Chapter Three: The Pull of Power
The inn's flickering lanterns cast golden shadows against the wood-paneled walls as Selene paced, barefoot and restless. The storm outside mirrored the storm within her — thunder growled through the sky just as magic hummed beneath her skin, awakened and unsettled.
She hadn't meant to draw them both to her. And yet…
Lucien stood in the corner, his crimson eyes watching her like a starving predator sizing up prey. There was hunger there, yes, but also something else — restraint, curiosity, the faint echo of old wounds.
On the opposite side of the room, Ronan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, shirt clinging to his sweat-slicked chest. His wolf stirred beneath the surface, golden irises flickering like fire, drawn to Selene's scent and the invisible thread between them all.
"I didn't summon either of you," Selene said tightly, her voice clipped.
"No," Lucien murmured, stepping forward. "But you called to something in us. Something old."
"She's not a summoner," Ronan growled, but it lacked venom. His gaze was already sliding down her curves, noting how the stormlight danced across her bare shoulders. "She's… something else."
Selene's eyes narrowed, her magic pulsing against her ribs. "Stop talking like I'm a prophecy."
"You're not," Lucien replied, moving closer, his voice a velvet drawl. "You're a spark in a room filled with dry kindling."
"And we've been waiting to burn," Ronan added.
Her breath hitched.
The air between them crackled, thick with power, heat, tension that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with what pulsed in her blood. The bond wasn't complete, not yet — but it was waking. And whatever they were becoming, it wasn't human.
Selene turned away, but Lucien was suddenly there, behind her, close enough that his cool breath fanned over her neck. "You can feel it, can't you? The tether binding us."
"And it's only getting stronger," Ronan added from her other side, stepping in until the air was saturated with their scents — iron, earth, and storm magic.
Her lips parted. "This isn't safe."
"No," Lucien agreed, brushing a strand of hair from her face, "but nothing worth wanting ever is."
Their hands never touched her — not yet. But the promise of touch, the undeniable pull of fate, lingered like lightning ready to strike.
Selene shivered, caught between two monsters who should have been enemies. But instead, they stood like guardians… or devourers.
Her pulse thundered.
Something in the world had shifted. The three of them were no longer strangers orbiting fate. They were the storm.
And the storm was only beginning.