Dryanden's crimson gaze lingered on Rowen for a moment longer than she expected as he set her empty bowl onto the counter. The comforting glow of the firelight, which had bathed the room in warmth during their quiet dinner, seemed to fade, leaving the space cooler and quieter.
"This was nice," Rowen said, breaking the silence, though her voice carried an edge of unease. She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve.
"Yes," Dryanden replied, though his tone carried a weight that made Rowen sit up a little straighter.
He turned toward a nearby shelf, his movements slow and deliberate. Her gaze followed him as he retrieved something from the shadows—a blade. The knife gleamed in the dim light, its silver edge etched with faint, glowing runes that shifted like smoke.
Rowen stiffened, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. "Okay, not to ruin the moment, but why do you suddenly have a dagger?"
Dryanden faced her, holding the blade with reverence, his expression unreadable. "The blood claim," he said simply.
She swallowed hard, a mix of anticipation and dread pooling in her stomach. "Right. I almost forgot about that."
"You didn't forget," he said softly, taking a step closer. "You've been thinking about it this entire time."
Rowen opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. He wasn't wrong. The ritual had hovered in the back of her mind since the moment he'd explained it. Now, the reality of it loomed in front of her, sharp and gleaming.
"I need you to understand," Dryanden continued, his voice low and steady, "this bond isn't something you can undo. Once it's done, it's permanent. You and I will be connected in ways you've never experienced before."
She stood, crossing her arms as she tried to summon her usual bravado. "Yeah, you mentioned that already. I'm still not entirely sure what it means, though. Like, connected how? Will I be able to hear your thoughts or something?"
Dryanden's lips twitched faintly, though his expression remained serious. "Not thoughts. Emotions, perhaps. Sensations. And I'll feel yours in return. The bond ensures that we can't easily lose each other in this world."
Rowen let out a slow breath, her gaze flicking between the knife and Dryanden's face.
"Okay, so… no losing each other," Rowen said, her voice straining for casualness. "Sounds great if you're into magical leashes. What happens if I panic and decide to nope out halfway through this ritual?"
Dryanden's expression hardened, but his voice remained calm. "If you hesitate before the bond is complete, the consequences are unpredictable. An incomplete connection could leave you vulnerable—disoriented, weakened, or worse."
Rowen's stomach churned. "Worse? Define worse."
"The magic binding the bond could fragment," he said, his voice quiet but unyielding. "It would fray at the edges, leaving you open to the darker energies of this world. Creatures would sense the instability and… exploit it."
Rowen took a step back, her hand instinctively brushing the edge of the table for support. "Right. No pressure or anything."
"I would not allow such harm to come to you," he added, stepping closer. The intensity in his crimson gaze made it hard to look away. "But the risk remains."
Rowen exhaled slowly, her mind whirling with a thousand doubts. "And what about you? What happens to you if this goes sideways?"
"The effects on me would be negligible," Dryanden said, though his hesitation told her more than his words. "The greater danger is to you."
"Oh, great," Rowen muttered, pacing away from him. Her boots clicked softly on the stone floor as she moved. "So, no room for second thoughts, no chance to back out, and I'm just supposed to—what? Sit still and let you cut me?"
Dryanden set the knife down on the table, his movements deliberate. "You have questions. Ask them."
Rowen blinked, momentarily thrown by his composure. "You're really going to let me stall, huh?"
He inclined his head slightly. "It's better to hesitate now than in the middle of the ritual."
She crossed her arms, her mind grasping at anything to delay the inevitable. "Okay, fine. How do you even know this thing works? Did you do it before? With someone else?"
Dryanden's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, maybe. "Once. A very long time ago."
Rowen's breath caught. "What happened?"
"It worked," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Until it didn't."
"That's… not exactly comforting," she said, turning to face him fully. "What does that even mean?"
"It means the bond is only as strong as the trust between those who share it," he said, his tone sharper now. "If that trust is broken, the bond can fracture."
Rowen frowned, her arms tightening around herself. "So if one of us screws up, the whole thing falls apart?"
"Not immediately," he said. "But cracks form. Weaknesses that can be exploited."
