Chapter 2 Shadows And The Pull

• The alley outside the bar was slick with last night's rain, the neon lights casting a surreal glow across the puddles. Somewhere down the street, a drunk was laughing too loudly. The city throbbed with life—its heart dark, pulsing, and unaware that ancient eyes were watching from the edges of the world.
• Cassian Virell stood across the street, half-hidden beneath the brim of a black coat, his posture as still as death itself. Not that death concerned him. He had long transcended it. The bar pulsed with noise and life—cheap perfume, clinking glasses, and broken dreams. But all he could see, all he could feel, was her.
• Mira.
• She moved through the crowd like a ghost, her beauty dimmed beneath tired eyes and thin wrists. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, exposing the elegant slope of her neck, a neck he had watched for the past three nights. She didn't know she was being watched—no, hunted. Not for harm, but for something deeper. Something even he didn't yet understand.
• He'd known attraction before—temptation, lust, even obsession. But this... this was something older. More sacred. It unsettled him.
• She carried a tray to a rowdy table, her smile forced, bruises visible under the too-thin fabric of her uniform. She was striking, yes, but there was something in the way she moved—grace in misery, fire hidden beneath frost. It called to him like nothing ever had.
• "She's your mate," Elandra's voice echoed in his mind, a memory from centuries ago. "When you meet her, you'll know. It will burn."
• And it did burn.
• Cassian inhaled slowly, his senses extending toward the bar. He could hear her heartbeat over the music. A little fast, a little tired. Her scent—floral and earthy with a hint of rain—cut through the urban rot like the first breeze of spring.
• Someone touched her. A man. Too close. Too drunk. Mira flinched, brushing the hand away, but the man only laughed.
• Cassian’s hand curled into a fist. The urge to cross the street, to tear the man’s throat out, was nearly overwhelming. But no. Not yet. She would be terrified of him. He needed control. She needed time.
• He stepped back into the shadows as she escaped to the back alley for a smoke break. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out a crumpled cigarette. The flame from her lighter danced across her face—eyes haunted, lips trembling.
• Cassian exhaled slowly.
• He could not stay away.
• He moved.
• One step into the alley. Two. He stayed in the dark, his presence barely a whisper.
• Mira's breath hitched.
• She turned, her eyes scanning the alley. "Who's there?"
• Cassian said nothing. His gaze devoured every inch of her—her cheekbone, the slight bruise beneath her eye, the chapped lips she tried to hide behind strength.
• She shivered. Not from the cold.
• “I know you’re there.”
• His voice came, low and velvet-rich. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
• Mira froze. “Who are you?”
• He hesitated. A part of him wanted to step into the light. Another wanted to vanish and return later. But the bond wouldn’t let him run.
• He took a step forward. Light touched his face.
• Her eyes widened.
• Cassian Virell was unlike anyone she had ever seen—tall, pale-skinned, with black hair falling messily across high cheekbones. His eyes were molten silver, unblinking, ancient. He wore a dark tailored coat and gloves, like he had stepped out of another era.
• Mira stumbled back. “You’re that guy. The one who comes here… and never drinks.”
• His lips curled. “Guilty.”
• She looked at him, uncertain. “Are you stalking me?”
• “Would you believe me if I said I was protecting you?”
• Mira gave a bitter laugh. “From what? Creeps? That’s the bar’s entire customer base.”
• Cassian took another step. “There are worse things than drunk men.”
• Their eyes locked. Something shimmered between them—a thread, a pulse.
• She dropped the cigarette. “You’re strange.”
• “You have no idea.”
• He was too close now. She could smell him—dark spice and something colder, older. Her heart pounded. He could hear it. She crossed her arms, suddenly vulnerable.
• “Why me?” she whispered. “Why are you watching me?”
• He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The words burned in his chest: You’re mine.
• But that truth could shatter her.
• Instead, he said, “Because you shine.”
• Her brow creased. “That’s the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.”
• His smile faded. “It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”
• She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head and turned away. “Whatever. I have work.”
• He didn’t stop her. Just watched as she disappeared through the back door.
• But before the door closed, she looked back.
• And for the first time… she saw him.
• Cassian stood alone in the alley, the rain beginning again, soft and steady.
• The pull had begun.
• And neither of them would walk away unchanged.