It’s too dark to tell what’s real—so dark she wonders if she’s imagining him again—just another trick of the shadows. But then comes the flicker: long, raven-purple hair, twisted horns catching the faintest glint, and those glowing eyes: amber and gold like embers smoldering in the void. Patterns shimmer across his skin like living ink, and his voice, low and unsettlingly calm, curls around her thoughts like smoke.
She never calls for him, but he’s always there.
Watching.
Even though he shouldn’t know what she’s doing…
It feels like he does.