THREE
1411 Words
Lira didn’t sleep after leaving The Hollow. Her body trembled with magic that no longer obeyed her and a heat she couldn’t name. Every breath she took since returning to her apartment was marked with the aftertaste of his presence - like crushed velvet and iron. Like power disguised as promise.
She sat on the floor, candles flickering around her, the scent of wormwood and juniper sharp in the air. Spells dripped from her lips, old ones, forbidden ones, desperate ones - but none of them reached. Her power was thinning. She could feel it.
No one in the coven had called. Not Nova. Not Mireya. That alone said everything.
They were watching. Waiting.
She tried to meditate, tried to center herself in the old rituals, but her mind kept flashing back - not to the kiss that didn’t happen, or the fire in his eyes - but to the way he looked at her. Like he had already seen the worst parts of her and wasn’t afraid.
Like he wanted to know more.
Darian’s Estate: Midnight
The tower was quiet except for the hush of night wind brushing along the tall windows. Darian Velen stood in front of a fireplace that hadn’t been lit in decades, sleeves rolled up, veins dark against pale skin, his jaw tight.
She shouldn’t have walked away from him.
Not because it was dangerous - though it was - but because she had every right to. And yet... he hated it. He hated that she’d turned her back on him. That she hadn’t looked over her shoulder, just once.
He leaned forward, pressing a hand against the cold stone mantel. Her scent still clung to his shirt - something wild beneath the smoke. Magic that tasted like rebellion and rain.
Behind him, footsteps echoed.
“You’re brooding,” Sebastian said flatly, stepping into the room. “Again.”
Darian didn’t turn. “And you’re watching me too closely.”
“She’s a witch. And your interest in her isn’t casual.”
“She’s... rare,” Darian murmured. “Not in blood. In will. You saw it.”
Sebastian’s voice grew sharp. “I saw her push you. That’s not will. That’s threat.”
“Or freedom.”
“She’s dangerous.”
“So am I.”
Sebastian stepped closer. “Darian, the council will be watching. If she’s truly broken coven law, her death won’t be a punishment. It’ll be a message. You know what witches do to their own.”
Darian’s eyes flickered with something ancient. “Then they’re fools. Because she doesn’t belong to them anymore.”
####
Lira returned to The Hollow with Nova by her side, mostly because Nova wouldn’t shut up until she did.
“You haven’t stopped thinking about him,” Nova said, balancing a drink with one hand and dragging her through the crowd with the other. “It’s written all over your face. You’ve got that whole ‘I might combust at any second’ thing going on.”
“I’m fine,” Lira lied. “I just need to clear my head.”
Nova snorted. “Right. Because a club full of vampires, necromancers, and God-knows-what is the place to relax.”
But Lira wasn’t looking for peace. She was looking for proof - that she could stand in the same room as him and feel nothing.
Spoiler: She couldn’t.
He was already watching her from the second-floor balcony, black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the edges of a tattoo that glowed faintly under the club lights. His gaze pinned her like a blade.
She turned toward the bar.
“I’ll get us drinks,” she said to Nova and ducked through the crowd.
But before she reached the bartender, a hand brushed her arm.
“Leaving so soon?”
His voice curled down her spine like a spell. She turned.
Darian.
“Not at all,” she said, lifting her chin. “Enjoying the stalking?”
“Hard to ignore what stands out,” he murmured.
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not yours to follow.”
“Yet here you are. Again.”
A pause. Thick. Electric.
Lira swallowed. “Are you always this arrogant?”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “Only when I’m right.”
His nearness was a gravitational field, dark and steady. Lira could feel the pull of him, dangerous and deep - not just his body but something older, wilder beneath his skin.
“Careful,” she said, her voice low. “I bite.”
He smiled, sharp and slow. “So do I.”
Their standoff was broken by a scream - brief, distant, and quickly silenced.
Lira turned toward the sound instinctively, her hand twitching with magic that didn’t come.
Darian caught the motion. His expression shifted.
“You’re weakening.”
She flinched. “How do you-?”
“I can smell it.”
Shame bloomed in her throat. She stepped back, but he caught her wrist - gently, but firm.
“I could help.”
“You’re the problem,” she hissed. “I felt fine before you.”
“No,” he said quietly. “You were asleep before me.”
She jerked her hand away and turned into the crowd.
####
Lira needed air. Noise clawed at her thoughts. Her skin itched from energy she couldn’t release.
She stepped into the alley and leaned against the wall, eyes shut.
A minute later, she wasn’t alone.
“You don’t get to do that,” Darian said behind her.
She whirled. “Do what?”
“Walk away every time it gets inconvenient.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Maybe not. But I know power. And I know what it looks like when it’s running from itself.”
He stepped closer.
“This thing inside you? It’s not dying. It’s changing. And your coven won’t tolerate it.”
“Why do you care?” she snapped.
His gaze softened, barely. “Because I know what it is to lose everything for being what you are.”
The confession hit her like a blade. She didn’t speak for a long moment.
“You’re not helping,” she whispered.
“I’m not trying to.”
And yet… he was closer now, inches from her, the night stretching like wire between them.
Her breath caught. “I should go.”
“You won’t.”
“I can’t trust you.”
His voice was soft. “You already do.”
She wanted to deny it. She wanted to shove him, hurt him, anything to stop the ache in her chest - the ache that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with how seen she felt when he looked at her.
But she didn’t move.
He didn’t touch her. Didn’t lean in. Didn’t cross that line.
But he stayed.
And somehow, that was worse.
####
Mireya stood in front of a silver basin, water swirling inside. Reflections moved within - images of Lira at The Hollow, of her with Darian, of her power dimming.
Behind her, cloaked witches whispered.
“She’s breaking.”
“She’s choosing him.”
“She must be punished.”
Mireya raised a hand. The room went silent.
“No,” she said. “Not yet.”
“Why wait?” one asked.
“Because sometimes, the most dangerous witch isn’t the one who breaks the rules. It’s the one who makes a new one.”
The Hollow: Rooftop
Lira stood at the edge of the rooftop, breathing in the city. Below, magic shimmered like heat rising off asphalt - invisible to humans, but she could still taste it. Barely.
“You look like you’re going to jump,” Darian said, stepping beside her.
She didn’t flinch this time.
“Would it matter if I did?”
“To someone.”
He looked out with her, the silence between them not awkward, just alive.
She glanced at him. “You could make me forget all of this, couldn’t you? Just a word. A bite.”
“I could,” he said. “But I won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to change what’s real. I want to see if it chooses me anyway.”
That silenced her.
And in that silence, something shifted.
Not a kiss.
Not a touch.
But a knowing.
Something too big for either of them to say.
- Writer
