For a heartbeat after Darian vanished into the night, the house felt weightless — as if the world held its breath around Sophia. The walls seemed thinner, the shadows thicker, the distance between her and the door agonizingly small. The silence that followed wasn't silence at all; it was the taut, sharp hush of something circling outside, something with weight, with hunger.
The wood planks of the porch creaked.
Not under Darian's feet.
Under something heavier.
Sophia's pulse kicked into a frantic rhythm. She didn't dare move. The room felt fragile, as though any shift of her body could fracture the safety around her and let whatever lurked outside slip in through the cracks.
Her hands balled so tightly her nails dug crescents into her palms. She forced herself not to breathe too loudly. The fire behind her guttered, casting restless light into the room that seemed to tremble along with her.
Another sound — a low, dragging scrape along the outer wall.
Like claws.
Or bone.
Sophia's breath snagged. She backed up slowly, step by tiny step, until her shoulder brushed the bookshelf behind her. A thick book toppled forward, striking the floor with a thud that seemed explosive in the stillness.
The sound outside stopped.
Everything froze.
Her heart hammered so loud she was sure the creature could hear it — could smell it — could taste her fear in the air.
Then came the snarl.
Deep. Wet. Inhuman.
It vibrated through the wooden boards, through her bones, through the flame itself. She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep the scream from ripping out of her.
Don't move.Darian's voice echoed in her mind.Don't open the door. Don't look. Don't call out.
She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed herself back against the shelf.
Another growl — lower this time, almost curious.
The sound crawled under her skin like cold water.
The creature moved again, circling the house, its steps heavy, uneven, leaving long stretches of silence between each thud, as if it were listening just as intently as she was. The way its weight shifted said it wasn't human. It was wrong in shape and rhythm — too large, too slow, too precise.
Sophia's legs trembled.
Then the creature stopped again.
Right outside the window.
She didn't see it — but she felt it.A presence, massive and staring straight through the frosted glass as though the thin pane was nothing. The fire behind her cast a faint glow that brushed the edges of the window, revealing only the ghost of a silhouette.
Then—
Sniff.
A long, dragging inhale that scraped along her spine like ice.
It knew she was there.
It knew she was alone.
Her throat tightened as the creature pressed against the window, the wood frame groaning under its weight. The glass warped. For a split second, she thought it might shatter, that it would crawl in on all fours, that she'd see its true shape at last.
The glass bowed inward.
Sophia bit down on her hand to keep from screaming.
Then—
A sound split the night.
A roar.
Not the creature's.
Darian's.
It tore through the forest like a violent wind, vibrating through the trees, through the ground, through her chest. It wasn't human. It wasn't even close. It was something primal, ancient, furious.
The creature jerked away from the window.
It snarled again — this time in challenge.
The air outside exploded with movement.
Sophia didn't know which direction to look; the sounds came from everywhere at once — crashing bodies, snapping branches, the heavy thud of something slamming into the earth. The house trembled with every impact.
The fire crackled violently behind her, sparks leaping up the chimney as if reacting to the chaos outside.
Then — silence.
Pure, sudden, suffocating.
Sophia didn't move.
The only sound was the beating of her own heart.
A long moment passed.
Then footsteps.
Soft. Steady. Approaching the house.
Not the heavy, dragging steps of the creature.
These were measured. Controlled. Familiar.
Sophia let out a shaky breath as the door latch turned, slow and deliberate.
Darian stepped inside.
He looked… different.
Snow clung to his coat and hair, but not in soft flakes — melted into streaks, smeared with something darker. His eyes glowed faintly, unnatural and burning, like embers buried beneath ash. His jaw was tight, tension radiating off him in waves. His hands — she stared — bore faint dark stains along the knuckles.
Blood.
Her breath stuttered.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, stepping toward him before she could think better.
He shook his head once. But the movement was too sharp, too restrained.
"I told you to stay back," he said, voice low, frayed at the edges.
"I did," she whispered. "Mostly."
A flicker of something passed through his gaze — relief, frustration, something else she couldn't name.
He shut the door behind him with quiet force.Locked it.Bolted it.Checked the window beside it like someone who knew exactly how close danger still lingered.
When he finally looked at her again, his expression softened, but only barely.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
Her chest tightened. "You're asking me?"
"You're shaking."
"I—" She swallowed, realizing her whole body was trembling, almost violently now that the immediate threat was gone. "I thought it was going to break in."
