Raven could hardly believe it the moment she had been dreaming of for as long as she could remember had finally arrived. She was officially an adult. At eighteen, the world seemed to open up before her, full of possibilities and promises. The thrill of knowing she could do whatever she wanted was exhilarating. She could legally buy alcohol, get drunk if she felt like it, travel the world on her terms, and make her own decisions. The possibilities felt infinite, and she was ready to explore them all. This was the freedom she had been waiting for.

For years, being the youngest in her friend group had been a point of frustration. They were all older, more experienced, and free to do the things she couldn't , like clubbing and attending exclusive parties. Though they always looked out for her, sneaking her drinks at house parties or handing her fake IDs she never had the nerve to use, she still felt like an outsider. Drinking was never really her thing. It was more of a social act, something she did to feel like she belonged, to blend in. But tonight, on her eighteenth birthday, everything was different. She was no longer restricted by rules or boundaries. She was ready to fully embrace her newfound independence.

Her family had spared no expense to mark the occasion. Being the daughter of Nathaniel Whitmore, the city's wealthy and influential mayor, had its perks. The grand party thrown in her honor was nothing short of spectacular, a dazzling affair that blended opulence and celebration. The ballroom of their estate, with its glittering chandeliers and gold accents, was transformed into a magical realm. Guests in elegant attire mingled under the soft glow of golden lights, while a live orchestra played a melody that felt like it belonged in a royal court.

Raven descended the grand staircase slowly, savoring every moment of the attention that was fixed solely on her. She wore a gown that could rival the finest creations of any medieval princess. Its fabric was a deep, rich red, almost like the color of freshly spilt wine, and it shimmered as she moved, catching the light with every step. Intricate gold embroidery wove through the dress, forming delicate floral patterns that looked as though they had been stitched by fairies. The gown hugged her figure perfectly, its backless design accentuating her slender frame, and fell into a train that trailed elegantly behind her.

Her accessories were equally breathtaking. A golden tiara inlaid with rubies crowned her head, the gemstones catching the light and glinting like tiny fires. Around her neck hung a 24-carat gold necklace, a cherished gift from her father on her sixteenth birthday. It was her favorite piece of jewelry, not just because of its beauty but because of the massive ruby that hung at its center, its vibrant hue matching the shade of her gown. Her makeup was a work of art, with golden tones that highlighted her flawless complexion and brought out the striking color of her eyes. Her deep blue eyes, so vibrant they almost appeared violet, shone with excitement. Her long, dark hair fell in soft, glossy waves down her back, stopping just at her waist.

She had added her own personal touch to the look a faux tattoo drawn onto the bare skin of her back, a bold flourish that symbolized her first act of rebellion as an adult. It wasn't permanent, but it was a statement: she was no longer the sheltered girl people thought they knew. She was ready to make her own choices, to step out of her parents' shadow and show the world who she really was.

Her golden heels clicked softly against the polished marble as she made her way down, perfectly complementing her gown. The perfume she wore, an exclusive blend of floral and woody notes, left a trail of luxury in her wake. Its scent was intoxicating, a mixture of elegance and seduction that seemed to envelop everyone around her.

The moment she reached the bottom of the staircase, a hush fell over the room. All eyes were on her. She felt the admiration in their gazes, the unspoken awe at her transformation. Reporters stood at the edges of the room, their cameras flashing as they captured her descent. Being the mayor's only daughter came with its challenges, but moments like this made it all worthwhile. She was the center of attention, the crown jewel of the evening.

She absorbed the looks of admiration and envy, letting the energy of the crowd wash over her. The room was filled with people from all walks of life politicians, socialites, business magnates, and those eager to curry favor with her father. Some were there to network, others to revel in the spectacle of the event. But tonight, Raven wasn't just Nathaniel Whitmore's daughter. She was the star of the show, and she intended to shine.

Raven could hardly believe her eyes when she saw the cake. It was a towering masterpiece, nearly fourteen inches tall, and crafted as an exact replica of her. Every detail was flawless from the deep red of her gown to the intricate gold embroidery, the sparkling tiara, and even the faux tattoo on her back. The cake was her in edible form, a combination of chocolate and red velvet layers that smelled as divine as it looked. She marveled at the skill of the pastry chef who had created it, though the thought of cutting into it filled her with a twinge of guilt. It was too beautiful to destroy.

