Craig halted with his steps and stared at her face. His eyes squinting while his gaze fixed on her lips. Rachel got conscious a little bit and averted her eyes on him. “Anyways, did you use some lip plumper on?” He voiced out his perplexity, still looking at her lips with befuddlement. “What’s a lip plumper...?” Rachel didn’t get it at first. She touches her lips and then realizes what he is talking about. Her cheeks are even more flushed as she recalls the events that led up to it all, “Oh, that’s right. Yes. Curiosity got the better of me, so I tried some on.” She quickly reasoned out, urging her feet to continue walking, and dipped her head, making her hair blocks the view of her flushed face. ‘Damn that wolf!’ She internally muttered, cursing on Dylan’s name for doing it to her. “It suits you, but your natural lips look better,” Craig commented, matching up with her steps and sweeping her hair off her face, and tucking it behind her ears. “Do you ever run out of complim
Rachel blinked, averting her gaze away from her, and pretended as if she didn’t see what she did, then putting on an innocent expression, asking the woman, “What is it, ma’am?” “I want you to clear my table when I get out.” She replied, taking the table napkin and putting it in her lap graciously. Rachel knows why she wants her to clean her table. She deliberately put the money under the plate for her to take it undetected. She chewed her lower lip as she pondered for a moment. She remembered what Martin had said to her about morals and a code of conduct during the decorum, and that he had specifically instructed her not to accept tips from customers. If she is ever caught, it will put her job in jeopardy, and her track record will not be as clean as she would have liked it to be. “Ma’am...” She was about to decline, gripping the metal tray she held tightly, but the woman held up her index finger, cutting her off. “Now, young lady, please understand that I am insistent.” “A
The exhausting day went through. From the opening shift, Martin asked Rachel to extend and take overtime, both Craig and her. She couldn't say no since she would receive night differentials to compensate for it, even though she was already exhausted from running back and forth to the kitchen and bringing the customers' orders to their table. She thought she could go home early and reminded herself to buy a padlock to replace the broken one using the tip given to her. Unfortunately, Martin called for her last minute when she was about to punch out in her daily time record. After Helen finished with her orders, Rachel made sure that she would be the one to clean up her table. Though she hasn't expected that she will give her a hundred-dollar tip. She kept her surprised expression to herself and pretended that she was wiping the crumbs off the table. She cupped her hand at the edge of the table and swept the rag across the table before taking the money and slipping it between her fing
Alerted by her scream, Craig turns around. His face turned from worry to annoyance when he saw the man standing behind her. A pair of large hands clamped down on her shoulders. He rubs the side of her neck with his thumbs slowly, raising the tiny hairs on her body and releasing the countless butterflies that have taken up residence on her lower belly. A sharp intake and exhales of hot breath breathe blowing at the top of her head. Dissipating the rush of cold air around them and the palpable burgeoning tension thickens the atmosphere. “Move away from her,” Craig demanded. His brows knitted closer to each other as he stepped forward. Challenging the other man with his stare. “What did I tell you, boy? Didn’t I clearly say to stay away from her?” Rachel’s back vibrated with his dangerous voice, threatening. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at Craig with a terrified expression. Not for herself but of what might he do to him. “Craig, please, go.” She uttered, her voice a
However, as much as how many times she denies it. She definitely felt the pull he was so adamant about, and there’s no way that could ignore it. She “Rachie?” Dylan’s voice broke her out of trance. She blinked at him three times and pulled her hands away from him as if his touch was burning her. “I can manage to go on by myself.” She declared defiantly, her chin jutted in the air and her head tilted to one side to hide the spreading shade of pink on her cheeks. Rachel just hoped that there wasn’t enough light for him to see her face flushed. “Don't be ridiculous.” Dylan snickered, his brows furrowed in disapproval with her statement, “It’s dangerous for you to walk alone.” “I wouldn’t have to walk on my own if you didn’t threaten Craig.” She countered, her arms akimbo to her waist, and bit the inner side of her cheeks to keep herself from ogling over him. Like, how can she not? He’s damn hot with his baby blue polo with three of his buttons undone, teasing her with th
Rachel watches Dylan standing in faze outside his car, head lifted upwards. Her hand caressed over the flower petals wrapped with fancy paper and ribbon. She fought the smile that was threatening to spread it on her lips, and moved her gaze down to the flower arrangement she was cradling on her lap. It was beautiful. Dylan’s crestfallen reaction over what she said being an asshole was priceless. She could sit and watch it for the rest of the night. The way his mouth gaped astonishingly wide in response to her remarks, and the way his piercing glare penetrated beyond his car's window, was hilarious. After seeing that Dylan had already recovered from a daze, Rachel straightened her back on the passenger’s seat, clearing her face from any emotion and closed her eyes, and leaned on the window, pretending asleep as Dylan pulled the car door open. The car dipped a little as he climbed onto his seat, followed by a soft thud reverberating between them as he closed the door shut and fu
Caught by surprise, Rachel dropped the bouquet from her hands as Dylan wrapped his around her body as he pressed his back on the door, listening to anything strange, and readied himself if someone would suddenly come and attack them. Rachel tries to pull away from him and take his hands off from covering her mouth, glaring at him with confusion. “What...” “Keep your tone down.” Dylan silences her off. He could sense her fear began to emanate from her. Dylan could feel the loud pounding of her heart against his body. “What happened? Is something wrong?” She murmured ina very low tone, almost inaudible to his ears, complying with what he just instructed. He didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head closer to the door, pressing his ear on the hard surface. Waiting for the ominous feeling inside him to abate until it was finally gone. His wolf huffed, confirming that the presence was no longer there. Dylan let out a long sigh, shaking the feeling of foreboding away.
