The Fire We Feed

The forest pressed in around them, thick with shadows, every branch like a claw scratching against the night. The cold bit at Taryn's skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat coiling low in her belly—the unbearable warmth radiating from Lucien.

The cursed chain binding their wrists hummed between them, pulling taut with every step she tried to take away from him. A reminder that no matter how hard she pulled, she was stuck. Stuck with him.

And he was enjoying every second of it.

Taryn halted abruptly, yanking the chain hard enough to make him stumble. The chain snapped taut between them, and a searing jolt shot up her arm, making her wince. Lucien hissed through his teeth, his free hand flexing as if shaking off the sting. 

Lucien, looking unbothered, took his sweet time recovering, brushing invisible dust from his coat, tilting his head like he was savoring the moment. "You pull me closer every time you get mad," he said smoothly, giving the chain a playful tug. "It's almost flattering."

Taryn shot him a glare. "Keep it up, and I'll make sure you walk into the next tree we pass."

Lucien chuckled under his breath, his silver eyes gleaming. "Careful, warrior. I'm starting to think you like having me this close."

Her nails dug into her palms. "You wish."

His grin widened. "Oh, I do."

"What the hell do you want from me?" Taryn demanded, frustration bubbling over.

His silver eyes gleamed with amusement—an infuriating, lazy amusement that made her blood boil. "I told you already," he said, tilting his head just enough to make her want to slap him. "I want you."

Taryn's heart stuttered in her chest. 

The audacity. 

She yanked at the chain again, harder this time, making him lurch forward with a jerk. Pain lanced through her wrist again, as if the chain took personal offense to her anger. She bit back a curse, but Lucien wasn't so restrained—his sharp intake of breath was followed by a muttered, "Gods, you're going to rip my arm off." Taryn grimaced but didn't let go. If she had to suffer through the cursed thing, he would too.

"You're impossible," she hissed. "Stop playing games."

Lucien chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "Who says I'm playing?"

"You don't know me."

"Oh?" He took a step closer, the chain rattling softly between them. "I know you better than you think, warrior."

Taryn clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms to keep from doing something reckless—like shoving him into the nearest tree. Or kissing him just to wipe that grin off his face.

Lucien seemed to sense her inner turmoil, because his grin widened. "Admit it," he said, his voice dropping low. "You've been thinking about it. About me."

"You're delusional."

"Am I?" He shifted closer, closing the narrow space between them. The chain pulled tighter, forcing them to move in sync. "Because every time I take a step toward you, you don't step back."

Taryn cursed under her breath, realizing he was right. She should've moved. She should've Cut off her own hand, and put a damn forest between them by now. But instead, she was standing there—frozen, furious, and traitorously aware of how close he was.

The chain rattled between them, glowing faintly as it tugged at her wrist with insistent magic. It felt like more than just magic—it felt deliberate. As if the chain, in all its cursed intent, knew exactly what it was doing: tightening the space between them, winding them closer until escape was no longer an option. The tension between them felt both literal and unbearable. No matter how she shifted, it forced her closer—until her shoulder brushed his chest, and his smirk deepened, like the chain was doing exactly what he wanted.

"It's like the chain knows," Lucien murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "No running allowed."

The scent of him—dark and sharp, like rain-soaked wood—wrapped around her, making it impossible to think clearly.

"You don't scare me," she whispered, though even she knew it was a lie.

Lucien's grin softened—just a fraction—into something more dangerous. "Liar."

His hand lifted slowly, fingers brushing along the inside of her wrist where her pulse pounded beneath the skin. Taryn sucked in a sharp breath, but it wasn't enough to steady her.

"Your heart's racing, warrior." His voice was a low murmur, velvet-soft, sliding under her skin. "Say the word, and I'll stop."

She clenched her jaw, hating how her breath hitched at his words, how the heat between them made her skin prickle. "I don't—"

"You don't want me?" Lucien's voice was soft and teasing, but his gaze turned sharp, intent. "Then why are you still standing here?"

