THE LINE BETWEEN
562 Words
Elara’s breathing was ragged. She stared at Tristan’s outstretched wrist, her mind warring with itself.
One part of her—the part still clinging to her humanity—screamed no.
The other part, the part that had tasted him once and felt the power coursing through her veins, whispered yes.
Tristan stood still, waiting, his dark eyes unreadable.
"You’re hesitating," he murmured.
Elara swallowed hard. "Because this is a choice I can’t undo."
Tristan exhaled slowly. "You crossed that line the moment you drank from me."
She flinched at his words. "I didn’t mean to."
"Doesn’t change what happened." His voice was calm, but there was something underneath it—something deeper. "And it doesn’t change what will happen next if you don’t take control."
Her hands curled into fists. The hunger clawed at her insides, relentless and cruel. It wasn’t just a craving. It was need. A pull so strong it made every other sensation—fear, guilt, even logic—fade into the background.
Her body screamed for release.
And Tristan—he was right there.
"Drink, Elara," he said, his voice low and coaxing. "Before it takes over."
She clenched her jaw. "And what happens if I do?"
Tristan’s gaze darkened. "Then you’ll know the truth."
The truth.
Elara’s pulse thundered.
She didn’t want to know.
She did.
With a sharp inhale, she reached for his wrist.
Her fingers trembled as they wrapped around his arm. His skin was warm beneath her touch, his pulse steady. He wasn’t afraid.
She didn’t understand how he could be.
Elara lifted his wrist closer to her lips, her breath shallow. The scent of his blood filled her lungs, sending a shudder through her.
Her lips parted.
Her fangs—fangs—ached with anticipation.
And then—
She hesitated.
Her grip tightened, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. This was wrong. Wasn’t it?
Tristan’s voice was barely a whisper. "You’re stronger than you think, Elara. But if you don’t drink now…"
She didn’t let him finish.
With a sharp inhale, she sank her teeth into his wrist.
A rush of heat surged through her veins.
Her body tensed, then melted into the sensation.
His blood was fire—rich, intoxicating, electric. It filled the hollowness inside her, quieting the hunger with something deeper. Something ancient.
Her fingers dug into his arm as she drank, unable to stop herself. A dizzying warmth spread through her limbs, curling around her bones, her very essence.
Tristan let out a slow exhale. He didn’t pull away.
If anything, he seemed…pleased.
"Good," he murmured.
Elara barely heard him.
Her mind was spinning, unraveling.
Memories—not hers—flashed behind her eyes.
A battlefield drenched in crimson.
A woman’s voice, lilting and cruel. You belong to me now.
A name—
"Selene."
Elara’s eyes snapped open, glowing with something new. Something other.
She wrenched herself away, gasping.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. The taste of Tristan’s blood still lingered on her tongue, but the hunger had quieted.
For now.
Tristan watched her carefully. "What did you see?"
Elara swallowed hard. "Her."
His expression darkened. "Selene."
A shiver ran down her spine. "She’s inside me, Tristan."
His gaze never wavered. "I know."
A cold dread settled in her bones.
"What happens now?" she whispered.
Tristan stepped closer, his voice quiet but firm.
"Now, you fight."
- Writer
