8

My body would tense, my breath catching in my throat as the air shifted around me.

Then, a voice.

Low.

Amused.

"You miss me."

I would jerk upright, searching the darkness, my fingers curling into the sheets.

But there was never anyone there.

Just the quiet hum of the night, the soft rustling of my own breath, and the lingering scent of something rich and intoxicating.

I told myself I was imagining it.

I had to be.

But then his touch came.

It started as a whisper against my skin—nothing more than a featherlight caress, like warm air moving over my throat.

I froze, my pulse hammering against my ribs, waiting for it to stop.

It never did.

His fingers, unseen but undeniable, trailed over my collarbone, slow and deliberate.

They followed the curve of my arm, the dip of my waist.

Heat followed in their wake, a deep, pulsing warmth that made my skin prickle.

"You feel me, don’t you?"

The voice coiled through the room, thick with amusement.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it away, but his touch only grew firmer, more real.

My breath hitched as something—someone—pressed against my back, the warmth of a body molding into mine.

His hands, strong and possessive, slid over my stomach.

I gasped, but the sound was swallowed by the darkness.

"Stop," I whispered.

A chuckle ghosted against my ear.

"You don’t want me to stop."

I did.

I had to.

But my body betrayed me.

My skin burned where he touched me, my nerves sparking to life under his invisible hands.

I turned sharply, trying to catch him—prove he was real—but there was nothing.

The space beside me was empty.

Cold.

But the sheets were still warm.

And I could still feel him.

14

CASSIAN

She was slipping.

The resistance was still there, but it was weakening—fraying at the edges like silk unraveling beneath my fingers.

Lena.

She fought me in the beginning.

The moment she sensed me, her breath would stutter, her hands gripping the sheets like a lifeline.

Her heartbeat was a frantic drum, her mind screaming denials.

But the body does not lie.

I traced my fingers along her skin, watching the way goosebumps followed.

She shivered, her lips parting ever so slightly.

She wanted me, even if she was too afraid to admit it.

The air was thick with the scent of her—the raw, dizzying mix of fear and something deeper, something darker.

Desire.

I leaned in, my lips barely brushing against her ear.

"Say my name."

She didn’t.

But she trembled.

And that was enough.

For now.

15

LENA

I woke in the dark, but I wasn’t alone.

I felt it before I even opened my eyes—a presence, thick and suffocating, pressing in from all sides.

The air was different. 

It had weight, something unseen curling around me like invisible fingers, threading through my hair, brushing against my skin.

The room was silent, but not empty.

I could feel it.

Something watching.

Something waiting.

My breathing hitched, throat tightening as if invisible hands were already wrapped around it, squeezing.

A slow dread slithered through my chest, coiling like a living thing inside my ribs.

I wasn’t dreaming.

I knew I wasn’t dreaming.

A whisper of warmth against my leg.

A touch—so light, so deliberate, it sent ice through my veins.

Fingers.

I felt them before I saw them.

They slid up my thigh, slow and possessive, the warmth of them an unnatural contrast against the cool night air.

A sickening shudder crawled through me, but my body… my body wouldn’t move.

Paralyzed.

A leaden weight pressed into my limbs, keeping me pinned beneath the sheets.

My arms felt like they weren’t my own.

My legs, heavy and useless.

I tried to jerk away, to scream, to thrash, but my body betrayed me—frozen in place, mouth open in a soundless plea.

The fingers climbed higher.

A rush of breath—hot, damp—ghosted over my neck, setting my nerve endings ablaze.

"Shh, Lena. It’s me."

Cassian.

The voice was a lullaby of shadows, deep and amused, curling like smoke against my ear.

His tone was velvet-soft, but beneath it was something else—something wrong.

The weight on the bed shifted.