Chapter 17
VIVIAN
Waking up felt like I was clawing my way out of a thick fog. It was a struggle just to open my eyes. My head pounded in time with my heartbeat, and my limbs felt like lead weights. The remnants of the ritual clung to me, an unpleasant heaviness that refused to dissipate.
I blinked against the soft light filtering through the curtains. The room was quiet, too quiet, save for the steady sound of breathing. Breathing that was decidedly not mine.
I sat up with a start, my heart lurching in my chest. My vision blurred momentarily as I turned, instinctively clutching the blanket to my chest. Raffaele was lying next to me, his dark hair slightly mussed, his face peaceful in sleep. For a moment, I was too stunned to react.
Then his eyes opened.
He blinked slowly, his gaze sharpening as it locked onto mine. “You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and raspy with sleep. His fingers brushed against my arm as he shifted closer. “Are you okay?”
I jerked my arm back as if I’d been burned. The ache in my muscles was nothing compared to the anger that flared in my chest. “Okay?” I repeated, my voice hoarse and incredulous. “I feel like shit. Whatever you did to me during that”—I gestured vaguely, my voice trembling—“ritual nearly killed me.”
Guilt flashed across his face, a brief flicker that softened his features in a way I’d never seen before. “I didn’t know it would be like that,” he murmured. “Not for a human.”
“Right,” I snapped. “Because why would you think to consider what it might do to me? I’m just a human, right? My only purpose is to be used.”
His jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back, his shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m sorry, Vivian. I swear, I didn’t know. If I had…”
The remorse in his voice threw me off balance.
I didn’t think The Shadow—that cold, unfeeling force of nature—was capable of regret, let alone guilt.
But the weight in his tone, the way his brows furrowed as if the memory of my pain haunted him, made me hesitate.
For the first time, I wondered if there might actually be a heart buried under all that darkness.
As he shifted in the bed, I realized he was still naked from the ritual the night before.
I opened my mouth to speak, but then a strange sensation rippled through me.
It wasn’t physical—not exactly. It felt like someone had reached into my chest and plucked a taut string, sending a reverberation through every nerve in my body.
I froze as the sensation became sharper, heavier. Raw and unrelenting.
Anxiety. Worry. Fear.
But it wasn’t mine.
The realization struck like a lightning bolt, and a cold chill raced down my spine. The vivid emotions pressed against the edges of my mind, as if a door had cracked open and something foreign had slipped inside. They weren’t just passing feelings. They were alive, pulsating, and undeniably his.
I turned my gaze to Raffaele, my lips parting in disbelief.
He was sitting across from me, his body deceptively still, but I could feel the turmoil radiating from him.
It wasn’t merely a suspicion—I knew. The bond between us, invisible but so achingly present, thrummed with it, like a thread tied tightly between our souls.
“What the fuck…” I whispered, my throat tight. The weight of his emotions was suffocating, pressing against my chest until it felt hard to breathe. My hands curled into fists, my nails biting into my palms as I tried to steady myself.
“I can feel you,” I said slowly. “You’re worried.”
His expression hardened instantly, his features locking into a mask so cold and controlled it sent a shiver through me. But it was too late. The bond had already betrayed him.
“Vivian—” he warned.
“No.” My voice rose with the swell of emotions that weren’t entirely my own. I jabbed a finger at him. “What the fuck is going on? Why can I feel what you’re feeling?”
The tether between us pulsed again, tightening around me like a noose. His worry was shifting, morphing into frustration. Sharp and grating, a mirror of my own rising anger. I tried to shake it off, but it clung to me, impossible to ignore.
He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that almost looked human—almost. “It’s the bond,” he admitted reluctantly. “It ties us together. Not just physically, but… emotionally. Mentally.”
I blinked, the words crashing into me like a wave. “What?” Disbelief clawing at the edges of my mind. “You’re saying… this is normal? I’m supposed to feel this?”
“Yes.” He shifted slightly, his gaze flicking to the floor before meeting mine again. “It’s normal for you to pick up on my emotions. And I…” He paused, his jaw tightening as if the admission was physically painful. “I can feel yours, too.”
My heart raced as I processed that. The bond wasn’t just a metaphor—it was real, tangible, like a thread wound tightly around my chest, tethering me to him in ways I couldn’t even begin to understand. And right now, that thread buzzed with the echo of his emotions. It was overwhelming.