"It tried."
Her blood ran cold.
"But it won't," Darian continued, stepping closer, his voice smoothing into something steadier. "Not tonight."
The warmth of him, the sheer intensity of him, washed over her like a force of nature. He radiated heat — not normal heat, something deeper, something from beneath the skin. It pulled her toward him, even as confusion tangled with her fear.
"What was that thing?" she whispered.
Darian's jaw flexed. "A hunter."
"Of what?"
"Of anything it can catch."
His eyes locked on hers, and she saw something there — something raw, almost pained.
"And tonight," he added softly, "it wanted you."
Sophia's breath hitched.
"Why?" she asked.
His voice dropped lower. "Because you walked into its territory this morning. You smelled like the forest. Like winter. Like fear."
She shivered. "So it followed me?"
"It stalked you."
The fire crackled loudly in the background, but she hardly heard it.
"Then why did you chase it away?" she whispered.
His eyes darkened. "Because it wasn't the only thing that followed you today."
Sophia's pulse thumped."What else?"
Darian stepped closer. So close she could feel the heat of his breath brushing her cheek. His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Me."
The word punched heat through her entire body.
Before she could speak, he lifted a hand — slowly, giving her time to pull away — and brushed his thumb along her jaw. A gesture too gentle, too careful, for someone who had just fought a monster in the dark.
Her knees nearly buckled.
"I didn't follow you to hunt you," he murmured. "I followed you because something is shifting around you, Sophia. And I won't let anything take you."
"Why?" The word came out fragile, breathless. "Why me?"
His thumb lingered at the corner of her mouth.
"Because the night doesn't call ordinary people," he whispered. "It calls those who belong to it."
Her heart stuttered.
"And…" she breathed, "do I? Belong to it?"
He leaned in — close enough that she felt the faintest trace of heat from his lips near her ear.
"I don't know," he murmured. "But I know this: you belong to something that wants you back. And I intend to find out why before it claims you."
She swallowed hard."Darian…"
His breath hitched. He drew back slightly — not away from her, but to look at her fully. Firelight carved shadows along the strong lines of his face, highlighting the conflict burning there.
"You have no idea how dangerous it is for you to say my name like that," he whispered.
"Then tell me," she said softly, stepping closer, "what it does to you."
His eyes closed for a moment, as though her nearness tested something he'd fought to keep locked away.
When he opened them—
The fire behind her flared violently.
And something in him broke.
The fire leapt higher in the hearth, spilling gold across the room like it was reacting to him — or to the thing poised between them. The flames twisted, stretched, and roared louder, casting long shadows that flickered like restless spirits across the walls.
Darian didn't step back.He stepped closer.
Sophia felt her breath catch, suspended between fear and something deeper, something that thrummed under her skin like a second, darker heartbeat. Her pulse fluttered wildly as he lifted a hand, hovered it near her cheek… and stopped. Barely an inch from her skin.
He wasn't touching her.Not quite.
But she felt the heat of him anyway, rolling off him like waves.
"You shouldn't be this close to me," he said, voice low, hoarse.
"Then why aren't you moving?" she whispered.
His jaw tightened.
"Because something about you makes it impossible."
Her lips parted. He noticed — she saw it in the way his gaze flicked down, in the way his breath stuttered just slightly.
The shadows wrapped around them like a cocoon.
Sophia swallowed. "What… happened out there? With the creature?"
Darian's eyes sharpened, as though dragged back from a precipice. "It won't be a problem again."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"It wasn't a question you should ask."
"Darian—"
"It wasn't human," he snapped softly, a flash of worry and frustration cracking through his control. "That's all you need to know."
Sophia stared at him. "You fought it."
"Yes."
"And you look… fine."
"Do you sound disappointed?" His tone was a dangerous tease, but there was something raw underneath it.
"I'm trying to understand what you are."
He met her gaze without flinching.
"I am something that can keep you alive," he said. "For now, that has to be enough."
Her pulse stumbled. "For now?"
He brushed past her, moving toward the window, and the shift in his aura was almost physical — predator replacing protector, focus tightening like a blade. He peered outside, scanning the tree line.
Sophia watched him.
The way he held himself wasn't like any human she'd ever seen — perfectly balanced, perfectly aware, like he could hear every shift in the forest's breathing.
"Stop looking at me like that," he said without turning.
