Bride Of The Night

Chapter 11

### **Chapter 11: The Choice**

Lana's heart—if she could even call it that anymore—thudded in her chest, a painful reminder of what she had lost. Her fingers twitched, her mind racing as she stared at Morpheus, who stood just a few feet away, his presence overwhelming the entire room. Every fiber of her being screamed for *escape*, but escape was no longer an option.

Not with him here.

The room felt colder, and darker, and the shadows stretched long and sinister, like tendrils of something ancient, waiting to claim her. She could feel the power crackling in the air between them, the pulse of it humming beneath her skin, a low, constant thrum that echoed in time with her heartbeat—or what was left of it.

Morpheus's violet eyes gleamed, knowing, but distant. As if he already knew the outcome of whatever struggle was about to unfold. His lips parted into a soft smile, but it wasn't comforting. It was the smile of someone who had already won, someone who held all the pieces to a game she didn't yet understand.

"You can feel it, can't you?" His voice, smooth and dark, slid into her mind like silk. "The hunger. The power. It's growing stronger every day. There's no escaping it, Lana."

Her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to step back, to put distance between them, but she couldn't move. Every part of her felt like it was tethered to him, connected by an invisible thread. His power wrapped around her like a vine, curling tighter with each passing second.

"Leave me alone," she said, her voice a whisper, more a plea than a command. She hated how weak she sounded, and how small she felt in front of him.

Morpheus's expression softened for a moment, just the slightest twitch of his lips, but it quickly faded into something more predatory. He took a step toward her, and she stiffened instinctively.

"You think you can hide from yourself forever?" he asked, his tone soft, almost patronizing. "You've already crossed the threshold, Lana. This power inside you is a part of you now. You will *embrace* it or it will consume you."

"I'm not like you." Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to stand her ground. She wasn't sure why, or even if it would make any difference. But she couldn't—*wouldn't*—allow him to see her broken.

Morpheus tilted his head slightly, the way a wolf would regard its prey before deciding whether to devour it or let it run. "No, you're not like me. Not yet. But you will be. You have to understand, Lana. I did not just turn you. I chose you."

She flinched at the words. *Chosen*. The idea made her sick, like a mark of ownership.

"I don't want this. I don't want to be your puppet." The words were out before she could stop them, a sharp stab of defiance.

He looked at her as though she had just said something laughable. "You're not a puppet. You never were. This bond, what we share—it is not a leash, it is a *destiny*. And you will not fight it forever, Lana."

She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look away. His words were starting to make sense, in a way she didn't want them to. She could feel the truth of them vibrating inside her—*this* bond, this connection, was not just a physical thing. It was something deep, primal, woven into the very fabric of her soul. Something that could not be easily severed, no matter how much she wanted it.

"What am I supposed to do?" she whispered, more to herself than to him.

He took another step toward her, his presence like a weight pressing against her chest, suffocating, but not entirely unwelcome. The hunger roared inside her, furious and insistent, pulling her closer to him. To the power. To the dark embrace that beckoned her.