Dylan took the spoon from her bowl, scooped the soup, and blew in it. His breath mingled with the aroma of the chicken soup tickles on her nose. He then opens his mouth and puts the contents inside in a slow motion. Her throat bobs up and down as her eyes follow the way he chewed. She was gaping. “See? Let me tell you something. In time Rachie, you'll be swooning all over me even without the use of some voodoo enchantment.” He said with a lopsided grin, setting down the spoon he used on his mouth back to her bowl. Contaminating her soup with his saliva. Not that she minds. ‘Damn!’ Hence, Rachel doesn’t want to show him some sense of satisfaction, “Am I the one that fell asleep?” She sighs, nibbling her bottom lips in a sultry way, and leaned a bit closer to his face, their nose almost touching, and held his gaze, whispering softly, “because I think you are as yet drifting in your fantasies.” Dylan’s gaze dropped to her lips, his grin spread widely, and he pinched her
For some reason, Rachel felt that her cheeks warmed to what he told her, strangely flattered in quite ways. However, she pushed them at the back of her head and continued with her queries. “You mentioned something about your wolf. Is that another entity living inside you?” “He’s a part of my soul. He’s my alter-ego.” “Does it hurt when you transform?” “No, I’m used to it.” It was like they were in a talk show. Rachel is the host, while Dylan is the guest. She might not have noticed it, but his life now piques her interest, and unknowingly, she had pried out his personal life. “Do you have human friends?” “My family are all humans.” “You have a wife?” Rachel halted on her question after she fired out the last one. Her breath trapped in her lungs as she sat tight for his reply. She already hinted what he would be going to say, but a thought crossed her mind. Jealousy began to gnaw inside her if the anticipation she had would be proven wrong if Dylan would answer i
Rachel woke up to the alarm of her phone. She stretches her hands first above her head and slides down the bed. She remembered her conversation with Dylan last night and wondered if he had gotten a good night’s sleep. Though she wanted to run outside her bed and check up on him, she decided to get herself ready first for her work before she went out. However, Dylan wasn’t already there. The couch he had a sleep on was cold, and no hint of anything that he was there. She frowned in confusion and went to check on the kitchen, but he wasn’t there as well. The gas stove was cold, and there was no indication that the place had been touched. He didn’t even get himself a coffee before he left. So, what was that last night? He just disappears without even saying anything to her. Not even a thank you for letting him stay the night. It kind of saddened her, confused and at the same time disappointed. She admits last night was kind of new to her. Slowly she’s gotten comfortable around
It has been seven days since Dylan had a good night’s sleep. That dream haunts him. His first mate’s face, Laura, keeps appearing to his head whenever he closes his eyes. It was like the nightmares he had before Rachel came to his life crashing back like a wrecking ball. Ruining all his defenses in an instant. That dream he had. Where Laura was dancing on the top of the dais. It was like she was calling into him, yearning for his soul to come to her. Vanishing all of Rachel’s traits inside of his head. She was urging him to follow her to the other side. Dylan didn’t know what to do. He was torn between going with her or staying where he was at the moment. He doesn’t know what the dream means. For over the centuries, he was having the same nightmare. Seeing himself in the middle of his burning hut, gaping at the mangled corpses of his own family. Laura and Myro. It’s also been a week since he last visited Rachel. He didn’t want to face her without seeing or finding Laura in her
Another day rolled by so fast, and Rachel was still left in wonder as to why Dylan hadn't visited her yet. For quite a long time of consistent disturbing her, she was expecting to at least see him, but days came more than a week past, he was out of nowhere to be seen. Today, she received her first payment at the shop. It wasn’t that much, but since Dylan had already filled her groceries and everything she needed, especially the refrigerator. The only thing she bought for her salary was the new padlock for her front door. Other than that, there’s nothing else that she needed. Rachel had decided to set aside half of her earnings in case she ran out of supplies. She can’t just rely on the prospect of Dylan covering everything that she needed in her house. She is baffled as to why he did it in the first place. Purchasing groceries and other necessities for her. She didn't ask for it, but refusing to accept it would be a waste. Now she lay on her bed. It was past nine in the evenin
The bartender smiled at her the moment she perched on her seat as he slid in front of her across the counter. “What can | get you for tonight, miss beautiful?” Rachel thought about it for a moment, her eyes looking over the varieties of liquor that were put on display over the shelves. She wasn’t familiar with all the kinds of drinks, so she blurted whatever the first thing that came out of her head. “One glass of martini, please.” She didn’t know what kind of drink it was that, but she heard for it quite a few times, so at least she could give it a try. “One martini, coming right up.” The bartender chirped and proceeded to prepare her order. He showed her a few of his tricks by throwing and shaking the bottles, pouring the liquor on a cocktail glass in an excessive manner—trying to impress her, along with three cubes of ice and stirring it well. Then he squeezes lemon juice on it and out the peel on the glass’s rim for the garnish. After it was finished, he slid it towards he
Dylan was in his study office, as usual, sorting things out in his company and pushing all his inner troubles aside, and focusing on keeping the roof of his employees. Helen also dropped by and gave him his coffee and a slice of cake since he hasn’t come down for dinner. For the last few days, this has been his routine, drowning himself in his work just to forget his dreams and to get Rachel’s face out of his mind for a while. He even failed to remember that today was a full moon. If not for his alert set on his cellphone, he might have overlooked it. He went out to his usual place for his wolf to dominate and run for just about thirty minutes before he returned, washed up to get off the grime that clung on his skin. Then, at that point, back to his office to complete every one of the reports that are hanging tight for his attention. Just then, frantic footsteps came rushing down the hallway caught his attention. He paused for a moment and waited for his door to swing open, revea
The bouncer that stood guard on the entrance only gave him a short nod in recognition, letting him pass smoothly without asking for his identification. The blasting sound promptly plagued his hearing, and his nose wrinkled with dislike as he strung among the grinding bodies on the dancefloor. His gaze zeroed on the crowd, looking not for only one person but for two. Dylan tried to follow his mate’s scent, however he generally lost all sense of direction in this whole pack of crowd places. He couldn’t make out Stacey’s scent either. He was too centered around looking through the ocean of bouncing heads on the dancefloor until a yell tore through the booming music that grabbed his attention. “Mr. Reed!” Dylan squinted his gaze and followed his investigator’s voice. He found him over the corner, his arms raised, and waved for him to see with one hand cup beside his mouth to amplify his voice. “She’s here!” Without having second thoughts, he spears through the throng of peopl
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