"Like what?"
"Like you're trying to read me."
"Maybe I am."
He exhaled a quiet, humorless laugh. "You won't like what you find."
"Let me be the judge of that."
He finally turned back to her — and for the first time, something in his eyes wavered. A crack. A fracture. A glimpse of something that looked almost like… fear.
Not of the creature.Not of the forest.
Of himself.
"I told you," he said quietly, "I heard you the first night you came here."
Sophia stepped closer. "Tell me how."
He hesitated.
"You won't believe me."
"Try me."
His throat worked.
"There's something in you," he said slowly. "Something that vibrates against the night. A resonance. A… pull."
"A pull toward what?"
His voice deepened.
"Toward me."
The words hit her like a hand gripping her spine.
Her breath caught. "Darian…"
"You don't understand what that means," he said, stepping closer again. "If you keep standing there, looking at me like that… I won't be able to pretend I can stay away from you."
He was close enough now that she felt the warmth of his breath. Her heart pounded against her ribs.
"I don't want you to stay away," she whispered.
His eyes closed briefly. Pain flickered across his face.
"You should."
"But I don't."
"You should," he repeated, voice tearing at the edges, "because I am losing control around you."
Her pulse skidded.Heat rose.The air thickened like the world itself leaned in.
Sophia reached out — slowly — and brushed her fingertips along his coat sleeve. Barely a touch.
He shuddered.
Not in fear.In restraint.
"Sophia…" he breathed, voice cracking like it hadn't been used for something soft in years. "Don't."
"Why not?"
"Because I am not safe."
She stepped closer anyway.
"You saved me."
"That's not the same as being harmless."
"Then tell me what you are."
He looked at her for a long, agonizing moment — as if weighing the entire world against the truth sealed behind his teeth.
Then—
Something slammed into the wall outside.
Sophia jumped.The entire house shook.
Darian whirled toward the window, posture snapping instantly into lethal readiness.
"No," he hissed. "It wasn't alone."
A second crash. Louder. Closer.
"Get behind me."
She obeyed without thinking.
Darian moved toward the door with a speed that should've been impossible — like the air bent around him to let him pass. The fire surged behind them, flames stretching toward him as if drawn to his heat.
Outside, something scraped against the wood, slow and deliberate.
Sophia pressed a hand to her mouth.
"Does it know you're here?" she whispered.
"It knows you are," Darian said darkly.
Her stomach dropped.
"Why me?"
"Because you heard its call."
"I didn't—"
"You did," he said sharply, turning toward her. "The night you arrived. The scream from the forest? That wasn't a warning. It wasn't a threat."
"What was it?"
"A summoning."
Her blood froze.
"You woke something," he said, stepping toward her. "Something old. Something hungry."
Sophia shook her head. "I didn't mean—"
"It doesn't matter what you meant."
The thing outside dragged its claws across the wood, carving deep grooves.
Darian's eyes flared — bright, unnatural, blazing.
"I'm not letting it touch you," he growled.
Sophia felt the room vibrate with the force of it.
"Darian," she whispered, "what are you going to do?"
"Whatever I have to," he said, voice low, deadly, "to keep you breathing."
Another slam, harder this time.
The hinges strained.
Sophia grabbed his arm. "You can't go out there alone again."
His eyes snapped to hers — and she saw it, the crack in him widening. Something fierce and terrifying and beautiful breaking through.
"I'm not afraid of them," he said.
"What are you afraid of?"
His chest rose sharply.
"You," he breathed.
Her lips parted. "Me?"
He lifted a hand — hovered it near her cheek again, but this time his fingers trembled.
"You're the only thing I can't fight," he murmured.
Then the door strained again — a splintering crack echoing through the house.
Darian's head turned sharply.
"It's now or never," he whispered.
Sophia grabbed his coat. "Don't leave me."
He froze.
For the second time tonight, something human flickered across his expression — something he'd been fighting, denying, choking down.
He leaned his forehead against hers for a breath, a single stolen moment in the storm.
"You don't know what you're asking," he whispered.
"I know you're the only one who can protect me."
His breath shook.
"And that," he said, "is exactly the problem."
The door buckled inward.
Darian's eyes snapped open — blazing.
"Stay behind the fire," he commanded. "And whatever happens — don't run."
Then he turned.
Stepped forward.
And the night swallowed him whole.