The chain rattled again, tugging her wrist toward him with a faint hum of magic. She tried to resist it, but the pull was relentless, binding them closer until every shift pressed his body against hers. The chain tugged harder, and the sharp sting raced up her arm, forcing her closer with every step of resistance. Taryn gritted her teeth, stifling a wince, but Lucien didn't miss the way her breath hitched.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" he murmured, voice edged with dark amusement. "Guess that means no more running away." Lucien's smirk deepened, his voice slipping into that infuriating purr. "It likes you mad, I think. Or maybe it just likes dragging you back to me." His fingers gave a slight, taunting tug on the chain, and the resulting jolt made her gasp. "See? It has good taste."

Taryn glared through the pain, her nails digging into her palms. "Stop it, vampire."

Lucien's grin was infuriating, all smug satisfaction. "You first." Lucien whispered, his lips so close to hers they were almost a promise. "Careful. You might just admit you like this."

Taryn gritted her teeth, furious at the way her heart betrayed her—hammering wildly against her ribs. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

"No." His voice dropped lower, the teasing melting into something darker, more deliberate. "But I know you."

He leaned in, his breath brushing against her cheek—slow, deliberate, maddening. The chain between them went slack, and suddenly there was no distance left. For a moment, the magic seemed to hum approvingly, wrapping tighter around their wrists, forcing them closer until it was impossible to tell where the pain ended and the heat between them began. Taryn's pulse roared, every nerve caught between pleasure and agony, the two blurring together until she couldn't tell which one she hated more. His hand slid up her arm, slow and deliberate, fingers curling lightly at her elbow. A shiver rippled down her spine.

Her breath faltered. Damn him. Damn the chain. Damn everything about this moment that felt both unbearable and inevitable.

"You want me to touch you," Lucien whispered, his voice dipping into something more dangerous. "Say it."

Her lips parted, but the word stayed lodged in her throat, a lump of denial and something far more dangerous. Saying it would mean crossing a line she wasn't ready for. 

And once it was crossed, there'd be no taking it back.

Lucien tilted his head, his silver eyes losing some of their amusement. "Afraid?"

Taryn's throat tightened. "Of you? No."

He gave her a small, knowing smile—one that wasn't mocking but felt dangerously close to understanding. "No. Just afraid of what it means." For a heartbeat, Lucien's expression softened, the cocky mask slipping away. "You're not the only one afraid, you know." The words came quietly, raw and unguarded, slipping out before he could stop them. His silver eyes met hers, bare of charm or pretense, just for a heartbeat—and it hit Taryn harder than she wanted to admit. Her breath hitched, her chest tightening at the unfamiliar weight of sincerity in his voice. For a moment, it felt like he wasn't just challenging her—but inviting her to fall, right along with him. 

"It doesn't mean anything," she whispered back, but her voice wavered—so thin it held no conviction.

"Liar." His grin returned, sharp and infuriating as ever. His fingers grazed along her wrist, tracing slow circles over her skin. "All you have to do is say the word. One word, Taryn."

She could feel his breath against her lips, the warmth of him sinking into her bones, unraveling every defense she had.

It would be so easy to close the distance, to let the heat pull her under.

Her lips parted—just barely—but before she could say anything, the magic of the chain thrummed, dragging her even closer until there was no space left between them. Lucien's hand drifted to her waist, his grip loose but certain. "Still think you don't want this?"

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. Every nerve in her body buzzed with the unbearable tension crackling between them. She should move. She should say no.

Her hands betrayed her, twisting in the fabric of his shirt. The intent blurred—half a pull, half a shove—and both felt equally dangerous. Holding him like this, feeling him so close, threatened to unravel something she wasn't ready to face.

Lucien's lips grazed hers—featherlight, almost accidental—and the world tilted, spinning out of control.

Lucien's expression softened, and just for a heartbeat, it felt like there was no performance—just the truth of what simmered between them, raw and unguarded.

