The house was quiet that evening. Not tense. Just quiet.
Eliana sat on the couch with a book she hadn't actually read in ten minutes. She could feel him watching her.
"You're staring," she murmured without looking up.
"I know."
She lowered the book slowly. Sebastian was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes darker than usual.
"Why?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked toward her—slow, deliberate, like she was something fragile. Or dangerous.
"I've been thinking," he said softly.
"That's never comforting."
The corner of his mouth lifted. He stopped in front of her, then sat. Closer than usual. Their knees touched. Her pulse quickened. He noticed.
"Does it still bother you?" he asked quietly.
"The mark?" Her fingers instinctively brushed her neck. It didn't hurt anymore. It just felt warm sometimes.
"No," she admitted. "It just feels… there."
His eyes followed her hand. "It is."
Something felt different tonight. Not in him. In her. When he leaned slightly closer, she could smell him more clearly. Not cologne. Not soap. Him. Warm. Metallic. Familiar.
Her breath slowed. "That's new."
His gaze sharpened. "What is?"
"You."
He didn't move. "What about me?"
"You smell different."
His expression shifted subtly. "How different?"
She swallowed. "Stronger."
The word lingered between them. Sebastian leaned back slightly. "You shouldn't be able to notice that."
Her heart skipped. "Notice what?"
He studied her carefully now. "How long?"
"How long what?"
"Since you started reacting."
She frowned. "Reacting to what?"
And then she realized something. His heartbeat. She could hear it. Soft. Steady. Too clear.
Her fingers curled into the couch. "I don't like that look."
"What look?"
"The one where you're thinking and not telling me."
He exhaled slowly. "It's nothing."
It wasn't nothing. She knew it wasn't.
He leaned forward again, close enough that their foreheads almost touched. "You're safe," he said quietly.
The words were meant to comfort. Instead, they made her chest tighten. Safe from what?
Her hand lifted slowly and touched his chest, right over his heart. For a second—it was loud. Too loud. Her breath caught. Sebastian stilled.
"Eliana."
She couldn't move. It wasn't hunger. It wasn't fear. It was something else. Something pulling.
Then it stopped, like a thread snapping. She blinked and leaned back quickly. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that."
Sebastian didn't answer. He was staring at her neck. At the mark. Dark. Slightly warmer than before. He brushed his thumb just beneath it. Her breath trembled.
"It's reacting," he murmured.
"To what?"
His eyes lifted to hers. "To me."
Silence. Not romantic silence. Heavy silence.
He stood suddenly. "I need to check something."
"Sebastian."
He paused. She looked smaller from where she sat. More human. More unaware.
"You're not changing," he said quietly.
But it sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Later that night, when Eliana finally fell asleep, the mark on her neck pulsed once in the dark.
And this time—
Sebastian wasn't the one who felt it.