Chapter 10 — Spell in Flesh and Blood

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind her, Susan let out a shaky sigh. The seconds until she reached the apartment felt eternal.

When she finally entered, she locked the door with more force than she intended, dropping her bag on the narrow cabinet beside the entrance and kicking off her heels without caring where they landed.

Her heart was still racing. Dmitry’s gaze wouldn’t leave her mind. Blue. Intense. Hot and cruel at the same time.

She couldn’t keep ignoring it. She needed to act before it was too late.

She ran to the bedroom, pulling the bedspread off in a hurry until she reached the dark wooden box she had hidden underneath it since moving to Moscow.

Her hands trembled as she turned the small key attached to the cord of her amulet, which she always wore around her neck. The only object from her mother she had never allowed herself to lose.

The creak of the box’s hinges was muffled by the urgency in her chest. Inside, among old letters, used candles, and an empty vial with traces of silvery liquid, it was there: the grimoire.

It was ancient, with yellowed pages and frayed edges. The smell of dried herbs and melted wax still clung to its leaves.

Susan opened it, flipping through quickly, her green eyes searching for any reference to a spell for breaking bonds, neutralizing essence, or dissipating a mark. But what she found made her choke on her own breath.

“When the blood of Morrigan’s Daughter chooses, the claim is immediate. Desire becomes addiction. Obsession, punishment. Whoever tries to imprison her without conquering her soul will be cursed. The Lycan who tries to possess her without consent will lose his reason, for the instinct does not accept half measures. She can be marked… But she will never belong.

Not to the body. Not to the instinct.

Only to the heart that knows how to listen to her.

Or ruin will fall.”

The book slipped from her fingers and fell onto the mattress with a dull thud.

“No…” she whispered, pressing her lips together. “It can’t be this.”

She already knew. From the first time Dmitry approached her, from the touch of his gaze. She had already been marked.

Not physically. Not yet. But he looked at her as if she were already his, and her blood had already chosen him. And she felt it. Every cell, every pulse in her veins clamored for him. It was suffocating. Painful. Addictive.

Susan ran her hands through her red hair, messing up the strands without caring. Her reflection in the vanity mirror stared back at her: her green eyes clearer than ever, her cheeks flushed, her expression terrified.

If Dmitry desired her… If he discovered what she truly was…

She would be hunted.

Because Morrigan’s descendants belonged to no one. And precisely because of that, they were feared. Desired… Killed.

Even more so if the claim had already begun.

“I need a spell…” she murmured to herself, opening the grimoire again. “One that breaks this… Neutralizes the call.”

But there was nothing simple. Nothing safe. And she didn’t have the power to invoke any ritual without awakening more than she already had.

Susan bit her lip hard, tasting the metallic flavor. A raw reminder of what was at stake.

Dmitry was an Alpha. Married. One of the most dangerous men in that world. And she… was just a woman trying to hide what ran in her veins. If he took her by force, the Lycan would go mad. If she rejected him, his mark could drag her to death.

It was a dance with no way out. And the worst part? A part of her — a stupid and reckless part… also wanted him.

“Damn it, Dmitry…” she whispered, burying her face in her hands. “Why you?”

In the bag hanging on the sideboard, her phone vibrated. A message. She could hear it from the bedroom. She hesitated before getting up and going to the bag.

Maki:  

“We’re waiting for your decision about the event, okay.”

Susan closed her eyes for a moment. She couldn’t go. She shouldn’t. But if she refused, the girls would insist. And worse: they might raise suspicions.

She typed back:  

“I’ll think about it. But I can’t guarantee anything.”

Minutes later, Maki replied:  

“Scared of seeing Mr. Rurik again, huh? Trust me, you should be more afraid of not going.”

Susan laughed without humor. If only she knew how right she was… Because the worst had already begun, and the call between her and Dmitry was like fire and gunpowder.

All that was missing was the spark.

…

She knew it wasn’t real the moment she felt the touch of the breeze on her skin. It was too warm. Too sweet. Like a whisper that came from nowhere but spoke directly to the soul.

She was at the edge of a lake. Dark, deep, like a mirror of everything she tried to hide. The light dress clung to her body with silent tenderness, but it was as if it could protect nothing.

Not from herself.  

Not from him.

Her hands trembled as she hugged herself, trying to contain her own body. As if she could stop what was coming. As if saying “no” would make any difference when Dmitry was near.

She felt him before she heard him. Every step he took stirred the air, the ground, her. As if the world changed shape just because he was there.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, without the courage to turn around. Her voice came out lower than she wanted, weak. Vulnerable. “This is a mistake, Dmitry…”

But he came anyway. Just like the first time.

“Then why did you call me, solnishko? (little sun?)” His voice was hot poison, sticking to her, melting every defense. “You drag me here… and then want me to leave?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, her throat closing.

“Because this is going to destroy us…” she managed to say, even as she felt the weight of desire pushing against every word. “This desire… It’s not normal.”

He was behind her. The heat of his body enveloped her without even needing to touch her. But he did touch her. Of course he did. His hands on her waist, his breath on the back of her neck, and her heart beating so hard it hurt.

She turned, finally, facing those eyes that always pierced through her. And it was like falling.

“You should run,” she thought. But her feet didn’t move.

He rested his forehead against hers, and the world became small. Just the two of them. Just that moment.

“What are you, Susan?” Dmitry whispered, waiting for some answer, but the one she had wouldn’t please him. “You dismantle me as if it were simple. As if I hadn’t spent my entire life controlling every damn impulse.”

She swallowed hard, feeling her body tremble.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want this. I didn’t want you like this…”

“Too late.” His voice came out like a trapped growl. “You got me addicted. You made me sick just from smelling you. I feel your absence on my skin.”

That destroyed her inside.

“This is madness…” she thought. But what if it was the only place she truly felt alive?

She thought of all the agonizing, lonely days filled only with pain and emptiness while she fought alongside her mother in that hospital. She was a living curse, she would never be happy. But… was it a sin to want to feel alive?!

He held her tightly. Not with violence, but with urgency. As if she were the only thing still keeping him standing.

“You’re afraid of losing yourself…” he said, his eyes burning into hers. “But with me, you can. Because I’m already the weak part of this equation. I’m the one who loses. The one who crumbles. Since I saw you in that meeting room.”

He confessed, and then he kissed her.

It wasn’t a fairy-tale kiss. It was an end-of-the-world kiss. And she surrendered.

His lips were heat and possession. His tongue, a promise of ruin. Every touch was a warning: you will never be the same again. And she didn’t want to be. Not with him.

The cold grass contrasted with the absurd heat between them as Dmitry laid her down, as if every part of her were sacred, and not cursed.

“Dmitry…” she tried to speak, but his lips were on her neck, stealing her breath and her sanity.

His hands explored her skin as if searching for a home, as if she were everything he had always hoped to find. And even knowing that this dream would push them over the precipice for good, she didn’t want to wake up.

She wanted to lose herself in him. Until the end. Until nothing remained of who she was before him.

“You are my ruin,” he whispered against her skin. “And I’m ready to fall.”

Susan felt tears in her eyes, but she didn’t cry. Because in that moment, she was also ready to fall.

Fall into him.