The door slammed behind Darian as he stepped out into the night, and for a heartbeat, the silence that followed was absolute—a vacuum where even fear held its breath.
Sophia stood exactly where he left her, trembling, staring at the threshold he had crossed.
Then she felt it.
A pulse.
Not from outside.From inside her.
A thrum, low and magnetic, like something under her skin recognized him out there—fighting for her—and reached toward him without permission.
The fire in the hearth cracked sharply, flames twisting higher, licking the air with sudden hunger.
Sophia stumbled back, clutching her chest.
"Darian…" she whispered, even though he was gone.
The wind howled. Something shrieked in the treeline. Something else answered.
Then—
A heavy footstep.
Another.
The door burst open, and Darian stood framed in the entryway, shoulders rising and falling like he'd been running at supernatural speed. Snow clung to his coat, his hair, his eyelashes—small white ghosts melting on his skin.
His eyes—God, his eyes—were bright and wild, lit from the inside with something feral.
"The others ran," he said, voice low, rough. "But they won't stay away for long."
Sophia barely heard the words.
She was staring at him.
At the way he leaned on the doorframe, chest heaving, as though he was fighting something inside himself even harder than the creatures.
He slammed the door shut behind him, turning the lock with a decisive snap.
Then he turned to her.
The room pulsed.
So did her heartbeat.
"Are you hurt?" she whispered.
His jaw flexed. "No."
But he didn't move.
He just stared at her, as though the sight of her undid him more than any monster lurking in the dark.
Sophia took a step toward him.
He didn't breathe.
Another step.
His hands curled at his sides like he was desperate to keep them there.
When she reached him, she lifted one hand—
And touched his cheek.
Snow melted beneath her fingers.
Darian inhaled sharply, like the touch burned him.
"You shouldn't," he murmured.
"I want to."
He closed his eyes. "That's what terrifies me."
Sophia slid her fingers down his jaw, feeling the tension vibrating through him.
"You went out there for me."
His eyes opened. Hungry. Shadowed.
"I would go anywhere for you."
The air between them shimmered with heat.
Sophia's breath hitched. "Darian…"
He moved.
Not fast. Not aggressive.Just… decisive.
His hand wrapped around her waist, warm and strong, drawing her closer until she could feel the shape of him—solid, trembling, barely restrained. His other hand rose to her face, thumb brushing her lip, slow enough to steal her breath, soft enough to make her knees weaken.
"You don't know what I'm fighting," he said, voice barely a whisper.
"Then stop fighting," she breathed.
A low sound escaped him—half growl, half plea.
Sophia leaned in.
So did he.
Their foreheads touched first—gentle, reverent. His breath mingled with hers, warm and uneven. She felt the heat of him through his coat, through her clothing, through every barrier that suddenly felt unbearable.
"You're shaking," she whispered.
"So are you."
"Because of you."
His grip on her waist tightened—not possessively, but desperately, like he feared she might vanish if he didn't hold on.
"Sophia…" he murmured, voice breaking. "If I touch you any more than this, I won't be able to stop."
She swallowed. "Do you want to stop?"
His answer was immediate.
"No."
The word hit her like a spark.
She slid her hand to the back of his neck, pulling him down toward her.
He didn't resist.
His lips met hers in a slow, devastating kiss—one that felt like a confession, a surrender, and a warning all at once. Heat surged between them, an electric pull that made the room spin.
He kissed her like he had waited for this, feared this, needed this more than breath itself.
Her hands tangled in his hair.His fingers spread across her back, drawing her closer, closer, until there was no space left between them.
The kiss deepened, growing darker, hungrier. His lips trailed to her jaw, her throat, reverent and trembling, as though each touch was a battle he both won and lost.
He pressed her gently against the wall—not trapping, but enveloping—his forehead resting against her shoulder as he gasped for control.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered.
"I can't."
"Then I'm lost."
He kissed her again—slow and burning, a promise and a danger intertwined. Her breath hitched as his hands slid along her waist, her sides, tracing her shape with a tenderness at odds with the storm in his eyes.
His mouth found the hollow of her neck, lingering, savoring.
Sophia's fingers curled in his shirt.
His voice dropped to a murmur against her skin.
"You feel like fire."
"And you feel like… everything."
He shuddered.
For a moment—just one—he lifted her slightly, drawing her closer, his strength effortless, his touch sure. She felt the tension in him, the want, the restraint stretched thin as glass.
