The forest had fallen silent again, but this silence wasn't the same as before. It was heavy—like it was holding its breath with them.
Lucian leaned against a tree, blood streaking down his arm, the torn fabric of his shirt sticking to his skin. He tried to steady his breathing, but every exhale came out low and rough, like a growl barely contained.
Asher stood a few feet away, chest heaving, hands trembling from everything he'd just seen. 'Monster ', the hunter had said. But looking at Lucian now, all Asher saw was a man who bled. A man who had protected him.
"You're hurt," Asher managed to say.
Lucian scoffed softly. "This is nothing."
"Don't lie to me." Asher's voice shook, but not from fear. He stepped closer slowly, as though approaching a wounded wolf.
Lucian's crimson eyes flicked up, watching him with quiet intensity. "Do you have any idea what you just did?" he murmured. "Hunters don't stop. You've marked yourself by being here."
"I was already marked," Asher replied, lifting the glowing locket slightly. "This thing made sure of it."
Lucian's gaze softened—barely, like a crack in stone. He didn't stop Asher when he crouched beside him. His hands hesitated over the torn flesh of Lucian's arm, unsure how to help.
Lucian tilted his head slightly. "You really shouldn't touch a vampire when he's bleeding."
"Why?"
A small, almost amused sound left Lucian's lips. "Because it makes things… complicated."
But Asher didn't pull back. "Then let it be complicated."
The words hung in the air between them, warm and quiet, settling into Lucian's chest like a flame he didn't want but couldn't ignore.
Slowly, Asher tore a strip from his own sleeve and began wrapping it carefully around Lucian's arm. Lucian stayed still, silent, his eyes following every small movement. His skin was cold against Asher's fingers, but not lifeless—like moonlight itself had a pulse.
"You should hate me," Lucian said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "For what my kind did to your ancestor. For what I might do to you."
Asher tied the fabric firmly and met his eyes. "If I was going to hate you, I wouldn't be here right now."
For a second, Lucian forgot to breathe.
The bond pulsed—soft, steady, warm—spreading through Asher's chest like a heartbeat that wasn't his own. Lucian's eyes darkened, but not in hunger. In something far more dangerous.
"Asher," he murmured. "You're walking into a storm you can't control."
"Then take me through it."
Something in Lucian cracked—not broken, not healed—but opened.
To be continued....