Semua Bab Bound by Darkness: Shadowborn: Bab 41 - Bab 50

Therrin's POV The forest around them was thick with dusk, the golden light folding softly beneath the canopy as shadows deepened into night. Therrin sat quietly beside Ciaran, her mind still caught in the aftermath of what had happened during those shadow-bound moments—moments she barely understood but felt woven into the core of her being. Ciaran's voice was low, careful, as he broke the silence between them. "Tell me… how did it feel when the shadows contained your wrists?" His gaze searched hers, steady and patient. Therrin's breath hitched. She hesitated, then slowly looked down at her hands resting on her lap, fingers curling slightly. "It was… strange. Heavy, but not like a weight pressing down. More like a presence—firm, unyielding. I could feel the cold, but it wasn't just cold—it was focused, like the shadows were holding me, keeping me still, making me vulnerable." She swallowed and glanced back at Ciaran, a flick

Dion's POV The air reeked of magic. Not the kind that shimmered with promise or beauty, but the kind that clung to the skin—bitter, oily, and old. Dion stood still, boots planted on the charred forest floor, his breath shallow. He could feel it—her. A distant, pulsing thread humming low in his bones. "She's close," he muttered. Grimm padded beside him in his feline form, fur bristling with unease. "She's fading." Dion clenched his fists. The bond was still there, but it flickered like a dying flame. Each beat of his heart chased the ghost of her presence, but the signal was faint—twisted through veils of shadow. She'd gone deep into the dark, somewhere no light dared follow. "How long has she been gone?" he asked, voice rough. "Long enough that I should've felt more," Grimm said, his mismatched eyes narrowing. "She's blocking parts of it—or something is. Her magic is still present. But she's no

Therrin’s POV The world returned in fragments—soft wind, the scent of pine and moss, a heartbeat that didn't belong to her, but pulsed so loudly it might as well have. Her lashes fluttered, and light filtered in through the canopy above. She was wrapped in something warm and earthy, vines curled around her like fingers, holding her gently—not his fingers. Not Ciaran's. The name ripped through her mind like a scream, and she bolted upright, breath catching as her eyes darted across the clearing. Dion stood a few paces away. Grimm lingered at the edge of the trees, his golden eyes glowing low. "You're safe," Dion said softly, his voice raw from strain. Her eyes snapped to him. "Safe?" Her voice cracked with disbelief. "You think I needed to be saved?" "You were—" he started. "Don't," she snapped. Her fists clenched the blanket around her. "You tore me away from him. From

She writhed in the bed of vines, the forest hushed around us, the flowers blooming wider in the dark like they, too, were drinking in the magic between us. I let the feathers brush her lower lip. She licked it. Slowly. Unconsciously. And I exhaled a curse I hadn't meant to say aloud. I reached out—finally—cupping her cheek, grounding her as her senses spun. "You don't need to hear my voice," I said softly, "because your body's already listening." The magic curled once more, this time trailing behind her ear and down the sensitive line of her neck. She cried out. The sound was small and wild, half-choked by the silence imposed by the veil. But I heard it in my soul. And I wasn't done with her. Not even close.

Dion's POV She writhed beneath me like wildfire caged in silk. Magic still coiled around her body like living threads—threads I'd woven from the forest floor and my own want, each laced with the promise of pleasure and surrender. The whisper veil clung to her ears. The blindfold to her eyes. All senses gone, except for the one I now ruled with reverent cruelty: touch. She didn't need gentleness. She craved command. And I had no intention of denying her. I moved down her body like a slow storm. My fingers trailed across her abdomen, watching the muscles twitch and tremble as I passed. I let the vines part as I went, loosening their hold around her thighs only when I was ready to kneel between them. The scent of her was maddening—heady, potent, a perfume crafted from want and shadow. I didn't pause to ask permission. She'd already given it with every arch of her spine, every shake of her bre