Mary Louise Emerson

Friday. The night air bites at Xander’s skin as he stands shirtless at the edge of the Mira Spire—tallest building in Luxen. The tower pierces the sky, a structure of sheer defiance. Its exterior formed from a dark, mirrored alloy—impervious to decay, light, and time.

He often comes here to think, its peak completely inaccessible to anyone other than someone like him. His nights have become far too busy to enjoy the view anymore. But after leaving Alaura’s apartment through mist and shadows, after seeing her wear his shirt—his necklace—the burn inside him was unbearable.

The sky is clear tonight. From this height, the city below looks like a fever dream—neon arteries pulsing light across the dark, like veins feeding a heart too small to contain it. It does little to distract him.

She was awake. He should have felt it the moment he crossed the threshold. Noticed her breathing, her conscious awareness curling around his.

And not only was she awake, but she walked up to him. A stranger, a monster who has been entering her home night after night. There was no fear in her steps, no trembling in her breath. Just the quiet boldness of someone who knows exactly what she’s inviting in—and chose it anyway.

There was no flinch when he clasped the necklace around her neck. When she wrapped herself in his shirt like it belonged to her. And when she slid into bed, cocooned in his scent, she didn’t tell him to leave. She let him stand there in the dark, hovering over her, completely undone.

Then, when he spoke those words to her, she smiled. He could feel her happiness.

And it broke him.

He knows what he is, what he’s done. What lives beneath his skin, what courses through his veins. But when she looks at him, she doesn’t see that. She only sees him.

Alaura’s not normal. She’s not naïve either. She knows a thing or two about monsters. He felt it in her memories, her fractured nightmares. And still… she touched him, let him feel worshipped.

The city shimmers like it wants to seduce him, but it’s nothing compared to the way the blue of her irises outshone the diamonds as she stared into his eyes. He thought keeping his distance would protect them both. That watching from far away would be enough.

But she’s taken that distance and shattered it.

With a smirk. With a challenge. With a hand sliding beneath black lace while he stood powerless to act on the need that tore through him.

Xander tilts his head back, letting the wind carve its way across his torso. The onyx ink of his tattoos absorbing the moonlight. He can still feel her fingers tracing them. Still feel the heat of her breath against his chest.

She knows exactly what she’s doing to him. She’s won every round, countered every move. And he always comes back for more. He couldn’t take it. He had to know. Had to have her.

Because every night he spends in her presence, he feels more human. And every night he leaves, something feral begs to stay.

The truth?

The moment she put that necklace on, she stopped being a game.

She became his.

As the wind howls louder, he whispers her name. The city doesn’t hear, but something else does.

And it whispers back.