Lilith awoke to frost on her windowpane, delicate veins of ice that hadn't been there the night before. She pressed her palm against the cold glass, watching her breath bloom in soft white clouds.
> He's close.
It had been days since the clearing, but the sorcerer's presence lingered like a shadow stitched to her skin. Each night he came — not always in form, but in sensations that wrapped around her throat like a velvet leash. Sometimes it was his laughter curling through her dreams, dark and intimate. Sometimes it was the phantom press of his hand at the small of her back, guiding her through corridors that smelled of old magic and secrets.
She hated how her body responded. How her pulse leaped at even the memory of his touch.
With shaking hands, she pulled on her thickest cloak and left her cottage, hoping the biting wind would scour him from her thoughts.
---
She should have stayed close to the village. But the forest seemed to beckon her, whispering with every sigh of wind through the black branches.
> Come deeper.
And like a fool, she obeyed. Perhaps part of her wanted to see him again — to demand he undo whatever binding spell he'd woven. To prove she wasn't afraid.
But mostly, she was drawn by a heat low in her belly that she didn't dare name.
As she stepped between the ancient oaks, her breath fogged thicker, her heart picking up speed. The world grew dimmer, sounds muffled, as if the forest were swallowing her whole.
Then she felt it: the electric prickle of power skating over her skin. Like tiny claws dragging down her spine.
She spun.
"Show yourself!"
Silence.
She clenched her fists. "Coward. Hiding in your shadows. Is that all the mighty Dark One can do?"
A slow, rich laugh spilled through the trees, wrapping around her ribs. She turned again, every direction the same tangle of black trunks and frostbitten moss.
> "Bold little thorn," the voice purred, drifting close to her ear though he was nowhere to be seen. "Tell me — do you truly want me to appear? Or are you just hoping to prove to yourself that you can face me without trembling?"
"I'm not afraid of you," she snapped, though her voice cracked on the last word.
Another laugh, this one almost pitying. "Oh, but you are. That's what makes it so… delicious."
---
Without warning, the world seemed to tilt. Her vision blurred, stomach lurching. When it cleared, she was no longer in the forest.
A vast marble chamber stretched around her, lit by chandeliers that dripped with black gems. Velvet drapes hung heavy at towering windows, though no light seeped through. The air was warm, scented with smoke and something darker — something that made her mouth go dry.
Lilith staggered back, heart racing. "Where have you brought me?"
From the shadows, he emerged. His silhouette coalesced out of nothing, robes whispering over the polished floor. Those crimson eyes pinned her in place.
"To my home," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
He stalked closer. She scrambled back until her shoulders hit a cold pillar. His mouth curved into a slow, devastating smile.
"Do you know what happens to mortals who trespass twice into a sorcerer's circle, little thorn?"
Her throat worked. "I didn't mean to—"
"You never do." His voice dropped, silk over knives. "But intentions matter little to magic. Or to me."
His hand came up, brushing her cheek. A shiver danced down her spine — traitorous, eager. She clenched her jaw, trying to turn away, but he caught her chin and held her fast.
"You smell of fear and stubborn pride. It's intoxicating."
---
He pressed closer, his body a wall of dark heat. "Why fight it?" he murmured, breath ghosting over her lips. "You're bound to me. Even now, the marks on your skin drink in my power. With every breath you take, you tie yourself tighter."
"Undo it," she rasped. "Break the spell. Let me go."
Something almost sad flickered through his eyes, gone in an instant. "Even if I could… would you truly want me to? Or have you already begun to savor the chain around your throat?"
She slapped him. The crack of flesh on flesh echoed through the cavernous hall. Her palm stung — so did her pride.
He didn't flinch. Only tilted his head, considering her with that same infuriating calm. Then slowly, deliberately, he licked a smear of blood from his lip where her ring had cut him.
Lilith's stomach flipped. Heat licked through her, shameful and raw.
His smile was sharp. "That's what I thought."
He caught her wrist and tugged her forward. She tried to resist — but her body betrayed her, feet moving even as her mind screamed no. He guided her hand to his chest, over where his heart should beat. Through the layers of cold fabric, she felt a thrum of power, dark and endless.
"You are mine, Lilith Blackthorn. The forest has claimed you. I have claimed you."
His free hand traced the marks at her throat, and they flared under his touch, sending jolts of painful pleasure through her veins.
---
(5) A warning — or a promise
"Try to run again," he whispered, his mouth brushing her ear, "and I will drag you back in ways far less gentle."
Her eyes stung. "Why me? Why torment me like this?"
He pulled back just enough to look at her, crimson eyes softening strangely. "Because you shine. This miserable village, this bleak world — it's full of dull, frightened creatures. You blaze with defiance. I wanted to see how brightly you'd burn when pressed into darkness."
A tear slipped free. He caught it on his thumb, studying the glimmering droplet before smearing it across her lower lip.
"Beautiful even when you break."
Then he was gone. Just like that — the chamber, the sorcerer, all vanished. Lilith collapsed to her knees on the cold forest floor, clutching her chest where her heart tried to tear itself free.
---
(6) The whisper returns
That night, she sat on her bed, knees hugged to her chest. Candlelight shivered across the walls, throwing long, uncertain shadows. Her throat still tingled where he'd touched her.
> "Mine…"
The voice drifted through the room, low and intimate, curling under her skin. Her breath caught.
> "Dream of me, little thorn."
She squeezed her eyes shut, but the darkness behind her lids was filled with his cruel mouth, his knowing hands, the echo of his laughter.
---
(7) Something darker stirs
When dawn finally broke, Lilith stood by her cracked mirror, tracing the faint marks along her collarbone. They pulsed beneath her fingers, alive with a promise she didn't want to understand.
"I hate you," she whispered to her empty room.
But deep inside, something twisted whispered back.
> Liar.
Because even now, part of her waited for nightfall. Part of her longed for the circle to close around her again, for his hands to reclaim her.