"Sophia," he breathed, "I want—"
She cupped his face, guiding him back to her lips.
"I know."
The kiss that followed was deeper, slower, almost devouring in its intensity—not rushed, not explicit, but unbearably intimate.
Their breaths mingled.Bodies pressed close.The world blurred.
And just when the moment reached its breaking point—
A violent CRACK split the night outside.
Darian froze against her, muscles tensing beneath her hands.
Sophia's breath trembled. "What was that?"
He pulled back just enough to look at her—eyes still dark with desire, but now sharpened with fear.
"They're back."
He set her down gently.
Then he kissed her once more—soft, lingering, a promise he wasn't ready to break.
"Stay behind the fire," he whispered.
"What about you?"
His thumb brushed her lip, tender, possessive.
"I'll come back to finish what we started."
Then he turned toward the door—toward the darkness waiting to tear them apart.
The crack outside echoed again, but this time…Darian didn't move.
He stood in front of the door like a man torn in two directions—duty pulling him one way, desire the other. Snow melted on his shoulders. His breath was still uneven from the way he had kissed her, from the way she had answered him.
Sophia didn't step back.She stepped closer.
"Darian," she whispered, voice trembling but sure, "stay."
His eyes closed as if the word was a blade.
"You don't understand what you're asking."
"Yes," she breathed, touching his chest. "I do."
He opened his eyes.
What she saw there wasn't human hunger.It was older.Deeper.Like centuries of restraint finally cracking open.
"Sophia…" he warned, though it came out as a plea.
She rose onto her toes, brushing her lips against his. "You said you couldn't stop. Then don't."
Whatever fragile restraint he had left snapped with a soundless, shuddering surrender.
In the next breath, he pulled her into him—firm, urgent, but still impossibly gentle, as though she was something sacred he'd been denied his entire life.
His mouth claimed hers, not with the fear of earlier, but with the fierce certainty of a man choosing her over everything else, including the monsters clawing at the night.
Sophia melted into him, fingers gripping his coat, his shirt, anywhere she could anchor herself as the world narrowed to the heat of his body and the storm in his kiss.
Darian exhaled a broken sound against her lips.Not pain.Not relief.Something deeper.
His hands slid along her back, her waist, pulling her impossibly close, pressing her against him as if trying to memorize every line of her. His forehead dropped to hers, breathing her in like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
"I can't think," he whispered."Good," she whispered back.
He let out a soft, shaky laugh—a sound she'd never heard from him before, warm and disarmed and devastating.
"Tell me you want this," he said, voice dark silk.
"I want you," she said without hesitation.
That was it.
That was the moment the night changed.
Darian kissed her again—slow at first, then deeper, hungrier, his hands tracing her sides with a reverence that made her knees weaken. He lifted her slightly, effortlessly, as though her body weighed nothing to him. Her fingers tangled in his hair, drawing him down, both of them losing themselves in the heat pulling them together.
The fire behind them blazed higher, casting their shadows in one merging shape on the wall.
They moved together without thought, without fear, with a heat that felt fated. His touch grew bolder, hers more certain, their breaths mingling in broken, trembling patterns that spoke louder than words.
He kissed her neck, her shoulder, her jaw, each touch more desperate, more tender, more inevitable.
"Sophia," he murmured against her skin, "I've fought every instinct since the moment you arrived."
Her voice trembled. "Then stop fighting."
He lifted his head, eyes molten.
"Then come with me," he whispered.
He guided her toward the room behind the flickering firelight, each step slow, deliberate, charged. Their hands stayed locked, breaths uneven, bodies drawn like magnets.
When the door closed softly behind them, the world outside ceased to exist.
No monsters.No darkness.Just them.
Darian cupped her face with both hands.
"If we cross this line," he said softly, "I won't ever let you go."
She leaned into his touch. "Good."
His lips found hers again—this time tender, almost reverent. His hands moved with a certainty softened by awe, hers answering in kind. Clothing shifted, breaths deepened, tension melted into heat.
They held each other like two people who had lived whole lives waiting for this one moment.
And when his forehead pressed to hers, when their breaths aligned and the world narrowed to warmth and trust and hunger—
They crossed that line together.
No fear.No hesitation.Just two souls choosing to intertwine.
The firelight flickered softly against the closed door.
And the night outside finally fell silent.