Immortal Hunger

Tempting Fate

​The sedan engine died. Wet fog hissed against the glass.

​San Francisco swallowed the night whole. Aleksandra sat frozen with both hands locked onto the steering wheel, knuckles stark white. Air dragged through her throat in short, useless gasps. Close her eyes and the fog vanished, replaced instantly by sandalwood, rain, and the scorching, raw weight of Hunter Valerian pinning her to the stone steps.

​Get it together. Teeth ground together until her jaw ached. Put the armor back on.

​She shoved the door open, stepping straight into the damp chill.

​Inside, the foyer flooded her senses with gold light, dry heat, and the heavy smell of roasted chicken. Crystal glasses clinked from the dining room over low, comfortable laughter.

​David met her in the entry hall. Navy sweater, crisp collar, perfect hair. Safe harbor.

​„Hey,“ he murmured, stepping in to take her blazer. Lips brushed her cheek in a dry, routine kiss. „Traffic bad coming down the valley?“

​„A little. Made good time though.“ A paper-thin smile stretched over the wild rhythm hammering her throat.

​„Good. Everyone’s starving.“

​The mahogany table was laid out like an exhibition. Her parents shared pinot noir with David’s mother and father. Her brother Oliver sat at the head in a tailored suit, already stepping effortlessly into their father’s shoes to run the family's real estate empire.

​This room was bedrock. Shared dinners, joint holdings, decades of tightly sealed deals. Oliver managing; David holding the financial link binding both families together. And her mother’s relentless, quiet whispers since Aleksandra turned sixteen about sealing the ultimate alliance.

​Aleksandra slid into her chair beside David. Hands balled into tight fists under the white linen, nails biting deep into her palms.

​Safe. Normal. Love isn't supposed to burn you alive.

​Yet in Napa, pinned against Hunter’s heavy chest, she had forgotten everything—career, parents, mapped-out future. The memory turned her stomach sick.

​Dessert plates cleared. David set his wine glass down with a sharp clatter against porcelain.

​He reached into his jacket pocket. A black velvet box hit the table with a soft, heavy thud.

​„We've waited long enough,“ David said, flashing an effortless, practiced smile. He flipped the latch. The diamond caught the chandelier light—huge, colorless, blinding. „Aleksandra, let's make this official.“

​Silence slammed the room. Oliver raised his glass with a slow nod. Her father beamed.

​Her throat locked. Air refused to pass. Everything shrank into a suffocating tunnel.

​One. Two. Three seconds.

​Under the tablecloth, fingers clamped around her forearm. Her mother’s nails bit straight through the fabric until skin stung.

​„Say yes, Alex,“ her mother hissed through a locked, frozen smile. „Don't you dare embarrass us.“

​Brutal pressure on her wrist.

​Aleksandra swallowed dry dust. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

​„Yes,“ she forced out. It tasted like copper.

​Explosive cheering broke out. David slid the cold metal band over her knuckle. His lips pressed against hers—dry, familiar, heavy with absolute ownership.

​Twenty minutes later, Aleksandra forced her way through the French doors to the back patio. Cold air bit her face, wet and sharp, doing nothing to cool the sickening fever under her skin.

​Footsteps clicked hard against wet flagstones behind her.

​Her mother stepped into the garden, silk shawl pulled tight.

​„You look like you're attending a funeral, Aleksandra,“ her mother snapped, tone sharp as broken glass. „Smiles inside. Now.“

​Aleksandra whirled around, thrusting out her left hand. The diamond caught the yellow patio light, heavy and alien.

​„How can I be sure this is right?“ Aleksandra gasped, voice raw and shaking. „Tell me, Mom. How?“

​Her mother stopped dead. „He just gave you a three-carat ring.“

​„I feel safe with him, fine!“ Her fingers curled into a white-knuckled fist around the metal. „But marriage means wanting someone where you can't breathe without them! Where is the passion, Mom?“

​Her mother’s jaw set into iron.

​„David doesn't support me,“ Aleksandra pushed forward, closing the distance step by step. „He doesn't inspire me. He takes me for granted. Treats me like custom furniture for his living room!“

​„Stop this embarrassing drama right now,“ her mother commanded, dropping into a low, lethal rumble. „Life isn't a trashy romance novel. Passion burns out in three months. Security lasts. Position. Oliver taking over the firm while our families stay bound.“

​„I don't care about the firm—“

​Crack.

​An open palm struck her cheek before the words finished leaving her lips.

​The force whipped her head sideways. Wet air stung hot, swollen skin.

​Her mother stood inches away, arm half-raised, breathing hard through white nostrils. Her face an impenetrable slate of ice.

​„You will care,“ her mother whispered, every syllable laced with steel. „Oliver’s position is on the line. Our entire backing depends on this union. You don't get to ruin everything over a pathetic, childish crisis. Put that smile back on your face, marry David, and grow into it. Am I clear?“

​Aleksandra didn't move. Fingertips pressed against her burning cheek, the diamond biting sharply into her skin.

​Her mother turned on her heel and walked inside, glass doors shutting with a final, echoing click.

​Aleksandra stood alone in the dark. Cold stone seeped straight through her flats. She lifted her hand, tasting copper on her split inner lip. The diamond wasn't a promise. It was a lock on a cage.

​By midnight, the apartment was dead silent. David had dropped her off with a lukewarm kiss, disappearing back into the fog.

​Aleksandra stood in the dark hallway, coat still on, her back pressed hard against the wooden front door. Her cheek throbbed with dull, sickening heat.

​She stared down at her left hand in the faint blue window light. The heavy diamond glinted back—cold, rigid, suffocating.

​A safe box. Custom furniture.

​Her whole body trembled. Trapped in a net closing for years.

​Her phone buzzed in her pocket, stabbing the hall with a sharp white glow.

​Incoming Call: Hunter Valerian

​Aleksandra’s breath caught. Her thumb hovered above the green icon, her pulse hammering violently while the cold diamond pressed heavy against her skin.