She chewed her lip, her eyes darting to the blade on the table. "And if I mess this up… does it hurt you?"
Dryanden hesitated. "The bond is a shared connection. Pain in one is felt by the other, to varying degrees."
"Varying degrees?" she echoed. "You're just full of specifics, aren't you?"
He allowed the faintest smirk to tug at his lips. "Pain is not my primary concern. Ensuring your survival is."
Rowen huffed, running a hand through her hair. "I hate this."
"I'm aware," Dryanden said, his voice maddeningly calm. "You may continue pacing if it helps."
She glared at him but resumed pacing anyway, her boots scuffing lightly against the stone. The knife on the table gleamed faintly in the firelight, an ever-present reminder of what lay ahead.
"What if I change my mind later?" she blurted. "What if I decide I don't want to be magically tethered to you for the rest of my life?"
"Then you adapt," he said simply. "Or you learn to live with regret. The bond cannot be undone, Rowen. You must be certain before we proceed."
Rowen stopped mid-step, her hands clenching into fists. "That's the problem—I'm not certain! I don't know if I'll ever be certain. I barely know you, and now you're asking me to—"
"To trust me," Dryanden finished, his tone soft but firm. "Because the alternative is far worse."
Rowen turned to face him, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She stared at the blade, her thoughts a whirlwind of doubt. Trust him? She didn't even trust herself to survive this world. And yet, the alternative—facing it alone—felt like walking willingly into a grave.
"This feels… wrong. I mean, doesn't it bother you? Binding yourself to someone like this?"
Dryanden's expression softened, his crimson eyes glinting in the low light. "What bothers me," he said quietly, "is the thought of you facing this world alone. If that is selfish, then so be it."
Rowen froze, her heart lurching at the sincerity in his voice. She glanced at the knife again, then at her own hands, which were trembling despite her best efforts to steady them.
"Fine," she said finally, her voice trembling. "Fine. Let's just… get it over with."
Dryanden stepped forward, his movements slow and measured, giving her every opportunity to back away. He picked up the blade, the runes glowing faintly along its edge. "Hold out your hand."
Rowen extended her hand, her fingers shaking visibly. But as the cold metal touched her skin, she yanked her arm back with a sharp gasp. "Wait!"
Dryanden froze, his crimson eyes flicking to hers. He didn't speak, didn't move, waiting for her to gather herself.
Rowen let out a shaky laugh, rubbing her palms against her thighs. "Sorry, I just—this is a lot, okay? I needed a second."
He set the blade down again, watching her with an unreadable expression. "Take all the time you need."
She exhaled slowly, pacing back to the other side of the room. "This is insane. My whole life, I thought vampires were just… creepy stories, you know? And now I'm about to—what? Join some magical blood club?"
Dryanden's lips twitched, but he didn't interrupt.
Rowen stopped near one of the shelves, her gaze landing on a glowing crystal. "What happens if I screw this up?" she asked, her voice quieter now.
"You won't," Dryanden said simply.
She turned to face him, her arms crossed over her chest. "But if I do? What then?"
"Then I will do everything in my power to protect you," he said, his voice steady.
Something in his tone made her pause. It wasn't just confidence—it was certainty.
"Okay," she said finally, taking a deep breath. "I think… I'm ready now."
Dryanden stepped forward again, his movements careful and deliberate. He picked up the blade once more, holding it lightly in his hand. "This time, don't pull away."
Rowen nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. She extended her hand, bracing herself as the cold metal touched her skin.
"Keep breathing," Dryanden murmured, his voice low and soothing.
Rowen flinched as the knife grazed her palm, the cool metal sharp but precise. A thin line of crimson welled up almost immediately, trickling down her wrist in slow, deliberate streams. She clenched her teeth, resisting the urge to pull back, the weight of the moment anchoring her in place.
"Good," Dryanden murmured, his tone as steady as his hand. He didn't look up, his focus entirely on the task. "The pain will be brief."
"That's easy for you to say," Rowen muttered, her voice tight. "You're not the one getting sliced open."
Dryanden's lips twitched faintly. "Not yet."
Before she could parse his words, he turned the blade on himself. The gesture was swift, his expression unchanging as the knife cut into his own palm. Blood, darker and richer than hers, welled up and shimmered faintly under the room's ambient light.
