The Chains We Cannot See

Reyna’s POV

I woke up gasping.

Not from a dream—no, I wasn’t lucky enough for this to be a nightmare. I could still feel it. The sting on my wrist. The phantom heat crawling beneath my skin. The weight of words I didn’t understand pressing against my ribs.

The bond has begun.

I shoved the thought away, swallowing against the dryness in my throat. My heart was beating too fast, each thud hammering against my ribs like it wanted out.

I tried to move—tried to push myself up, tried to run—only to feel it.

A force. Invisible. Unseen.

It wasn’t chains, wasn’t ropes, but something just as strong, just as binding.

My breath caught. I yanked my wrist away—nothing stopped me, nothing visible at least—but the second I tried to shift off the bed, my body refused.

Like a puppet with tangled strings.

A slow, curling panic wrapped around my lungs.

I wasn’t restrained. There were no ropes tying me down, no weights on my limbs. But something was holding me here.

And across the room—he watched.

Draven sat in a chair near the fireplace, one leg crossed over the other, looking impossibly at ease. The flames behind him cast long shadows across his sharp features—features that should have belonged to something carved out of stone, something cold, something lifeless.

But his eyes. His eyes were alive.

Crimson, deep and endless, flickering like embers in the dim light. Watching me. Always watching.

I swallowed hard, pushing against the fear curling in my stomach. I wasn’t going to sit here and let him trap me like some helpless little thing.

“Let me go.”

My voice wavered, but I forced steel into it.

Draven didn’t answer. Not right away. Just a slow tilt of his head, the faintest flicker of something like amusement curling the corner of his mouth.

"You don’t understand," he said finally, his voice smooth, almost lazy.

My fingers curled into the silk sheets. "Then make me understand."

Another silence. Another heartbeat where I thought I saw something flicker in his gaze—something dark, something knowing.

Then he stood.

I sucked in a breath.

It was effortless, the way he moved. Too smooth, too precise, too controlled. Like a shadow stretching. Like a creature that had never once been human and didn’t bother pretending to be.

Each step brought him closer, the faint scent of cedar and smoke curling through the air. My body tensed, warning bells screaming in my head.

But the moment he was close enough to touch—the pull snapped tight.

A sharp, breath-stealing ache bloomed deep inside me.

Not pain. Not fear. Something worse.

Something I didn’t understand.

A shiver ran down my spine, but I refused to let him see it. He was too close now, close enough that I could feel the coolness of his breath against my cheek,

the phantom heat of his body despite the distance that still remained. A contradiction. Cold and burning. Sin and silk. My pulse betrayed me, hammering

against my ribs, loud enough that I swore he could hear it. His gaze flicked to my throat—just for a second, just long enough to make my skin prickle. When his

eyes met mine again, something dark curled behind them, something patient. Like a beast that enjoyed the chase as much as the kill.

I sucked in a shaky breath, trying to shove it down, trying to make my body behave, but the more I fought it, the more aware I became of him.

Of his presence. Of the cold heat that bled from him, the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched like he was fighting something just as strong as I was.

And then—his hand brushed my wrist.

A flicker of heat. A jolt through my veins.

I gasped, yanking back—but too late.

The glow returned.

It pulsed beneath my skin, silver and gold weaving through my veins, forming strange, twisting symbols that flickered as if they were alive.

I froze.

“What is this?” My voice was barely a whisper, my pulse roaring in my ears.

Draven watched the light dance across my skin, his expression unreadable, but his grip tightened. Just for a second. Just enough for me to see it—the slip in control.

Then, he let go.

I pulled my wrist to my chest, breath coming too fast.

“The beginning of forever,” he said simply.

The words slammed into me, cold and final.

“No.” My head shook, even as something inside me twisted, as something inside me already knew. “No, I don’t belong to you.”

His smirk was slow, deliberate. Something sharp and cruel and knowing.

“Your soul disagrees.”

A sharp knock on the door made me flinch. I turned my head just as it creaked open.

A woman entered—small, delicate, dressed in dark silks that trailed behind her like mist. She didn’t look at me, didn’t react to my presence at all. She simply carried a bundle of fresh clothes in her hands, moving with quiet, practiced grace toward a basin near the window.

My throat clenched. Was she a prisoner too?

But Draven didn’t even glance at her. His eyes stayed on me, crimson and unreadable.

“Rest,” he murmured. “You’ll need your strength.”

A chill trickled down my spine.

“For what?”

He took a step back, his smirk curling wider.

“To survive me.”

And then—he was gone.

The door closed behind him with a soft click.

And I was left alone. Trapped, confused, and burning with something I refused to name.

The silence he left behind felt heavier than his presence. I exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to my chest as if that would steady the wild beat of my heart.

Survive him? The words echoed, twisting through my mind like a warning—or a promise. My skin still tingled where he’d touched me, the ghost of his fingers

lingering too long, too deep. I clenched my fists, forcing the feeling away, forcing myself to breathe. Whatever this was—whatever he was—I couldn’t let him

break me. I wouldn’t.