Weeks blurred into months, the rhythm of Lilith and Jackson’s secret life a delicate balance that teetered on the edge of the mate bond’s relentless pull. Their arrangement—stolen moments in hidden corners, midnight visits through her window—offered just enough relief to navigate the days, but it never fully quenched the fire that burned between them. The bond was a living entity, demanding more with each passing hour, its intensity amplified by Lilith’s hybrid nature and Lirien’s possessive instincts. At night, in the safety of her gothic room under the eclipse painting, they lost themselves in passionate embraces, whispers of love, and the electric thrill of their bodies entwined. But by day, the world demanded pretense, a cruel game that left Lilith aching, her ruby eyes flicking toward