Rowen's breath caught. For all her trepidation, she couldn't deny the strange beauty of it—the otherworldly glow, the way his crimson eyes softened as he extended his hand toward hers.
"Now," Dryanden said softly, his voice carrying a reverence that made her stomach flip. "Place your hand against mine."
Rowen hesitated, her pulse thundering in her ears. Her eyes flicked between his outstretched palm and his face, searching for any sign of doubt. There was none. Only calm resolve.
"Rowen," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "I will protect you. Trust me."
Swallowing hard, she extended her hand. The moment their palms met, the sensation was immediate and overwhelming—a sharp, electric jolt that shot through her entire body. As their blood mingled, the air itself seemed to ripple, charged with a primal energy that thrummed in her ears. It was as if the world itself was bending, reshaping, to acknowledge their connection.
The pain dulled, replaced by an all-consuming warmth that spread through her like molten fire. It wasn't gentle—it was fierce and unrelenting, filling every corner of her being until she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't feel anything but him. The connection between them blazed brighter, an electric hum that coursed through her veins and seemed to echo in her very soul.
But there was something else there too. Faint, fleeting, but sharp as a blade—an ache that didn't belong to her. It was his. It swept through her like a shadow, jagged and hollow, leaving a cold void in its wake. Loss. Pain. Regret. The emotions didn't have words, but they carried weight, pressing down on her chest like a heavy stone.
She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as the bond surged again, the sensation almost too much to bear. Dryanden's grip tightened on her, steady and unyielding, and the flicker of vulnerability she'd felt was gone, locked behind his ever-present walls. His crimson eyes glowed brighter, his gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that bordered on feral.
"It's done," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "The bond is complete."
Rowen swayed, her vision swimming as the world around her seemed to shift. She could feel him—really feel him. His presence wasn't just beside her anymore; it was inside her, a steady pulse at the edge of her awareness. His emotions, normally guarded behind an impenetrable wall, bled through the connection like whispers in the dark.
"Is it supposed to feel like… this?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Dryanden's expression softened, though the glow in his eyes remained fierce. "It will take time to adjust. The bond is still settling."
Rowen nodded weakly, but her knees gave out, and she stumbled forward. Dryanden caught her easily, his arm wrapping around her waist to steady her.
"Breathe," he murmured, his voice was a shelter in the storm raging inside her. "Focus on the present. Let the bond settle naturally."
She tried to do as he said, inhaling deeply through her nose. But the sensations were overwhelming—his emotions, his strength, the faint echoes of his thoughts threading through her mind. It was as if she were standing too close to a roaring fire, both drawn to its warmth and terrified of being consumed.
"What's… happening?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Dryanden guided her to a nearby chair, his movements slow and deliberate. "You're feeling the connection—the merging of our essences. It's… intense at first."
"No kidding," she muttered, gripping the edge of the chair as though it might anchor her.
His lips quirked into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. "The initial rush will fade. Until then, lean on me."
She shot him a wary look, but the steadiness in his gaze quelled some of her unease. For all his intensity, there was something oddly comforting about his presence—like a lighthouse cutting through the fog.
"Fine," she said, exhaling shakily. "But if this thing fries my brain, I'm holding you personally responsible."
"Noted," Dryanden said, his tone tinged with amusement.
As the initial surge began to ebb, Rowen felt the bond settle into a quieter hum, the edges of her awareness sharpening. The burn in her chest, the overwhelming sensations—they didn't vanish entirely, but they softened, becoming manageable.
"I think I'm okay now," she said hesitantly, though her voice wavered slightly.
Dryanden stepped back, his gaze lingering on her as if assessing her state. "You've done well."
"Great. Gold star for me," she quipped, her usual sarcasm creeping back into her tone. "So, what happens now?"
He tilted his head slightly, considering her. "Now, you rest. The bond is new, and you've been through enough for one night."
Rowen opened her mouth to protest, but a wave of exhaustion washed over her, cutting her off. Her limbs felt leaden, her eyelids heavy. She frowned, glaring at him suspiciously. "Are you doing something to me?"
