Rosaline's POV
I didn't sleep. Not in any way that counted.
My body lay still under the velvet sheets of Adam's penthouse, but my mind wandered the ruins. The altar. The flash of memory that had struck me like lightning.
Her eyes—my eyes—were older in that vision. Wiser. I had stood with power in my hands and people behind me. But it was gone now, turned to ruin. Dust. Ghosts.
And yet the energy still hummed inside me, like something had woken up.
At first, I thought it was a dream. Then my fingers began to burn.
I sat up with a jolt. The pendant beneath my skin glowed a deep, angry red. My skin prickled like I'd stood too close to a fire. Heat rippled from my palms, licking up my arms in ribbons of golden light before vanishing.
"Adam?" I called out, breathless. My voice echoed too loud in the stillness.
Silence.
I grabbed a hoodie and bolted from the room.
The entire floor was bathed in shadows, but the air itself felt… alive. Electric.
I followed the pull—down the corridor, past the locked room, into the back wing Adam rarely used. My feet moved instinctively, like some part of me knew the way.
Then I found him.
He stood in the training chamber—shirtless, barefoot, and utterly still.
Sweat glistened on his skin, and I could feel the power radiating off of him in waves. His chest rose and fell as if he'd just stopped fighting, but there were no weapons in sight.
He didn't turn around. "You felt it too."
It wasn't a question.
I walked toward him slowly. "I thought it was just a dream.
"It never is."
My hands curled at my sides. "Something's happening to me."
He turned. His eyes—red, glowing faintly—met mine. But there was no hunger in them this time. Only recognition.
"Your second affinity is surfacing," he said. "Fire."
I shook my head. "But I'm not ready. I can't—"
"You're not supposed to be ready," he said. "You're supposed to remember."
His words twisted through me, unlocking something deep. My hands flared again—this time brighter. Sparks danced at my fingertips.
I gasped and stepped back.
He came toward me slowly, expression unreadable. "You're not dangerous to me, Rose."
"I'm dangerous to everyone else."
"Good," he said. "They should be afraid."
I swallowed. My breath trembled.
"I don't want to lose control."
"You won't."
He raised his hand and placed it on my cheek. It was warm. Too warm for a vampire.
"You're burning," I whispered.
"No," he said. "You are."
We stood like that for a moment—caught between fear and something else I didn't have a name for. My body hummed, alive in a way it had never been before.
His thumb brushed my cheekbone.
"Why does this feel like something we've done before?" I asked.
His eyes darkened. "Because maybe we have."
I should've pulled away. Every logical part of me said I should run.
But I didn't.
Instead, I reached for his other hand and pressed it to my chest, just over the pendant's glow.
The contact sent a spark straight through me.
His fingers trembled.
"If I cross this line," he said softly, "I won't be able to go back."
"Then don't."
The words were out before I could stop them.
For the first time, his control slipped. The quiet restraint he wore like armor cracked. And in that crack, I saw him—not the vampire, not the guardian, but the man.
He kissed me.
It wasn't like the soft, awkward kisses I'd had in my human life.
This was consuming.
His lips were warm despite everything I knew about vampires. His hands pulled me closer, anchoring me to him as though the fire inside me needed his weight to hold it down.
The pendant flared—glowing bright red between our bodies. My power surged, and a wave of heat rolled outward, flickering the lights.
He broke the kiss first, breathing heavily.
"Your magic reacts to touch."
"No," I said. "To you."
Later, we stood at opposite sides of the chamber.
"You were holding back," I said.
Adam's jaw clenched. "I always am."
"Why?"
He looked at me with eyes too old for this world. "Because if I don't, I'll ruin you."
I stepped forward. "And if you don't let me in, you'll ruin us."
That got his attention.
The air crackled between us again, but this time, he didn't cross it.
"I need to show you something tomorrow," he said. "There's more to your power. More to what they're planning."
"They?"
"The Order. The cult that marked you."
I stared at him. "They're watching me already?"
He nodded.
I lifted my hand. The glow had faded, but the mark—now clearer—burned in celestial gold on my shoulder.
"Then we fight," I said.
He didn't smile.
But something in his posture softened.
"You're not what I expected."
"Neither are you."
That night, as I lay alone again, I replayed the kiss a hundred times.
It wasn't just about attraction. It was the tether that had started to pull me into the truth of what I was.
I could feel it—inside my blood, under my skin.
The fire had woken.
And now, there would be no putting it back