Rheon Chains and Temptation
Rheon
Chains and Temptation
I should’ve left Seoul. That was the agreement — a quiet retreat into the shadows until this thing between us faded. Until she could pretend none of it ever happened.
But I couldn’t stay away. Not after the rooftop.
Not after the way she looked at me — like I was a threat she didn’t want to kill, like I was the answer to a question she wasn’t ready to ask.
She didn’t kiss me. She almost did.
That kind of almost sinks teeth in deeper than a yes ever could.
“Temporary truce,” she said.
"Fine, but when you're done pretending this isn't fate—I'll still be here."
I answered. And she’d left.
But not before the mark on her hand glowed when mine did.
Not before her eyes betrayed how much she wanted to stay.
I was tracking remnants of a cult cell — whispers of blood offerings in the alleys near Gyeongdong Market.
Human bodies drained dry. The kind of ritual that left a stink in the air days after it ended.
Too quiet. No witnesses. No screams. Only blood, still warm, in a perfect circle behind an apothecary dumpster.
And then I saw it. A symbol scratched into the pavement. Ancient. Not demonic — hunter-made. Warding seal. Sloppy, but meant to stun.
I turned too late.
The first bolt hit my ribs — cold, blessed steel. It hissed against my skin like acid.
The second? Right through my thigh. Crippling. Meant to slow. Not kill.
They wanted me alive.
Six enforcers moved in through the alley fog, cloaked in Guild glamours. Fast. Coordinated.
The first one lunged. I gripped his face in both hands and whispered a curse that turned his blood to shadow. He dropped. Another tried to blindside me — blade raised — but I ducked low and slammed him into the brick wall. His spine cracked.
I could have made it out. I almost made it out. But then I smelled her. Hidden above. Silent. Watching.
She whispered a rite I didn’t recognize. Something deep. Forbidden.
And the moment I felt it twist my blood, I knew.
This wasn’t a hunt.
This was a sacrifice.
────────???────────
I wake to the scent of rosemary ash and holy salt.
The shrine hums like a wound that won't close. The cuffs bite into my wrists — iron laced with silver, runes carved into my bones. My arms are strung above me, chained to a pillar older than the city. My shirt’s torn. My shadows curl weakly, repelled by the warded floor.
And still…I’m smiling.
Because I feel her. Moments later, she enters.
Seori.
Dagger on her hip. Rage in her stride. But it’s not anger that tightens her mouth — it’s fear. The kind you only feel when something you care about is bleeding in front of you.
“Why didn’t you fight?”
“I did.”
“Not good enough, I can’t let them see this. I can't let them know about our bond.”
She tells me looking shocked and desperate. She stands in front of me, shoulders rigid. Her aura lashes against mine — bright, righteous, terrified.
“Why are you smiling?” she snaps.
“Because you came.”
She steps closer, dragging the dagger across my collarbone, slicing the remains of my shirt away. Her touch is clinical — at first.
Until her fingers brush the mark. It glows.
So does hers.
"This body is yours to break, Hunter," I say, voice low and steady, "or to learn."
She freezes. Her jaw clenches. Her hand trembles. And in that instant, I see it— The way she’s barely holding herself together.
Her breathing quickens. Her magic flares. The bond pulls. Then she does the unthinkable—
She kisses me.
Her lips crash into mine with bruising force. Not a question. Not an apology. She kisses like she’s drowning and I’m the last gasp of air. Her tongue slides against mine. I groan, pulling against the chains, desperate to feel more of her—chest to chest, bone to bone.
She fists my hair. Bites my bottom lip.
Every pulse of the bond surges like lightning beneath our skin, and I need her in a way that terrifies me. When she pulls away, panting, her eyes wide with horror and hunger, I don’t let her pretend.
“There’s no going back now, Hunter,” I whisper. “You kissed me like you already made your choice.”
And for the first time in 600 years… I hope someone was finally choosing me.