"I may be… encouraging your body to relax," Dryanden admitted, his smirk faint but undeniable.
"You're the worst," she muttered, already feeling herself sink further into the chair. Her head lolled slightly, her vision blurring as the room dimmed around her.
Before she could fully succumb, Dryanden was at her side, his hands firm but gentle as he helped her to her feet. "Come," he said, guiding her toward a large bed tucked into a shadowed corner of the room.
Rowen grumbled something incoherent, her feet dragging as she leaned heavily on him. The bed was low and simple, its dark sheets looking far more inviting than she wanted to admit. Dryanden eased her down onto it, arranging her limbs as if she might break.
"There," he murmured, stepping back. "Rest."
The moment his hands left her, Rowen's chest tightened. It was subtle at first, a faint twinge beneath her ribs, but it quickly grew sharper, like claws scraping against her heart. Her breathing hitched, her fingers curling into the sheets as panic surged.
"Wait!" she gasped, her voice cracking. "Don't—don't go."
Dryanden froze mid-step, turning back to her. "What is it?"
"I—" Rowen clutched at her chest, her pulse racing. The bond thrummed beneath her skin, electric and unrelenting. "I don't know. It feels… wrong. Like something's missing."
His crimson eyes flickered with understanding, and he moved back to her side, lowering himself onto the bed. The instant his presence was close again, the tightness in her chest eased, the edges of her panic receding.
Rowen exhaled shakily, her gaze darting to his face. "What the hell was that?"
"The bond," he said simply. "It's new. Fragile. Distance can feel… unnatural at first."
"Unnatural?" she echoed, her voice rising. "It felt like I was dying."
Dryanden's expression remained calm, but his jaw tightened slightly. "The connection is adjusting. You won't always feel it so intensely."
Rowen leaned back against the pillows, her breathing still uneven. "You could've warned me about that."
"I wasn't certain how you would react," he admitted, his voice soft. "The bond manifests differently for everyone."
She glared at him, though it lacked any real heat. "Well, next time, maybe give me a heads-up."
"Duly noted." He inclined his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "The bond is still settling," Dryanden murmured, his gaze distant. "It will grow stronger—and with it, so will the connection. The boundaries between us may not remain as they are now."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. The bed dipped slightly under Dryanden's weight as he remained seated at the edge, his presence a steadying force. Rowen's panic had mostly subsided, but a new discomfort bloomed in its place—a sharp, stinging heat radiating from her throat and chest.
She shifted uncomfortably, her fingers brushing against her collarbone. "Is it supposed to burn like this?"
Dryanden stiffened, his gaze snapping to hers. "Burn?"
"Yeah," she said, pressing a hand to her chest. "It's like… a fire under my skin. And my throat—" She broke off, wincing as the sharpness flared. "What is that?"
Dryanden's expression darkened, his shoulders tense. "It's my hunger."
Rowen blinked, the words taking a moment to register. "Your hunger?" she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "You're telling me this is because you'rehungry?"
He nodded slowly, his jaw clenched. "The bond amplifies certain needs. Hunger is… unavoidable."
Her stomach flipped, part of her wanting to recoil while the other half leaned into the strange, magnetic pull between them. "So, what—you need to bite me?"
"I don't need to," he said, though his voice was strained. "Not tonight. I can endure it."
Rowen frowned, her hand still pressed to her chest. The burning sensation hadn't lessened; if anything, it was growing worse. "Yeah, well, I can't. This thing—whatever it is—feels like it's going to rip me apart."
Dryanden hesitated, his crimson eyes locked onto hers. "It will fade with time."
"Time I don't have," she shot back, her voice sharp. "I can't sleep like this. You said the bond was supposed to help, not make me feel like I'm on fire."
He looked away, his hands curling into fists. "If I bite you now, it will hurt."
"Good thing I've been practicing my pain tolerance lately," she muttered, her voice wry despite the tension.
Dryanden's gaze snapped back to hers, his expression unreadable. "You don't understand. The initial bite is… overwhelming. The bond will intensify everything."
Rowen swallowed hard, the burn in her throat making her wince. "I'll take my chances. Just—please. I can't do this all night."
