Rheon What Bleeds, Binds
Rheon
What Bleeds, Binds
The shrine burned behind us. The child still cried in my arms. And Jisoo — fucking Jisoo — had the audacity to smirk as we vanished into the shadows.
I paced the floor of our underground safe house — a forgotten subway tunnel we’d carved into a sanctuary. The walls pulsed with faint glyphs, warding us from detection. The girl had been left with a safe family — a half-demon healer who owed me blood for sparing his son.
But the weight hadn’t left me. Neither had her eyes.
Seori’s eyes.
The way she looked at me. Not with hatred. With… doubt.
I hated that I liked it.
“Where the hell were you before the raid?” I snapped.
Jisoo, lounging in a cracked leather chair with one leg over the armrest, gave me a lazy grin.
“Getting the fire starters. What, you didn’t like our grand entrance?”
“You could’ve gotten her killed.”
“She’s a hunter,” he shrugged. “Comes with the job.”
“She’s more than that,” I growled.
He tilted his head, and behind him, Taeyang stirred. The berserker leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like I was the unstable one. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, it always cut deep.
“You’re not just protecting her, Prince,” he said. “You’re changing.”
“She’s the mate,” Jisoo added, voice quiet now. “We all saw it. That mark didn’t react for any of your others. Not even… her.”
He didn’t say her name. He didn’t have to.
Rheon’s pulse throbbed.
“This isn’t just about fate,” I said.
“No,” Jisoo murmured. “It’s about choice. And you’ve already made it.”
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I felt her before I saw her.
The bond flared — like a sudden inhale across fire — and the glyphs at the safe house threshold hummed low.
Seori.
She stepped through the doorway like a curse I couldn’t shake. Hair loose. Blade at her hip. Eyes burning with questions.
“You lied to me,” she said without preamble.
I didn’t argue. She walked closer. Too close.
“What is this?” she asked, pressing her fingers to her collarbone — where the mark shimmered like gold stitched into skin.
“You know what it is,” I said quietly.
“No,” she snapped. “I want to hear you say it.”
I inhaled slowly. My fingers drifted to the edge of my shirt. And then — I lifted it. The scar sat over my heart. Twisted, ancient, glowing faintly beneath the skin like an ember that never died.
The first time I saw it was four centuries ago. But it only ever reacted… when she appeared.
“The mate mark,” I said, my voice a rasp. “Your soul recognized mine before either of us were ready.”
She stared. Shaking her head.
“I’m not one of you,” she whispered.
I stepped closer.
“No. You’re not. But you’re not one of them either.”
I wanted to reach for her. But I didn’t. Not yet.
“You think this is a curse,” I said. “But it’s the only truth either of us has left.”
“Then why does it feel like it’s killing me?” she asked, voice breaking.
“Because fate never asks for permission,” I whispered. “It just takes.”