Light flooded back into Elara's eyes like reality was rushing to catch her. She was on the floor. The metallic taste of adrenaline coated her tongue.
The air smelled like burnt circuitry and gunpowder.
Damon was on one knee beside her, his hand cupping the back of her neck—steadying her, grounding her.
His voice was tight, low.
"Elara. Look at me."
She blinked. He came into focus—dark hair tousled, jaw set in fury, eyes scanning her face like he was counting her breaths.
"What… what happened?" she whispered.
"You protected us."
Those three words sounded incredulous—even begrudgingly impressed.
He touched her lips with his thumb—soft, checking for blood. Elara's heart tripped over itself. The bond flared warm.
System Sync: Mutual attraction elevated
Emotional connection deepening…
She jerked back instinctively. Damon inhaled sharply as the bond pulled on him in response—an echo of rejection that stung.
He stood abruptly.
"We need to leave. Now."
He hauled her to her feet—not too roughly, but with a possessive grip that said he wasn't letting go.
Her legs wobbled.
He caught her, again.
She hated how safe that felt.
As they moved through the wreckage, Damon grabbed a sleek key fob. A section of the marble floor slid open, revealing stairs descending into darkness.
A hidden bunker.
Of course.
Elara's voice shook as they hurried down. "Who are those men? Why do they want you dead?"
Damon didn't hesitate.
"They're hired by a group called the Crimson Veil. Their purpose is to wipe out my bloodline."
"What bloodline?" she pressed.
He paused at the bottom of the stairs.
Turned toward her.
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me," she challenged.
His eyes locked onto hers—cold truth behind them.
"My family descends from something… not entirely human."
Her pulse stumbled.
Before she could respond, he continued moving, leading her into a high-tech safe room—monitors, medical supplies, a biometric vault.
Damon tapped a control panel.
A chair slid up from the floor.
"Sit."
Elara crossed her arms. "You don't get to command me—"
He stepped closer. Much closer.
His hand slid to her lower back—not moving her, just reminding her he could.
"When your life depends on me," he murmured in her ear,
"I command. You obey."
Shivers detonated under her skin.
Warning: Bond Overload
Physical reaction spreading…
She swallowed hard.
Fine. She sat.
Damon grabbed a sleek tablet. Contracts filled the screen—non-disclosure, cohabitation, protection clauses.
He placed the tablet on her lap.
"This legally binds you to remain within fifty meters of me at all times," he said. "No exceptions."
"Or what?" she forced out.
He met her gaze.
"Or you die."
The finality in his tone crushed the air from her lungs.
"You expect me to just… sign away my freedom?"
"Freedom is useless if you're dead," he said sharply.
She shot up from the chair.
He stepped in instantly, chest brushing hers.
"I'm not your property," she hissed.
His eyes darkened with something primal.
"No," he growled.
"Because property can be replaced. You cannot."
Her breath punched out of her.
Damon realized what he'd said and stepped back—just a fraction.
He cleared his throat.
"You're the only bonded person I've encountered. Losing you means losing myself."
Elara froze.
There it was.
The vulnerability he hated showing.
Suddenly, the room felt too small.
The bond pulled them together—inevitable as gravity. Damon's fingers grazed her wrist.
"Elara…"
Her name fell from his lips like a confession.
A soft beep interrupted—holographic red text flashed before them.
New System Protocol Unlocked
Pain Redistribution
Intent-based damage sharing activated.
If one experiences extreme pain, the bond will transfer it entirely to the other.
Elara paled.
Damon's expression turned lethal.
"This system is punishing us," she whispered.
"No," Damon replied darkly.
"It's forcing us together."
His hand slid up her arm again—slow, deliberate.
She hated that her skin leaned into his touch.
"Elara," he murmured, voice dropping lower, "listen carefully."
His gaze burned into her like truth and temptation.
"You signed nothing yet. But the moment you walked into my life—your fate stopped being your own."
Her voice was barely a sound.
"And who owns it now?"
His answer was soft like danger is soft—because it doesn't need to shout:
"I do."
A shiver rolled through her spine—half fear, half something she refused to name.
Damon straightened.
"I'll finalize the contract with my lawyers by morning."
He nodded at a door. "For tonight, you sleep here."
Elara glared at him. "You have a hundred rooms upstairs."
"I'm not letting you out of my sight."
His voice softened into something dangerously close to concern.
"Not after what you did to protect me."
She stepped closer—finally letting anger replace fear.
"And what if I don't want you watching me?"
He leaned down—lips hovering over hers but not touching.
"Then you'll hate the bond," he whispered.
"Because I will always come for you."
He left before she could respond.
The door sealed shut.
Elara pressed her shaking fingers to her lips—because they still felt the ghost of his almost-kiss.
The worst part?
She wanted him to come back and finish it.