latte. “I went to the archives.” “Of course you did.” “I found a book. About local legends. There’s this section on bonded souls. Mates. Curses. It sounds insane, but…” “But it doesn’t feel insane to you.” Talia met her friend’s gaze. “No.” Amara reached across the table, her expression shifting from amused to serious. “Okay. I believe you. So what now?” Talia shook her head. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m being watched. Like I’ve stepped into something I wasn’t supposed to see.” They sat in silence for a moment, the chatter around them distant. The hum of conversation felt too loud, like it didn’t belong to the same world she was now walking through. Then Amara said, “We’ll figure it out. Together.” Later that evening, Talia couldn’t stop replaying the moment she saw him. She’d felt it first. That electric buzz of awareness that had no name. And when she looked up, she knew. He was there. She’d only caught a glimpse—dark clothes, sharp posture, that piercing gaze. And just like that, he was gone. But something lingered. Like he’d left part of himself behind, embedded in the atmosphere around her. As they left the café, Amara slowed beside her. “That guy across the street… did you see him?” Talia turned. “What guy?” “There was someone watching. Tall, dark suit. Looked like he belonged in a noir film. He was there one second, then gone.” Talia’s heart stuttered. “You sure it wasn’t just someone passing through?” Amara shook her head. “No. He was staring right at you.” Talia didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Was it possible Ronan had followed her here? She wandered into her bedroom that night, pulling the heavy curtain back. The night pressed in close, stars smeared across the sky. Every shadow outside seemed to hold breath, every breeze a whisper that slid across her skin like a touch. Somewhere out there, he existed. She didn’t know who he was. Or what he wanted. But deep down, she felt the truth. He wasn’t a stranger. He was waiting. And soon, she’d have to decide whether to run—or step into the fire. --- Welcome to BOUND TO YOU! Hi readers, Thank you so much for choosing to read BOUND TO YOU here on Goodnovel! I’m beyond excited to be sharing this story with you on this platform, and I can’t wait for you to fall into Talia and Ronan’s world—a journey filled with slow-burning tension, fate, and the kind of love that defies even the darkest curses. This story means so much to me, and having it here on Goodnovel is a huge milestone in my writing journey. I’m truly grateful for every read, comment, and interaction. Your support keeps me inspired and helps bring these characters to life more than you know. So buckle in—because the ride is only just beginning. With all my love, Elle Targaryen.
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