blood bond 🩸

THE HUNGER WITHIN

Elara’s breath came in shallow gasps. The air between her and Tristan was charged, like a storm waiting to break. She wanted to step back, to create distance, but her body refused to listen.

Tristan tilted his head slightly, observing her like a puzzle he had yet to solve. Or a meal he had yet to taste.

"You feel it, don’t you?" His voice was soft, but the weight behind it was crushing.

Elara swallowed hard. "Feel what?"

His fingers twitched at his sides, gloved hands curling as though restraining himself. "The pull. The hunger."

Hunger.

The word sent a shiver through her.

Because he was right.

She had been ignoring it, pretending it wasn’t real, but it had been gnawing at her since the night she first saw him. A thirst that water could not quench. A craving that she was too afraid to name.

Elara clenched her fists. "I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I want it to stop."

Tristan let out a breath, stepping forward. "It won’t stop."

She moved back instinctively, but his hand shot out, fingers curling gently around her wrist.

Her pulse stuttered.

The moment his skin touched hers, a rush of heat, cold, and something electric flooded through her veins.

Memories that weren’t hers flickered behind her eyes.

A darkened ballroom. A whisper of silk. A promise made under a red moon.

And Tristan.

His lips near her ear, his voice softer then. "You are mine."

Elara yanked her hand free, stumbling back, chest rising and falling rapidly. "What—what was that?"

Tristan’s expression darkened. "Your memories are waking up."

Memories?

Elara shook her head violently. "No. I’ve never seen that place before. I’ve never seen—"

Her words faltered as she looked at him.

Because suddenly, she wasn’t sure.

Had she seen him before?

Had she known him before?

A deep, aching pain settled in her chest, unfamiliar yet heartbreakingly familiar.

Tristan took another step forward, and this time, she didn’t move away.

His hand reached for her again—hesitant, almost reverent.

"You were never meant to forget," he murmured.

Elara’s lips parted, but before she could speak—

A sound tore through the silence.

A low, guttural growl.

Tristan’s head snapped to the side, his entire body tensing in an instant.

Elara turned, eyes scanning the darkness beyond the streetlights. The shadows seemed to shift, pulse, breathe.

Something was there.

Watching.

Waiting.

And then—

Red eyes.

Elara’s stomach dropped as two glowing orbs emerged from the darkness, followed by a figure cloaked in shadow.

Not human.

Not Tristan.

Something else.

Tristan cursed under his breath. "They found you faster than I expected."

Elara’s heart pounded. "Who?"

The creature stepped into the dim light. Its skin was pale as death, stretched thin over sharp bones. Fangs protruded from its mouth, but unlike Tristan’s, they were jagged, hungry.

Tristan’s voice was calm, but there was a deadly edge to it.

"Run, Elara."

She didn’t need to be told twice.

She turned—and ran.

But even as her feet pounded against the pavement, she knew.

She wasn’t running away from the creature.

She was running toward something far more dangerous.

Toward him.

Toward the truth.