For a long moment, Dryanden didn't move. His crimson eyes glinted in the dim light, sharp and searching, as if weighing her resolve. Finally, he exhaled, the sound more resigned than relieved.
"Very well," he said softly. "Lie back."
Rowen obeyed, her heart pounding as she adjusted herself against the pillows. The burn in her chest flared again, and she let out a low groan, her fists clenching in the sheets. "Let's just get this over with."
Dryanden's hand brushed her hair aside, his fingers cool against the heated skin of her neck. For a brief moment, he hesitated, his crimson eyes locked on the curve of her throat.
"This isn't how it should be," he murmured, almost to himself.
Rowen frowned, her chest tightening as the bond flared again. "What are you waiting for? Just do it."
His gaze flicked to hers, shadows passing through his expression. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You already are," she shot back, her voice breaking as the burn in her chest surged. "Just—please."
The plea seemed to steady him. His hand brushed her hair aside, trembling for the briefest moment before his jaw tightened. A shadow passed through his expression, too quick for Rowen to catch.. He leaned in, his breath cool against her skin, the weight of centuries pressing down on him. 'Breathe,' he murmured, more to himself than to her. "It will be over quickly."
She tried to do as he said, inhaling deeply through her nose. But when she felt the sharp press of his fangs against her skin, her breath caught, her body stiffening.
The pain came fast and sharp, like twin needles piercing her neck. Rowen gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders, but she didn't push him away.
The initial sting sent shockwaves through her body, every nerve alight with searing pain that radiated outward from the punctures at her neck. Rowen's breath hitched, her nails digging into Dryanden's shoulders as her vision blurred with white-hot intensity.
She gasped out a cry, her voice breaking as the agony surged. Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat amplifying the unbearable sensation.
Dryanden's hands steadied her, one resting lightly on her arm and the other against her lower back. His voice was low, a steady anchor amidst the chaos. "Stay with me. It will pass." he murmured, the words resonating through the bond.
But it didn't feel like it would. The pain grew sharper, cutting deeper, until Rowen felt as though her very essence was being pulled taut and unraveled at the same time. She cried out again, her body instinctively arching against him, every instinct screaming for her to escape.
"I can't—" she choked out, her hands trembling against him.
But as his fangs sank deeper, the fire shifted, no longer an unbearable burn but a steady, glowing ember. The pain didn't disappear—it evolved, raw and consuming, binding them tighter with every shared heartbeat.
Dryanden pulled back slightly, his voice cutting through the haze. "Let go," he commanded, his tone deep and steady. "Stop fighting it."
Rowen clenched her teeth as he sank his fangs back into her, her body shaking from the strain. But as the bond surged again, she felt something break—her resistance, her fear, or maybe both. Her muscles went slack, her head tilting to the side as she let herself sink into the sensations.
The pain dulled, replaced by an all-consuming heat. It wasn't gentle—it was fierce and unrelenting, filling every corner of her being until she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't feel anything but him. The connection between them blazed brighter, an electric hum that coursed through her veins and seemed to echo in her very soul.
Her hands fell from his shoulders, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps, her vision swimming, her body trembling as the bond blazed between them. The electric hum of it grew louder, searing through every nerve and leaving her raw, vulnerable. It was too much. Too fast.
"Rowen," Dryanden said, his voice distant and tinged with an edge of concern. "Stay with me."
But she couldn't. The bond was too much, too overwhelming, swallowing her whole.
And yet, in the overwhelming chaos, something else flickered—a faint, inexplicable pull. It wasn't pain, nor panic, but the strange certainty of him. The feeling of Dryanden, not as the cold, calculating presence she'd come to know, but as something steady, unrelenting, and hers.
The thought was fleeting, slipping through her fingers like smoke. Before she could hold onto it, the darkness surged, dragging her under. The last thing she felt was the cool brush of his hand against her cheek—a tether she couldn't name, but couldn't bear to lose.
Dryanden exhaled, his crimson eyes softening as he gently lowered her onto the pillows. For a moment, he lingered, his hand hovering near her cheek before retreating. "Rest," he murmured, though his tone carried a weight that lingered long after the room fell silent.