The party was a grand affair, far bigger than anything Raven had imagined. Her parents had insisted the celebration take place in their luxurious home, a sprawling mansion with marble floors, gilded ceilings, and crystal chandeliers. Despite its vastness, the house felt packed, with every room filled to capacity and the outdoor tents overflowing with guests. The crowd was massive friends, family, reporters, and countless others, many of whom Raven didn't recognize but knew were there to curry favor with her father, the mayor. The house itself seemed to pulse with energy, the sounds of laughter and music echoing through its halls.

Raven's two best friends, Marcy and Lila, squealed with delight when they saw her. They looked stunning in their individual outfits Marcy in a shimmering silver dress and Lila in a flowing emerald-green gown but they paled in comparison to Raven. She was the undisputed star of the evening, and her gown, tiara, and radiant beauty made her look like a bride walking into her own wedding. Not that Raven minded; she absorbed their compliments with a grateful smile, basking in the attention.

Photos were taken endlessly. Every angle, every smile, and every moment was captured by guests, reporters, and the hired photographer. Raven's cheeks ached from smiling, and her feet were already beginning to protest from standing in her heels for so long, but she didn't care. This was her night, and she intended to savor every second. People congratulated her, showered her with praise, and handed her an overwhelming number of presents so many that she doubted she'd ever have the time to open them all.

When it came time to cut the cake, Raven hesitated, the knife trembling slightly in her hand. She felt an almost physical pain at the thought of slicing into something so exquisite, but she reminded herself that this was its purpose. With the room singing the birthday song and eighteen candles flickering on top of the cake, Raven blew them out in one breath, though the effort left her slightly dizzy. As the staff whisked the cake away to be cut and served on trays, the party truly began.

Food was served in abundance an extravagant spread of delicacies that catered to every taste. Raven danced joyfully with her friends, the music lifting her spirits higher and higher. Eventually, a slow song began, and before she could react, her father appeared at her side, hand extended.

"May I have this dance, birthday girl?" Nathaniel Whitmore asked, his deep, commanding voice softened by the warmth in his storm-gray eyes.

Nathaniel was the picture of rugged handsomeness, his wavy, shoulder-length dark brown hair streaked with silver at the temples, giving him a distinguished air. His piercing eyes seemed to shift colors with his mood, and his chiseled jawline was shadowed by a perfectly trimmed beard. He exuded confidence and authority, but the way he smiled at Raven made her feel like a little girl again.

He pulled her into a graceful waltz, his broad shoulders and athletic frame moving effortlessly to the rhythm. Raven looked up at her father with pure adoration, her heart swelling with pride and gratitude. Nathaniel, in turn, couldn't take his eyes off his daughter. She looked so much like her mother had at her age stunning, poised, and full of life. The resemblance was almost uncanny, and though he was proud of the young woman Raven was becoming, he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the little girl she used to be.

When the song ended, Nathaniel kissed Raven's forehead, his affection palpable. "Happy birthday, my little flame," he said softly.

Raven watched as her father swept her mother, Elena, into his arms for the next dance. They looked utterly captivated by each other, as though no one else in the room existed. Elena's auburn hair glowed like a halo under the chandelier's light, her emerald-green eyes sparkling with love. Her simple yet elegant green gown hugged her figure perfectly, and the emerald gems she wore only enhanced her timeless beauty. Watching them, Raven felt a pang of longing. She wanted a love like theirs deep, enduring, and all-encompassing. But she doubted she would ever find it.

The boys her age were nothing like her father. They were immature, shallow, and incapable of the kind of love her parents shared. Most of them only seemed interested in one thing, and it certainly wasn't commitment. As she scanned the crowd, she noticed her best friends dancing with their boyfriends. The sight made her feel even lonelier, a reminder that no matter how beautiful or accomplished she was, relationships always seemed to elude her.

Shaking off the melancholy, Raven decided to distract herself. Alcohol was flowing like water at the party champagne, cocktails, wine, and every other drink imaginable. She made her way to the bar and picked up a glass of champagne, savoring the crisp, bubbly taste. By her second glass, she was beginning to feel the effects, her body swaying slightly to the music. That's when she felt it a strange, sharp sensation at the nape of her neck, where her birthmark lay hidden beneath her hair.