My mind was my greatest possession, and it was no longer my own. This was a fate worse than I ever could have imagined.
“What does that even mean?” I demanded. “You can feel me? What exactly are you feeling?”
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then his lips curved into a wry and entirely maddening smirk. “You’re pissed at me. That’s obvious.”
“No shit,” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. “What else?”
I caught the faintest flicker of vulnerability in his eyes before he masked it. “I can feel… fragments,” he said carefully, as if choosing his words with painstaking precision. “Your frustration. Your confusion. And—” Those dark eyes bore into me. “And your fear.”
The air left my lungs in a rush, and I recoiled as if he’d struck me. “I’m not afraid of you,” I said in reflex. But even as I spoke, I felt the bond hum with doubt, a subtle ripple of emotion that wasn’t mine.
He raised an eyebrow. “There’s no point in lying to me, Vivian. Not when I can feel the truth.”
My hands trembled, and I clenched them tighter around the sheet, fighting to maintain some semblance of control. I hated this. I hated him. But the bond wouldn’t let me lie, not even to myself.
“Fine,” I said finally. “Maybe I’m a little scared. But you’re not exactly easy to trust, Raffaele.”
“This wasn’t supposed to be like this.” The usual arrogance in his voice was gone. Now, it was raw and unguarded. He raked his hand through his hair, leaving it messily tousled. The movement drew my attention to his sharp jawline and the shadow of stubble that gave him an almost rugged appeal.
His brows were drawn together, the hard lines of his face now soft.
Gods, why did he have to be so infuriatingly beautiful?
Emotion flickered in his intense, dark eyes—real, unfiltered emotion that left me momentarily breathless. Vulnerability and regret tangled with something deeper that I couldn’t quite place.
“I didn’t plan for the bond to affect you this much.” The low rumble of his voice reverberated right through me. “Hell, I didn’t even think I’d feel it this strongly.”
There was a weight to his words that made my pulse quicken, and I fought the strange urge to reach for him and offer some kind of comfort.
My mind reeled, trying to reconcile the man in front of me with the cold, commanding figure I thought I’d known.
He wasn’t supposed to look like this, to feel like this—human, real, and entirely too magnetic.
His gaze didn’t waver, but then the starkness in his expression lifted, replaced by a teasing light that sent a fresh ripple of tension through the bond. His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
“What are you smiling about?” I asked warily. I tried to hold on to my anger and disbelief, but the bond thrummed between us, pulling at my emotions like a tether, and I couldn’t completely suppress the presence of something softer.
“You’re aroused,” he said simply, his lips twitching in amusement.
My jaw dropped, heat flooding my face as indignation roared to life inside me. “You’re such an ass!” I snapped, grabbing the nearest object—a pillow—and hurling it at his head with all the strength I could muster.
He caught it effortlessly, his reflexes almost irritatingly perfect. And then he laughed. Really laughed.
It was deep and rich, a genuine burst of amusement that filled the room and wrapped around me like the warmth from a fire on a cold day.
It was the first time I’d ever heard him laugh, and the effect was startling.
His entire face transformed as his grin lit up his features and reached his eyes.
The change was so disarming, so utterly unexpected, that I forgot to be angry.
He looked almost… normal.
And I hated that it made me smile.
“Fuck off, Raffaele,” I muttered, turning my face away quickly, hoping to hide the traitorous curve of my lips. My cheeks burned, and I silently cursed the bond for making me so acutely aware of his emotions. His amusement practically radiated through the tether.
“You’re smiling,” he pointed out, his voice annoyingly smug.
“I’m not,” I said firmly, refusing to meet his gaze.
“You are.” he countered, shifting closer. His warm, teasing tone made my defenses falter. “I can feel it.”
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” he said softly, and this time the teasing edge was gone. If I wasn’t mistaken, that was fondness in his voice. “I can feel that, too.”
I peeked at him through my fingers. He was still smiling, but the look on his face struck me like a blow. He was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world, his dark eyes unguarded for the briefest of moments.
The bond pulsed again, and I felt his emotions—amusement, yes, but also something softer, something that made my breath catch. It was like standing too close to a flame, the warmth both comforting and dangerous.