"Taryn…" Her name on his lips was almost reverent, a promise or a plea—she couldn't tell which.

The chain went slack, giving her the choice. She could step away. Or not. The choice full of something dangerous and unspoken.

Just when it felt like the air between them might shatter—just when she thought she might let it—

A branch snapped somewhere in the forest.

Lucien's entire body shifted, every muscle going taut as his head snapped toward the sound. The chain jolted suddenly, magic thrumming in warning, pulling their wrists together with a sharp snap. Lucien's hand shot out to steady her, fingers curling around her arm. The shift from tension to instinct was seamless—his grip tightening as if protecting her was as natural as breathing. One moment, his hand was a temptation against her skin; the next, it was an anchor—steady and unyielding as he pulled her from the edge of the moment into the present danger.

For a moment, something dangerous flickered behind his eyes—something raw and unguarded, like fury not at the monster, but at the lost moment between them. His jaw clenched, the mask slipping just long enough for her to glimpse a frustration that wasn't entirely about a beast closing in.

"Stay behind me," Lucien said, his voice low, sharp, and devoid of the softness that had coated it moments before. The shift was so sudden, so stark, that Taryn's mind struggled to keep up. One moment, the air had been thick with unspoken promises. Now, all that mattered was the danger closing in around them.

The forest groaned under the weight of something heavy moving through it—something big. A low growl echoed through the trees, vibrating through the ground beneath their feet.

"Move!" Lucien hissed, grabbing her wrist and yanking her into motion just as a massive shadow burst through the underbrush. The chain jerked hard, digging into her wrist with a pulse of burning magic. Taryn gritted her teeth, shoving through the pain as Lucien yanked her forward, his grip unyielding. The curse didn't care about danger—it only cared about keeping them bound, whether they survived or not.

They rolled to the side as the creature lunged—a hulking, twisted beast with glowing eyes and jagged claws. Taryn hit the ground hard, the impact jarring her bones, but adrenaline kicked in before she could feel the pain.

Lucien was already on his feet, a blur of movement as he intercepted the monster. His hand shot out, catching it by the throat. The beast snarled and thrashed, but Lucien's grip was unyielding.

"Taryn—now!" he barked, his voice sharp and unwavering.

She didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, she sprang forward, her blade flashing in the dim light. The creature let out a guttural snarl as her knife sliced cleanly through its neck, black blood spraying across the forest floor.

The beast crumpled at their feet, twitching once before going still.

Silence settled over the forest, heavy and suffocating.

Taryn stood there, panting, the blade still clenched in her hand. Her pulse roared in her ears, louder than the dying wind.

"Well," Lucien murmured, brushing black blood from his hands with casual elegance. "If you wanted excitement, warrior, you only had to ask." His grin returned, slow and wicked, cutting through the lingering tension like a blade.

Taryn shot him a glare, though her heart was still racing—and not from the fight.

"You—"

"What?" His grin widened, lazy and satisfied, but there was a glint in his eye—something sharper, as if he knew just how close they had come to breaking. "You want to pick up where we left off?"

Her cheeks burned, and she cursed the traitorous flicker of heat in her chest. "In your dreams, vampire."

Lucien chuckled, low and dark. "You'd be surprised how often that happens."

Taryn rolled her eyes, but her heart was still pounding, the tension between them far from resolved. The forest might have interrupted the moment—but it hadn't erased it.

Not by a long shot.

And worse—she knew Lucien wasn't going to let her forget it.

Before she could fire back, a low, distant rumble cut through the forest—a sound that made both of them freeze. The ground trembled beneath their feet, just slightly, as if something massive was shifting deep within the earth.

Lucien's grin vanished. He straightened, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the treeline. "That's not good."

Taryn's heart sank. "What now?"

The rumbling grew louder, accompanied by the creak of splintering wood as distant trees began to sway—and fall. The sound was getting closer, fast. 

Their hunt had found them.