Realizing that he had stocked groceries for her, Dylan went to open the fridge, his thumb and index finger pinching his chin as he scanned its content and deliberated what he would have for a meal and cook for something for Rachel as well. That woman might be hungry as a pen-up lioness who hadn’t eaten for days. He saw her cook steak the other night and ate it with gusto. Dylan contemplated for a bit, reminiscing the aroma of the delicacy wafting in the air. He wasn’t a chef, but he could cook. He didn’t just live for hundreds of years for nothing. Knowing precisely what he needed to do, Dylan pulled out the ingredients of the meal he decided to cook and began preparing them. Not wanting to soil his shirt, he took it off and hung it on the rack, taking the black and yellow apron with cartoon characters printed on it in exchange and laced them on himself. He worked around her kitchen effectively, guaranteeing he hadn't left whatever would make the spot look grimy. Might as well
The storm rolled in without warning.By morning, the Bunga skyline was hidden behind sheets of rain and fog. Clouds hung low and thick, choking the sun into a dull gray smear. Rachel stood at the center of Nyra’s ritual chamber, dressed in black training gear, bare feet planted on cool stone. Her eyes remained closed, her breathing calm, but the storm outside mirrored the chaos pressing against the edges of her mind.The First Flame’s final words echoed louder each day.*“Elira was the second.”*There had been another.A predecessor. A first.And Rachel knew one thing: if that woman’s existence had been buried, it wasn’t by accident.Nyra lit the final rune candle, her lips moving in a low chant. Stacy stood at the door, arms folded, not interrupting but not relaxing either. Dylan leaned against the wall, bruised and silent. Since Ashvale, his mood had shifted—protective, but distant, as if he was bracing for something they couldn’t name yet.Rachel opened her eyes.“I’m ready.”Nyra
The journey back to Bunga was quiet.Too quiet.Rachel sat in the back of the armored vehicle, her hand pressed to Dylan’s chest, steadying the healing pulse Nyra had cast over his heart. He hadn’t woken. His skin had warmed slightly, but his breathing remained shallow. She counted every breath like it was a countdown—one she couldn’t afford to lose.Stacy sat across from them, bruised and scraped but alert, her gaze locked on Dylan’s unconscious face. She hadn’t spoken since they left the ruins. Rachel knew why.They’d seen something ancient.Something wrong.And it was awake now.Nyra sat by the rear door, muttering incantations under her breath, casting protective wards over the vehicle as it rolled down the cracked mountain road. Each spell flickered like a shield, a desperate buffer against whatever might still be watching them from the trees.“She took the name ‘The First Flame,’” Rachel said softly, breaking the silence.Stacy looked up. “Do you know who she is?”“Not exactly.
