The Lie That Bound Us.

Chapter 5

I could feel his presence before I heard anything.

Alaric was always close to me, always aware of me in ways that I could never explain. The shadows within the room seemed to be heavier when he was near, as if the darkness itself was attracted to something about him. My heartbeat was pounding hard within my chest, so loud that I knew he could hear it.

“Stay behind me,” he whispered. The tone of his voice was low, commanding, yet soft for something he was saying to me. The way he said it sent shivers down my spine. I stayed behind him without even thinking about it, allowing him to position himself between me and the door.

The noise on the other side of the door continued, growing louder. There were shouts and running footsteps within the building. My stomach was twisting with a mix of fear and anticipation that I could not separate. All of my nerves were screaming to run, to find a safe place to hide, yet I was staying by his side, attracted to the heat that he was radiating.

“You’re trembling,” he said softly, almost mockingly, and I hated myself for confessing it. My voice caught in my throat, but I couldn’t hide it. Not from him.

“I’m… I’m scared,” I whispered.

He didn’t react. Didn’t judge me. Just reached for me—just enough to brush a hand along my arm. Light, almost casual, and yet it made my blood seethe.

“You shouldn’t be,” he said softly. “Not while I’m here.”

His words were a promise. A warning. And I felt both terrified and comforted all at once.

The rattling ceased. Silence reigned again, heavy and oppressive. Time ticked by, stretching my nerves taut. I felt him watching the door, poised and lethal, ready to strike if needed. I felt tiny next to him, my hands locked tightly in front of me, my body responding to him in ways I was not supposed to acknowledge.

“You shouldn’t be this aware of me,” I whispered, almost ashamed of the heat crawling through me.

His gaze swept over me, dark and intense, as if he could see every secret I’d buried inside myself. “I notice everything,” he said. “Everything you try to hide.”

My stomach fluttered. My chest tightened. The way he said it, the confidence in his voice, made me feel like I had no choice but to lean into him, even if I wanted to resist.

And yet… I wanted to.

I wanted to feel him close. I wanted to feel his control, his power, the way he owned the space around him and, somehow, the way he owned a part of me too.

I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes on the floor. “I… I don’t want to make things harder,” I admitted softly.

He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. I could smell him then—warm, faintly sharp, something intoxicating and dangerous all at once. My knees weakened slightly, and I felt the brush of his hand near mine. Not touching, but close enough that I felt it, every nerve in my body alive with anticipation.

“You make it impossible to stay indifferent,” he said. His words were almost a growl, low and intimate.

My heart skipped. I shouldn’t want him to speak that way. I shouldn’t want the heat in his voice or the closeness of him near me. But I did. I wanted it more than I wanted safety. More than I wanted to think clearly.

The door handle rattled again.

I jumped. My stomach knotted. My hands gripped each other tighter.

Alaric moved without hesitation, placing a hand lightly on my back and guiding me behind him. I obeyed instantly, pressing close to his side, feeling the strength of him solid and steady. My breath caught as his presence enveloped me, protective and consuming.

“Whatever happens,” he whispered, close to my ear, “don’t move unless I tell you.”

I nodded, my throat dry. But the heat rising inside me didn’t come from fear alone. It came from him—his words, his nearness, the way he held himself like a storm ready to break.

I could feel his eyes on me, feel the heat of them piercing through the space between us, and I wanted that. I wanted to feel that pull, that tension, that sense of danger. I wanted to feel like I was losing myself within it.

A loud crash echoed through the hall from the main area of the mansion, and my body jerked again. I moved closer to him, and he tensed, his hand brushing against my shoulder, though not quite touching. It was close enough that I could feel the heat of him. My breathing was ragged, and I knew that I wanted that more than I wanted to be safe.

“You're shaking,” he said quietly. “Do you want me to hold you?”

My lips parted slightly, and I was aware of a multitude of things going on within me. I knew that I should have said no. I knew that I should have moved away. But I didn't. I couldn't. My heart was betraying me, my body was betraying me, and I could feel the heat of him even closer.

“I… yes,” I whispered.

As soon as his arm wrapped around me, though, I felt a sense of security and exposure. The room felt smaller, the silence more oppressive. I could feel the tension building, not just because of the danger outside, but because of him. Because of the feel of his body against mine, his hand wrapped carefully but firmly around me. His presence alone was intoxicating.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice low.

I nodded, breathing rapidly. “Yes,” I said, admitting the truth.

“Good,” he said, his voice low and growling. “Because nothing outside that door matters. Just us. Just this moment.”

My knees went weaker. My heart pounded. Every nerve was alive, every thought centred on him. The heat, the tension, the danger—it was all intoxicating, and I found that I didn’t want it to end.

Not even when the movement appeared on the frosted glass.

I froze.

Alaric straightened beside me, watchful, defensive, his muscles tense.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered, his voice constricted.

My heart halted.

Then, the doorknob began to turn violently.

The door was trembling.

And I was certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that we were no longer alone.

I gazed at him, my eyes wide with apprehension, my breathing constricted. The passion of his eyes cut through everything else—the fear, the heat, the danger. He was prepared. I could feel it. I wanted to step back. I wanted to flee. But I couldn’t.

I was trapped by the force of his eyes, by the tension of the moment, by something within me that I wasn’t yet aware of—a force that was dark, burning, and utterly impossible to fight.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, his voice husky and intimate. “Not a step.”

And then—

The door handle rattled again, harder this time, and a shadow began to push through the frosted glass.

My pulse raced, my chest burned, and I realised something terrifying.

This was bigger than a break-in.

And I was too close to him. Too exposed.

And I wanted it.

I wanted him.

Even if it meant danger.

Even if it meant surrender.

Even if it meant everything could change in an instant.