blood bond 🩸

SHADOWS THAT WHISPER

Elara sat frozen in the library, gripping the old book as though it held the last remnants of her sanity.

Marked.

Bound.

A thirst that will never die.

Her mind screamed at her to deny it, to tear the pages apart and call it fiction.

But she couldn’t.

Because deep down, she felt it.

Every night since the Blood Moon rose, something had been changing inside her. The way her pulse no longer beat the same. The way water burned her throat. The way shadows seemed to stretch and whisper whenever she walked past them.

And then there was him.

Tristan.

The moment she saw him under the streetlight, she knew—he was connected to her.

She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling the slow, unnatural rhythm of her heart.

What had he done to her?

She needed answers.

And she had a feeling she wouldn’t find them in a book.

---

Elara left the library just as the sun dipped below the horizon.

The cold evening air clung to her skin, but she barely noticed.

Her thoughts were tangled, replaying every moment since her first nightmare, every whisper of Tristan’s voice in the back of her mind.

She had to find him.

Or he would find her first.

As she turned onto a quieter street, the distant hum of the city faded. The streetlamps above flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to breathe.

She tightened her grip on her bag.

Something felt off.

Then she heard it.

Footsteps.

Not behind her.

Above.

Her breath hitched as she lifted her gaze.

A figure stood on the rooftop, silhouetted against the darkening sky.

Tristan.

Her pulse jumped.

Before she could react, he vanished.

Then—

"You shouldn’t be out here alone."

The voice came from behind her. Smooth. Deep. A whisper against her ear.

Elara spun around—

And he was there.

Too close.

His dark eyes gleamed under the streetlights, watching her like a predator that had finally cornered its prey.

"Looking for me?" Tristan murmured.

Her breath caught in her throat. She should have run. She should have screamed. But she couldn’t move.

Because when he stepped forward, her body reacted as if it knew him.

As if it had always known him.

"What have you done to me?" she whispered.

Tristan exhaled, gaze lowering to her throat. "Nothing you weren’t already destined for."

Elara clenched her fists. "I don’t believe in destiny."

His lips curled into something almost… amused.

"Then why are you here?"

The question sliced through her resolve.

She didn’t know.

Or maybe, deep down, she did.

And that terrified her more than anything else.