Rachel didn’t sleep that night. Again.The Council’s eyes had followed her out of the stone chamber with suspicion half-tamed and fear barely concealed. Though they hadn’t imprisoned her—or worse—they hadn’t accepted her, either. She wasn’t a threat, not yet, but she wasn’t an ally, and she could feel it in the silence they left behind. A silence that made the back of her neck itch.Now, hours later, she sat by the window of Dylan’s bedroom, curled up in a chair with her legs pulled to her chest, watching the first blush of morning bleed across the skyline. Another sleepless night. Another weight she couldn’t name pressing into her chest.“You ever going to tell me what they really said in there?”Dylan’s voice came from the bed. He hadn’t turned the light on. He didn’t need to.Rachel didn’t turn around. “You already know.”“They think you’re a coin toss.”She nodded. “And they want to know which side I’ll land on when things break.”Dylan stood and crossed the room. He knelt in fron
Rachel stood before the floor-length mirror in her bedroom, staring at her reflection—not for vanity, but to make sure she still recognized the face staring back. Her eyes no longer flashed silver. Her aura no longer surged uncontrollably. The storm within had stilled, but that quiet carried its own kind of warning.She pressed a palm to her chest. The bond that once strained her soul felt like a scar now—healed but never forgotten. She wasn’t Elira. But Elira was now, undeniably, a part of her.A soft knock on the door broke the silence.“It’s open,” she called.Stacy entered, holding a tray with toast and Nyra’s herbal tea. “If you skip another meal, Dylan’s gonna drag you to the kitchen himself.”Rachel gave a soft smile. “Thanks.”Stacy set the tray down and sat on the edge of the bed. “So… you really feel normal again?”Rachel paused. “I feel different. But not unstable.”Stacy studied her carefully. “What does that mean?”“It means I feel like me. Just... upgraded.” She gave a s
The air was still. Heavy. The kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums, stretching time itself. Rachel sat at the edge of the ritual circle, the same one that had nearly torn her apart hours earlier. Her legs were folded, spine straight, palms resting against her knees. Her breathing was steady now. No silver light. No flickers of power. No whispers from Elira. Just silence. For the first time in weeks, she felt... alone in her own mind. And yet, not. ere You’re different,” Stacy said, standing in the doorway. “Even your posture. It’s like you’re still you, but... more.” Rachel opened her eyes slowly. “Because I am.” Stacy walked in, barefoot, cautious. “You said you chose both. What does that mean?” Rachel looked up, meeting her gaze. “It means I didn’t destroy Elira. I accepted her.” “You *what*?” “She’s not whispering in my head anymore. She’s part of me. Not separate.” Stacy sat down across from her. “That sounds... dangerous.” “It is,” Rachel admitted. “But d
The wind outside the penthouse howled like something ancient had awakened. The eclipse was a few hours away. The sky had already begun its transformation—its deep blue turning pale gray, clouds crawling like shadows ready to devour the sun. Inside, the wards pulsed steadily, glowing brighter than usual, reacting to the shift in the air. Rachel sat at the dining table, staring at the untouched tea Nyra had made for her. She hadn’t spoken since waking. Not to Dylan. Not to Stacy. The conversation with Elira echoed in her skull like a warning bell she couldn’t silence. Only one of us survives. She didn’t know what that meant—not really. But every time she blinked, she saw Elira’s face burned into the backs of her eyelids, watched her vanish into cracked sky, felt the weight of a promise she hadn’t made. Stacy sat across from her, arms folded over a book, watching. Not reading. Just there. Waiting. “I don’t like this,” Stacy said quietly. Rachel didn’t respond. Stacy tapped t
The air inside the penthouse shifted the moment the wards were sealed. Nyra had drawn runes on every surface—windows, walls, even beneath the furniture. Silvery ink glowed faintly under dim light, vibrating with quiet energy. The moon eclipse was twenty-four hours away. The countdown had begun. Rachel stood barefoot in the center of the main room, surrounded by salt lines and symbols written in ancient tongue. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from anticipation. Her time was running out. And so was her control. Stacy stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching every move like she was ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. Dylan moved silently behind Nyra, assisting her as she laid the final ward across the ceiling. “How long will this link last?” Rachel asked, eyes flicking between the glowing symbols. Nyra didn’t look up. “Long enough to either ground you… or lose you completely.” Rachel tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “And Dylan will be inside my mind?”
Rachel watched the horizon from the balcony, the last hint of dusk melting into darkness. The city sparkled far below, distant and untouched by the chaos that stirred in her veins.Inside her chest, two truths warred for dominance: the Warden’s calm confession and Elira’s searing rage.She still didn’t know which one to trust.The door behind her opened. She didn’t have to look.“You haven’t spoken since the vision,” Dylan said.Rachel nodded, but said nothing.He stepped beside her. “Say something.”“I’m trying to make sense of it.”“Of what? That the Warden didn’t throw her into the fire, she *asked* for it?”She turned toward him. “Would you believe me if I said I understand?”His eyes narrowed. “Understand what?”“The desire to give up before losing control.”Silence fell between them.Dylan’s jaw tightened. “Don’t ever say that again.”“I’m not giving up. I’m saying… I get it now. The pressure. The weight. Elira was breaking, and no one listened. Not until it was too late.”“You
Rachel stood under the freezing shower, water crashing against her skin, but it did nothing to quiet the storm inside. Her fingers had stopped glowing, but the sensation lingered—like Elira’s presence was still coiled around her spine, watching her every move.She braced her hands against the tiled wall, breathing heavily, letting the cold slice through her thoughts.She could still hear Elira’s voice.*“Too late.”*Dylan waited outside the bathroom door. He hadn't said a word since they’d rushed her out of the circle. Nyra had wanted to run a full energy purge. Rachel refused. She didn’t want to be cleansed. She wanted to understand.The water turned off. Moments later, the door opened, steam spilling into the hallway. Rachel stepped out, towel around her shoulders, her expression unreadable.“She’s not a voice anymore,” she said. “She’s a presence. A force.”Dylan nodded slowly. “She’s merging.”“No. She’s *moving.* She’s done waiting for me to break.”“Then we stop her.”Rachel lea