Chapter 11 – A Cold Revelation
Vincent pulled his sleek black car to a slow stop in front of Nosi's house. The night air was quiet, but something in his chest buzzed with unease. He stepped out and rounded the vehicle, opening the passenger side where Nosi leaned, half-asleep and still reeking of alcohol and tears.
"You're home," he murmured gently, steadying her as she swayed into him.
She mumbled something incoherent, her head resting against his shoulder like she belonged there. He led her up the porch steps and opened the door with a quiet push. Once inside, he helped her onto the couch, careful not to jostle her too much. She slumped into the cushions with a tired sigh, curling in on herself.
Vincent stood over her, watching her breathe. There was a strange innocence to her now—so different from the fire she often showed. The strong, defiant Nosi who challenged everyone, even herself. But tonight, she looked small. Vulnerable.
He adjusted the throw blanket over her. For a moment, he simply stood there, staring. His instincts, honed through centuries in the underworld, told him something was shifting. But he didn't know what yet.
With a quiet breath, he turned to leave, remembering that Ivan was still passed out in the backseat.
He returned to the car and opened the rear door. Ivan was slouched against the window, her makeup slightly smudged, her mouth slightly open as she breathed steadily in her sleep. Her long braids fell over her shoulders, glinting softly under the streetlamp.
"Ivan," he said, nudging her shoulder gently. "Come on. You can't sleep here."
She stirred but didn't open her eyes. Then, in a low, slurred whisper, she murmured, "You're cold... and dangerous."
Vincent froze.
The words weren't sharp, but they sliced through him all the same.
He leaned closer, staring at her face. There was no fear in her voice, only quiet truth—like her soul had recognized something her mind hadn't.
And that was when it happened.
A jolt—powerful, raw—rushed through his chest. His breath caught. His body stilled. His demon instincts screamed one word:
Mate.
His eyes widened. "No," he whispered.
The mark. The pull. The unmistakable bond that only fate could forge.
This wasn't just anyone.
Ivan... was his mate.
His heart thudded like a drum in his ears, fighting against logic. She was human. This wasn't how it was supposed to work. Demon-kind never bonded with humans. The union was dangerous—almost impossible. And yet, the proof was right in front of him, breathing softly in his backseat.
He stared at her, shaken.
Her skin glowed faintly under the car's interior lights. Her pulse thrummed like music in his ears. Her scent—warm, sweet, and alive—was like nothing he had known before.
His hands trembled as he brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, not touching her skin directly. He didn't dare. Her lips parted slightly as if she felt him even in her sleep.
"You don't know what this means," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "And if I have anything to say about it... you never will."
Because it wasn't safe.
Not for her.
He leaned back slowly, the storm inside him tightening. Ivan had no idea. She probably never would. He couldn't let this happen. He wasn't ready—and the world wasn't ready for what their bond could mean.
But even as he closed the door and climbed into the driver's seat, his hands still shook on the steering wheel.
He looked back once more before starting the car.
She was still asleep, peaceful and unaware. But Vincent? He was unraveling.
Fate had already broken rules with Nosi.
Now, it was shattering them entirely.
He drove into the night with Ivan still unconscious beside him, his thoughts spiraling, his control cracking.
And all the while, the only thing he could hear was her voice echoing in his mind.
"You're cold... and dangerous."
She had no idea how right she was.
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