BLEEDING VELVET

Almond woke with the taste of iron still on her lips.

It wasn't blood. Not his. Not hers. It was something older. More ancient.

A taste that didn't belong in this world.

She sat up slowly, sheets tangled like ropes around her thighs, Aren's scent clinging to her like sin. The apartment was silent. Too silent. No sound of traffic. No birds. Just... the heavy breath of something watching.

She could feel it.

Almond turned away from Aren, wrapping her arms around herself like armor. "You don't understand what's happening to me."

"I understand enough to know I'm losing you," he said, stepping closer. "Every time you look at me, it's like you're staring through me. Like something's clawing at your soul from the inside."

She flinched.

Because he was right.

There were moments she could hear the other version of herself. The one with the violet eyes and blood on her hands. The one who whispered in dreams. The one who kissed Aren while imagining his body breaking under her heel.

"I'm scared," she said. And it was the first honest thing she'd allowed herself to say in weeks.

Aren touched her chin, raising her face to meet his. "Good. Fear means you still feel something. It means you're still fighting."

"No, it just means I'm not strong enough to surrender completely."

Aren frowned. "Is that what you want? To surrender?"

Her lips trembled. "I don't know what I want. Some days I want to burn the world for what it did to me. Other days, I want to crawl into your arms and pretend none of this is happening."

"And tonight?"

"Tonight," she whispered, "I want to see what happens when I stop pretending."

Midnight came like a curse.

The apartment lights flickered. Shadows stretched too far. The air grew thick—charged, electric, and ancient.

Almond stood at the edge of the bed, arms outstretched, eyes rolling back. A violet aura swirled around her, and for a heartbeat, she wasn't just Almond.

She was Her.

The dark version.

The one who wore sorrow like silk and rage like perfume.

Aren tried to step toward her, but something invisible slammed him against the wall.

"Almond!" he shouted. "Fight it!"

But it wasn't her name she responded to.

It was the other one.

The forgotten one.

The name carved in her bones in some forgotten hell.

Her lips moved, voice split into two tones—hers and the thing beneath her skin.

"Velanthis."

The room exploded in violet fire.

She collapsed.

And this time, when Aren reached her, she didn't flinch.

She just looked up at him, eyes full of tears.

"Something's waking up inside me," she said. "And I'm not sure who will survive it."

He didn't speak.

He just held her.

Even if it meant holding the end of the world in his arms.

She wasn't alone in her body anymore.

She padded barefoot into the bathroom. The mirror greeted her with a version of herself that didn't blink when she did. Eyes glowing faintly violet. Veins darker than ink. She leaned closer.

"Say it," the reflection whispered.

"No."

"Say it."

"I won't."

"Say his name."

Her hands trembled. She grabbed the edge of the sink, knuckles white.

From the bedroom, Aren called out. "You okay?"

She didn't answer.

She couldn't.

Because the reflection—her—smiled, and said, "He's waking up inside you. And when he does, you won't need love. You'll need power."

Almond smashed the mirror.

Not out of fear. Out of defiance.

But the pieces on the floor still shimmered with her face. All of them smiling back at her.

Back in the room, Aren stood at the window, shirtless, skin glowing faintly under the moonlight. He turned as she walked in, a shadow crossing his eyes.

"I felt it again," he said. "That thing. Inside me."

"It's him," she said. "He wants both of us."

"Then he can take me," Aren said. "But not you."

Almond's laugh was bitter. "You think you can bargain with darkness?"

"I'd burn for you."

"You already are."

A pause. The weight of that truth settled on both of them.

Velda's warning echoed in Almond's head: The devil doesn't seduce with fear. He seduces with love twisted into something monstrous.

And that's what this was becoming.

Not love.

Not even obsession.

This was possession.