The night had fallen heavy and dark, pressing down on Ayra's shoulders like a weight that refused to lift. Her muscles ached, her body was bruised in places she didn't even realize, and the bond—it never let her forget him, never let her feel anything other than him. Every time Alric moved, she felt it in her chest. Every heartbeat of his pressed against her own, forcing her awareness into him whether she wanted it or not. She hated it. She hated how alive it made every nerve, how impossible it was to ignore. And yet, she couldn't stop noticing, couldn't stop feeling.
He moved ahead, silent and precise, like a shadow that had grown teeth. Every step was measured. Every sense alert. The bond jerked sharply, and she had no choice but to follow, to match his pace, to be part of him even when she didn't want to be. She stumbled once, barely catching herself, and he was there before she could even register fear, catching her arm, pressing her close. The heat flared in her chest, a fire that had nothing to do with running. She wanted to pull away. She really did. But the bond didn't care about her wishes. It demanded attention, awareness, closeness, and she realized just how little control she had over it.
"Careful," Alric murmured, his voice low and unyielding. His dark eyes found hers, and that gaze—it twisted something in her stomach, made it impossible to breathe normally. She opened her mouth, started to say something, but the bond surged again, sharp and violent, shoving her awareness straight into him. He wasn't just nearby. He was inside her senses, inside her skin, a constant presence that left her pulse stuttering. Dangerous, electric, unavoidable.
Shadows shifted ahead. Movement, subtle but deliberate, made both of them snap their heads toward it. Someone—or something—was coming. The faint scrape of boots on rubble, the whisper of cloth. Alric's hand shot to hers, gripping tightly. Just the contact made her chest jump, made her pulse spike in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
They rolled behind a toppled wall just in time. Her chest pressed against his, a little too firmly, and she could feel the heat radiating from him. The bond pulsed like fire, demanding attention, forcing every thought into awareness of him. She swallowed hard, trying to focus on anything else—the intruders, the ruined streets, the echoing distant shouts—but it was impossible. Every pulse of his heartbeat, every tense line of muscle, every subtle brush of skin made her shiver involuntarily.
Alric leaned close to her ear, low and rough. "Stay with me." Her breath hitched. She wanted to focus on survival, wanted to act like nothing else existed, but the bond tangled her thoughts. Desire and fear tangled together until she couldn't tell them apart.
The attackers moved faster. Energy crackled through the air, sharp and violent. Alric reacted instantly, shielded her, pushed her down and rolled to the side. She mirrored him, muscles responding before her brain could catch up. Every movement pressed them together, shoulder against shoulder, side against side, and the bond flared hotter, sharper, demanding attention, demanding awareness.
Her hand brushed against his chest while she ducked. She gasped, heat flaring to her cheeks. The warmth, the strength, the tension under her fingers—it was impossible to ignore. He didn't pull away. He pressed just a little closer, covering her hand, steadying it, and his growl—low, rough, authoritative—sent another pulse of awareness straight through her. Focus, he said, and yet there was something softer behind it that made her pulse race.
The attackers withdrew suddenly, leaving only the echo of their retreating footsteps. Ayra's mind spun. She couldn't tell if it was from exertion, the bond, or the lingering heat of his body pressed against hers. Every nerve in her body seemed alive. Every inch of her skin hummed with the memory of contact. She couldn't pretend she hadn't felt it. She couldn't pretend she hadn't wanted it.
"You're trembling," Alric said quietly, not a command this time, just an observation.
"It's… the bond," she admitted, voice shaking. "And… you. It's too much."
He didn't move away. The bond pulsed, insistent, alive. She felt every shift in his posture, every heartbeat, every subtle controlled movement. Heat pooled in her chest and stomach. She knew she should step back. She wanted to. She told herself that a dozen times. But the bond didn't care about logic. It demanded closeness, connection, awareness.
For a long moment, they just stood. Breathing hard. Pressed together. Too aware of each other. The ruined street, the darkness, the distant cries—none of it existed except the bond and the heat, the tension, the electricity between them.
Alric leaned closer, voice dropping low and intimate. "It forces connection. Forces feeling. Forces… this."
Her throat was dry. Her heart raced. "You feel it too," she whispered, almost afraid of her own words.
"Yes," he admitted softly. The bond pulsed sharply, acknowledging the truth. He shifted slightly, brushing her hand again, deliberate this time. Heat flared through her chest, through her stomach, and she could barely think. Step back, she wanted to tell herself. Step back. But she couldn't. The bond had her in its grip, and it wasn't letting go.
Then a shout cut through the night. The moment shattered. Danger wasn't gone. Both of them froze, chest heaving, aware that what had almost happened would have to wait. Survival first. Always survival first.
Alric's hand lingered near hers, skin brushing lightly, reminding her that the connection remained, humming beneath the tension. "Later," he muttered, almost to himself. "First survive. Then… this will have its way."
Ayra nodded, though she could barely catch her breath. Cheeks burning, pulse racing. The bond wasn't done with them, and neither was the night. Not yet.
Even as they moved through the shadows, side by side, alert, cautious, she realized something terrifying and exhilarating. The bond wasn't just magic. It was awareness, hunger, connection, control, and it demanded everything from both of them. She didn't know if she could resist it. She didn't know if she wanted to. And maybe that was the most dangerous thing of all.