Chased By The Dark

KAELITH

The morning air was sharp against my skin as I stepped into the cold. The stone beneath my bare feet didn't bite as I welcomed the pain which reminded me I was still here. I chose to stay away from her even when every instinct in me screamed to go back.

She was inside, probably watching the shadows stretch across the walls. Probably wondering why I hadn't touched her again. Why I hadn't marked her throat a second time.

The truth was that I was losing control.

I'd waited too long for her. I spent years watching from the other side of mirrors and thresholds. I knew the tilt of her head when she laughed. I knew the way her lips curved when she was trying not to cry. I'd memorized her without ever hearing her speak my name.

And now that she was mine, the part of me I kept locked beneath layers of restraint was threatening to rise.

She doesn't know yet. She doesn't remember.

Good. She's not ready.

I moved through the courtyard like a phantom. The servants knew better than to speak to me in this state. I wasn't their prince now. I was the thing that hunted.

Her scent still clung to my skin. Sweet. Human. Addictive. No amount of cold wind could wash it off.

The problem wasn't her weakness — it was mine. She'd looked up at me last night like she would've followed me into fire. But trust built that quickly was dangerous. Delicate. It wasn't love. It was instinct.

And instinct got people killed.

I stopped near the blackened fountain in the center of the grounds, the water frozen over. My reflection stared back — a creature with eyes too old for his face and a hunger that would never be satisfied.

"You've finally got her," I murmured to the emptiness, moreso to myself. "Now try not to ruin her."

But the thing is… I always ruin what I love.

A guard approached, cloak brushing the ice.

"My prince," he said. "There's movement in the North. Shadows at the boundary. They say they carry the mark of Obsidian."

Of course they do.

I gave a short nod. "Let them watch. Let them wonder."

Because they weren't the threat.

The real danger was inside — in my bed, wearing my marks.

And I wasn't sure I had the strength to let her go when the time came.

Because I wasn't done with her.

Not yet.

Not ever.