He blinked slowly, his gaze sharpening as it locked onto mine. “You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and raspy with sleep. His fingers brushed against my arm as he shifted closer. “Are you okay?”
I jerked my arm back as if I’d been burned. The ache in my muscles was nothing compared to the anger that flared in my chest. “Okay?” I repeated, my voice hoarse and incredulous. “I feel like shit. Whatever you did to me during that”—I gestured vaguely, my voice trembling—“ritualnearly killed me.”
Guilt flashed across his face, a brief flicker that softened his features in a way I’d never seen before. “I didn’t know it would be like that,” he murmured. “Not for a human.”
“Right,” I snapped. “Because why would you think to consider what it might do to me? I’m just a human, right? My only purpose is to be used.”
His jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back, his shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m sorry, Vivian. I swear, I didn’t know. If I had…”
The remorse in his voice threw me off balance. I didn’t think The Shadow—that cold, unfeeling force of nature—was capable of regret, let alone guilt. But the weight in his tone, the way his brows furrowed as if the memory of my pain haunted him, made me hesitate. For the first time, I wondered if there might actually be a heart buried under all that darkness.
As he shifted in the bed, I realized he was still naked from the ritual the night before. I opened my mouth to speak, but then a strange sensation rippled through me. It wasn’t physical—not exactly. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and plucked a taut string, sending a reverberation through every nerve in my body. I froze as the sensation became sharper, heavier. Raw and unrelenting.
Anxiety. Worry. Fear.
But it wasn’t mine.
The realization struck like a lightning bolt, and a cold chill raced down my spine. The vivid emotions pressed against the edges of my mind, as if a door had cracked open and somethingforeign had slipped inside. They weren’t just passing feelings. They were alive, pulsating, and undeniablyhis.
I turned my gaze to Raffaele, my lips parting in disbelief. He was sitting across from me, his body deceptively still, but I could feel the turmoil radiating from him. It wasn’t merely a suspicion—Iknew.The bond between us, invisible but so achingly present, thrummed with it, like a thread tied tightly between our souls.
“What the fuck…” I whispered, my throat tight. The weight of his emotions was suffocating, pressing against my chest until it felt hard to breathe. My hands curled into fists, my nails biting into my palms as I tried to steady myself.
“I can feel you,” I said slowly. “You’re worried.”
His expression hardened instantly, his features locking into a mask so cold and controlled it sent a shiver through me. But it was too late. The bond had already betrayed him.
“Vivian—” he warned.
“No.” My voice rose with the swell of emotions that weren’t entirely my own. I jabbed a finger at him. “What thefuckis going on? Why can I feel what you’re feeling?”
The tether between us pulsed again, tightening around me like a noose. His worry was shifting, morphing into frustration. Sharp and grating, a mirror of my own rising anger. I tried to shake it off, but it clung to me, impossible to ignore.
He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that almost looked human—almost. “It’s the bond,” he admitted reluctantly. “It ties us together. Not just physically, but… emotionally. Mentally.”
I blinked, the words crashing into me like a wave. “What?” Disbelief clawing at the edges of my mind. “You’re saying… this is normal? I’m supposed to feelthis?”
“Yes.” He shifted slightly, his gaze flicking to the floor before meeting mine again. “It’s normal for you to pick up on myemotions. And I…” He paused, his jaw tightening as if the admission was physically painful. “I can feel yours, too.”
My heart raced as I processed that. The bond wasn’t just a metaphor—it was real, tangible, like a thread wound tightly around my chest, tethering me to him in ways I couldn’t even begin to understand. And right now, that thread buzzed with the echo of his emotions. It was overwhelming.
My mind was my greatest possession, and it was no longer my own. This was a fate worse than I ever could have imagined.
“What does that even mean?” I demanded. “You can feel me? What exactly are you feeling?”
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then his lips curved into a wry and entirely maddening smirk. “You’re pissed at me. That’s obvious.”
“No shit,” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. “What else?”
I caught the faintest flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before he masked it. “I can feel… fragments,” he said carefully, as if choosing his words with painstaking precision. “Your frustration. Your confusion. And—” Those dark eyes bore into me. “And your fear.”
The air left my lungs in a rush, and I recoiled as if he’d struck me. “I’m not afraid of you,” I said in reflex. But even as I spoke, I felt the bond hum with doubt, a subtle ripple of emotion that wasn’t mine.
He raised an eyebrow. “There’s no point in lying to me, Vivian. Not when I can feel the truth.”
My hands trembled, and I clenched them tighter around the sheet, fighting to maintain some semblance of control. I hated this. I hated him. But the bond wouldn’t let me lie, not even to myself.
“Fine,” I said finally. “Maybe I’m a little scared. But you’re not exactly easy to trust, Raffaele.”
