Elena – First Person POV---

I couldn’t sleep.

Not after the way he looked at me.

It hadn’t been hatred. But it hadn’t been warmth either. It was something between confusion and distance. Like I was a stranger who had stepped into a life I didn’t belong in. And yet… when our eyes met, something deep in my chest shifted. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

His eyes were gold. Sharp. Burning.

Like fire trapped behind ice.

And they were the same eyes I had seen that night in the woods.

---

I stayed in bed long after the sun rose, lying still, watching the dust dance in the pale light through the window. I didn’t want to eat. I didn’t want to talk. I just… felt heavy.

My shoulder ached faintly. The mark was no longer painful, but it never let me forget it was there. Sometimes it pulsed in time with my heartbeat. Other times, it burned without warning, like something was reaching for me from far away.

And this morning, it felt stronger than ever...

Like something was calling me.

---

I got dressed in silence and left the room.

No one stopped me. They never did. Maybe I was just another shadow in the hall to them.

My feet moved on their own, turning corners I hadn’t meant to turn, passing doors I hadn’t opened before. Every hallway looked the same, tall windows, cold stone, faded tapestries, but this time, something felt different.

I passed the entrance to the West Wing. I felt the cold drift out from behind the locked gate, but I didn’t stop. I kept going. And that’s when I saw it.

A narrow hallway, tucked behind a heavy curtain I hadn’t noticed before.

It was small. Dark. Quiet.

Curiosity whispered louder than my fear.

I slipped behind the curtain and walked down the corridor.

---

At the end was a single wooden door. No lock. Just a metal latch and a silence that rang in my ears.

I hesitated. Then I pushed it open.

The air inside was stale, as if no one had entered in years. Dust floated in long streaks of sunlight from the single tall window. The room was a bedroom, feminine, soft in design, but untouched. The furniture was still in place: a canopy bed draped in faded silks, a small vanity with a broken mirror, a dresser with a cracked handle.

And on the wall, above the fireplace, hung a painting.

A she-wolf.

Silver eyes. Pale fur. Regal posture. Sadness in her gaze.

I stepped closer.

And then… it hit me.

---

My knees buckled.

A wave of heat rushed through my chest, spreading out in every direction. My breath hitched. My heart began to race. The mark on my shoulder burned, pulsed, ached.

I clutched the bedpost for balance. My vision blurred. My skin felt too tight.

What was happening to me?

I sank to my knees on the dusty rug, gasping. The air felt thick. My body trembled. The room spun.

I didn’t feel alone anymore.

---

A sharp energy thrummed inside me, raw, magnetic. My hand brushed against the bed’s velvet edge, and the second I touched it, something inside snapped.

My mark blazed like fire.

I heard a voice in my head. Or maybe it was in my blood.

He’s coming.

---

Before I could move, before I could even stand, I heard it.

Bootsteps. Hard. Fast. Furious.

I turned slowly, still on my knees, and there he was.

Draven.

Framed in the doorway, black clothes, golden eyes lit like embers, chest rising and falling as if he had run from the other side of the estate.

He looked… wild.

Dangerous.

Alive.

His gaze swept over the room, then locked on me. He didn’t blink.

I didn’t speak.

Neither of us moved.

The air between us crackled. The bond screamed.

He looked like sin carved from shadow, tall, sharp, and untouchable. His clothes were dark, his jaw clenched, and those golden eyes held me like a prisoner. He didn’t need to speak to command a room. His presence was enough. Heavy. Dominant. My breath caught in my throat, and I hated the way my body reacted to him. My pulse throbbed in places I didn’t want to think about. My skin felt too warm, too tight, like he could see straight through me to every unspoken thought, every unshaped desire. I didn’t understand why. I didn’t even know him. And yet… my body knew him. My mark knew him. The air between us was thick with something I didn’t have a name for, something hot and restless and electric. Was this the mate bond? This heat that crawled over my skin, this ache low in my belly, this strange need to move toward him even as my mind screamed to run? I should’ve felt humiliated, kneeling on the floor like I had no power, but the look in his eyes told me I had too much. And that terrified me more than anything.

And I realized, in that moment, something had changed.

I didn’t know if I was supposed to be afraid…

Or if part of me wanted to stay exactly where I was on my knees, breathing in the scent of him, with his mark still burning beneath my skin.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His voice was deep and quiet, more tired than angry. Not warm, but not cruel, either. Just… guarded. I didn’t flinch, but the way he said it made my chest tighten. Like I’d stepped on something sacred. Or broken a rule I didn’t know existed. He looked at me for a long second, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable then let out a slow breath, like he was trying to calm something inside himself. “This room isn’t safe for you,” he said finally, and there was something almost… conflicted in the way he said it. Not a warning. Not a threat. A truth. He glanced once more at the mark on my shoulder, and for a split second, his expression cracked, pain, guilt, something I couldn’t name. And then it was gone. “Go back to your room, Elena.” My name on his lips made everything inside me twist. And though he didn’t raise his voice or look back again, I left, feeling like I had just touched something far more dangerous than I could ever understand.