The sensation quickly escalated from a faint throb to a burning ache. Raven's hand shot up to the spot, expecting to find blood or a wound, but her fingers came away clean. Panic began to creep in as the glass slipped from her trembling fingers, shattering on the floor. Around her, the party continued as if nothing was happening, the music and laughter drowning out her growing fear.

The clock struck midnight, and the air in the room seemed to thicken, pressing down on her chest. Her heart pounded as if it were trying to escape her ribcage. She reached for her phone, angling the camera to inspect her neck, but the throbbing grew more intense, clouding her thoughts. Desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere, she turned and fled, her heels crunching over the shattered glass as she raced toward her room.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, and her vision blurred as she burst through her bedroom door, slamming it shut behind her. She leaned against the door, her trembling hands clutching her neck. The pain was unbearable now, like fire spreading through her veins. Just as she reached for the mirror to get a better look, a voice whispered a low, sultry murmur that sent chills down her spine.

It was soft yet undeniably inhuman, curling around her like smoke. "Finally, little flame," it purred. "You have come of age, I have waited a thousand years for this moment ."

"Happy birthday, my little flame."

She spun around, her pulse pounding in her ears. The shadows twisted, morphing into the shape of a man. No, not a man. Something darker. His presence filled the room like smoke, suffocating and intoxicating all at once.

"Who are you?" she choked out, her voice trembling.

He smiled, a devilish curve of his lips that promised both pleasure and destruction. His black eyes glinted like polished obsidian, and his voice dripped with honeyed malice.

"I am Azriel," he purred, stepping closer, his footsteps silent against the wooden floor. His voice was deep, laced with a dangerous charm that made Raven's heart race against her will. "And you, my darling, are mine."

A cold shiver raced down her spine, prickling her skin like icy needles, but her body betrayed her, an unfamiliar heat rising in her chest, pooling low in her stomach. She clenched her fists, trying to steady herself as her breath hitched. His hand reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek with a touch that burned and thrilled all at once. The sensation sent shockwaves through her, her body reacting as though it recognized something her mind couldn't comprehend.

"No," she whispered, her voice weak and trembling, lacking the conviction she desperately needed.

Azriel's smile widened, slow and knowing, his shadowy form pressing closer until he was just a breath away. "You can deny me all you want, Raven, but our bond is eternal," he said, his voice dropping into a low growl that sent vibrations straight to her core. "From this moment on, you'll never be rid of me."

Her eyes widened in shock, the weight of his words sinking in like a stone in water. What bond? Who was this creature, this impossibly alluring, terrifying being standing before her? Raven's instincts screamed at her to run, to put as much distance between herself and him as possible. But her legs refused to obey. She stood frozen, caught in the gravity of his presence, unable to look away.

Azriel moved with predatory grace, his hand replacing hers where her birthmark burned like a brand on her skin. A sharp, searing pain lanced through her, making her gasp, but as his fingers lingered, the pain ebbed and melted away, replaced by an overwhelming warmth that spread through her entire body. Suddenly, it was just the two of them in the world no noise, no light, no reality beyond their connection.

Raven's breath came in shallow, rapid bursts. She tried to tell herself it wasn't real. This had to be a hallucination, the alcohol messing with her mind. Maybe she had passed out at the bar. Maybe she was dreaming. This isn't happening, she thought frantically. It's just my imagination. I'll wake up, and everything will be normal again.

But the intensity of his presence the sound of his voice, the heat of his touch was too vivid to dismiss as a dream. He leaned closer, his lips hovering near hers, his shadowy form engulfing her. "You shouldn't really be drinking so much, little flame," he murmured, his voice like velvet, tugging at something deep inside her.

Before she could process his words, his lips met hers in a tentative kiss. The contact was electric, igniting a fire within her that she hadn't known existed. The darkness around them deepened, enveloping them in a cocoon of shadows. Raven felt herself spiraling, falling into an endless abyss where time and space ceased to matter. She wanted to resist, to fight against the magnetic pull of his presence, but it was futile. Her body, her very soul, betrayed her.

As her knees buckled, everything around her faded to black. The last thing she heard was Azriel's low chuckle, a sound that sent equal parts fear and longing coursing through her.

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