The First

The night was unusually quiet, as if the city itself was holding its breath.

I sat alone on the rooftop of the penthouse, legs pulled to my chest, staring at the moon as it hung heavy and gold above the skyline.

A thin breeze lifted the ends of my hair. The pendant beneath my skin had cooled, but my veins still pulsed like they remembered the fire of earlier.

Of Adam's hands. His mouth. The feel of his soul pressed against mine like a forgotten melody.

We hadn't spoken much since the locked room. Since the truth spilled out like blood on stone.

He'd given me space. I hated that I needed it.Because all I really wanted… was to feel him again.Not just his hands or his lips but his presence.

His silence, his steadiness, the way he looked at me like I wasn't some bomb waiting to explode but the answer to a riddle he'd been waiting centuries to solve.

I tilted my head up, whispering into the stars, "What do you want from me?"

The answer came, not from above but from behind.

"I want you to remember."

I didn't turn around.

"You always do that," I said softly. "Appear when I'm thinking about you."

"Because you never stop," he said. There was no arrogance in it. Just truth.

I felt his warmth before he sat beside me. He didn't crowd. He never did.

The space between us was still filled with the echoes of what we hadn't done.

Of what we wanted to do.

"I found a page in the Chronicle last night," I said. "It talked about soul convergence."

Adam was quiet for a moment.

"That's not a ritual," he finally said. "It's… a merging. Rare. Dangerous."

"Why?"

"Because it requires absolute vulnerability."

"And you don't like being vulnerable."

"No," he said. "Because it changes you. Irreversibly. If we complete that bond… I won't just be your protector or your partner. I'll be tethered to you beyond death."

"You already are."

He turned his head and met my eyes.

There it was again.

That silent storm.

The kind of longing that filled every breath but never dared to ask for more.

I turned back to the stars. "Do you miss it?"

"What?"

"Being human."

He was quiet so long I thought he wouldn't answer.

Then, softly, "No. But I miss feeling human. I miss the illusion. The ache in the bones. The way time used to mean something. I miss being breakable."

I looked at him.

"You still are," I said. "You just hide it better."

A gust of wind stirred between us.

We both knew what was coming before either of us moved.

When I leaned in, he met me halfway.

The kiss wasn't fast. It didn't burn like the one in the ruins.

It was slow. Deep.

The kind of kiss that asked permission before it devoured.

My hands slid up his chest, fingers brushing his collarbone. His breath caught, and I felt it in the way his mouth moved against mine.

The pendant between us pulsed once—softly. This time, it didn't flare. It warmed.

Welcoming.

His hands moved to my waist, then to my back. Gentle, reverent, but sure.

When he pulled me onto his lap, I didn't resist.

Our foreheads pressed together.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice raw.

I smiled. "I'm not."

He laughed softly. "Good."

"Why?"

"Because this should terrify us both."

We didn't go inside.

There was something sacred about the rooftop—the wind, the stars, the scent of ozone clinging to the air. My body pressed to his, legs wrapped around his hips, and every point of contact hummed with power. It wasn't just desire—it was recognition.

When his mouth trailed down my neck, I sighed his name.

He froze for half a second, then whispered, "Say it again."

"Adam," I said, firmer now.

He groaned softly, lips returning to my throat, collarbone, and shoulder. I arched against him, feeling the magic slide between us like silk.

Then he laid me down on the stone.

His jacket became a makeshift bed.

His hands slid beneath my top, not hurried, but careful, testing the lines of my ribs, the slope of my waist.

When our bare skin met, the world shifted.

A wave of wind exploded outward from the rooftop.

The pendant flared bright, but not blinding. Just enough to cast everything in soft red-gold light.

I should've felt embarrassed, exposed.

But I didn't.

Because he was looking at me like I was something holy.

And I felt it his fear, his restraint.

So I touched his face.

"You can let go," I said.

He pressed his lips to my wrist. "Not yet."

He took his time.

There was no rush. No urgency.

Just knowing.

Hands exploring. Breathcatching. Kisses that dragged instead of darted. Tongues that

collided, making me want to seize the moment. 

I don't remember when we reach the bedroom. 

The bedroom was dim, moonlight spilling across the sheets. He moved with care, never rushing, never taking more than I gave.

He kissed my collarbone, my jaw, and the dip of my throat.

My breath caught as his hand slid over my waist, sliding down to my core. 

His fingers traced the shape of my ribs, the lines of my scars. He didn't look away. He looked at me fully, tenderly, with awe.

"You're beautiful," he said. "And not because of this" he kissed the pendant, "but because of what's in here." His fingers rested over my heart.

He let me undress him, let me see every inch of the man beneath the myth.

There were more scars than I expected.

Some are shallow. Some deep.

One ran across his abdomen, old and jagged. I kissed it without asking.

He exhaled sharply, hands tightening on my waist. 

"Good."

We fell into bed, limbs tangled, breath shared.

When he entered me again, it wasn't rushed or wild. It was slow painfully, reverently slow. He watched my face the whole time, adjusting to my rhythm, matching my breath.

The bond flared.

The pendant burned hot between us.

And still, he didn't stop.

We moved together like we were always meant to find each other.

And maybe we were.

Each kiss, each touch, each thrust pulled something deeper from within me. Not just pleasure but power. My magic rose with it, curling around our bodies like smoke.

Wind stirred in the room.

Candles flickered.

My skin shimmered faintly with light.

And he saw it all.

Not once did he look away.

Afterward, we lay in silence, bodies pressed close, the air warm with what we'd created.

His fingers traced patterns on my back. My head rested against his chest.

I felt… full. Not just of sensation, but of certainty.

"You're glowing," he said softly.

"So are you," I replied.

He kissed the top of my head. "We completed the first seal."

"What does that mean?"

"It means the bond is real. And permanent."

I didn't panic.

I smiled.

"Good."

But the smile faded when I saw his expression shift.

"What is it?"

"The Order will feel it," he said. "They'll know."

"They already marked me."

"This makes it worse."

He turned his head, eyes distant.

"They'll come faster now."

I stared up at him.

"Then let them."