Theo watched her from the shadows of the porch as Elena leaned into the railing, her shoulders hunched against the cold night air. Her bloodshot eyes were fixed on the distant stars, and he could see the tracks of fresh tears glistening on her cheeks. The realization tore at him, a gnawing ache settling in his chest. It was his fault, after all. How many times had she been in danger now because of some reckless decision on his part?


    He sighed, bracing himself as he approached her. The boards beneath his feet creaked softly, breaking the silence. She turned her head slightly, just enough to glance at him, and he caught a glimpse of the fire still burning behind her eyes—anger, fear, pain, all simmering beneath the surface.


    “Here,” he offered, extending the glass of whiskey he held. “Thought this might help.”


    She took the glass without a word, her fingers brushing against his, sending a jolt through him that he tried to ignore. She turned away again, swirling the amber liquid before taking a small sip. Theo lingered beside her, watching as she seemed to retreat into herself, back into the silence that hung heavy between them. He wanted to say something—to apologize, to comfort her—but the words caught in his throat, tangled up with his own guilt and regret.


    After several long moments, she finally broke the quiet. “Where are David and Arthur?”


    “Your brother left,” he replied, keeping his voice steady. “He said he needed to speak with his commander—to see if there’s anything that can be done about... the bond.”


    She gave a noncommittal hum, her gaze still fixed on the sky. “And Arthur?”


    “He... left to feed.”


    She turned to face him fully now, her eyes sharper, the fire burning hotter. “And what about you? What are you still doing here?” Her voice carried an edge that cut through the night air, sharp and accusing.


    Theo remained calm, knowing she had every right to be angry. “I thought you might need someone around,” he admitted, his tone careful. “In case you... wanted to talk.”


    She stared at him, searching his expression for a moment, and then, to his surprise, her gaze softened, though her frustration was far from gone. “How long have you known?”


    He blinked, caught off guard. “Known what?”


    She turned back to the stars, exhaling a breath that clouded in the cool air. “About my bloodline. When my brother said it, you and Arthur didn’t look surprised.”


    “I didn’t know for long,” he confessed, his voice low. “Arthur only told me a little while ago, but... I had my suspicions.”


    Her lips pressed into a thin line, annoyance flashing across her features, though she quickly smoothed it away.“So, it’s all true, then?” She gestured vaguely toward the sky. “All the religious things we’ve been told about?”


    Theo hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “He’s real,” he said slowly, choosing his words with care. “In the sense that... something brought this all into being. But honestly, anything beyond that?” He shrugged, a hint of weariness in his voice. “It’s just a guessing game, Elena. We all have our beliefs, our interpretations.”


    She stared at him for a long time, her expression unreadable. Then she let out a breath, almost a laugh, but it was devoid of humor. “So even you don’t know.”


    Theo’s mouth quirked in a faint, tired smile. “I don’t have all the answers. Never claimed to.”


    Elena nodded slowly, absorbing his words, though they didn’t seem to offer much comfort. She turned back to the stars, her grip tightening around the glass.


    “You owe me, you know,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.


    His jaw tightened. God, how he knew that. She had saved his life while he had nearly taken hers. And if that hadn’t been enough, he’d just tied her fate to his own, binding her to an object that put her directly in the crosshairs of the most powerful, most sadistic vampire he knew. To say he owed her was an understatement.


    “Name what you want,” he replied, the words heavy with sincerity. “I’ll do anything.”


    She let out a shuddering breath, her fingers tightening around the glass in her hand as she considered his promise. For a long time, she said nothing, her gaze fixed on the dark expanse of the sky, the stars blurring in her vision. Then she turned to him, and he noticed a faint tremble in her lip, the way her chin tilted as if she were steeling herself against whatever came next.


    “Start by telling me the truth,” she said, her voice raw. “No more secrets. I want to know everything—about you, about this artifact, about whatever you’ve been hiding.”


    Theo met her gaze, the weight of her words settling like a stone in his chest. He nodded slowly. “You deserve that,” he said. “I promise, I’ll answer any question you have.”


    They stood in silence for a moment, the gravity of his promise lingering between them.


    “How do you do it, Theo?” Her voice wavered, and when she looked up at him, he saw the tears brimming in her eyes again, slipping down her cheeks in silent streams. “How do you carry all of this—everything you’ve been through—without breaking? Because I... I feel like I’m drowning under it all.”


    He stared at her, a pang of something deep and painful twisting through him. He wanted to reach out, to wipe away the tears that glistened on her skin, but he didn’t trust himself to touch her—not when every instinct screamed at him to pull her closer, to soothe her with more than just words.


    Elena’s hands gripped the railing, her knuckles pale in the moonlight. Her voice wavered, and she swallowed before she spoke. “You said you’d do anything for me, right? That you’d give me whatever I wanted.”


    Theo’s expression grew cautious. He could sense the shift in her, the fragility beneath her anger. He nodded slowly, his voice low. “I did. And I meant it.”


    She met his gaze, searching for something in his eyes, something to anchor her in the swirling chaos inside her. “I need... I need to forget for a while. To not feel.” Her voice broke, a tremor of desperation threading through it. “You can do that, can’t you?”


    Theo stiffened. He knew what she was asking, even if she hadn’t put it into words. His throat tightened. “Elena, I—”


    She reached out, her hand finding his, squeezing with a kind of urgency that made his heart ache. “Please. I can’t stand the weight of everything. I need this.”


    The request hung in the air between them, thick with unsaid implications. Her grip on his hand tightened, and when her eyes met his, he saw the plea there, the unspoken desire for more than just oblivion. It twisted something inside him, a war between his own guilt and his need to protect her.


    “Elena, you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he murmured, his voice rough, the conflict inside him spilling into every word. “If I put you under...it’s…it’s not as simple as you think.” He let the words hang there, unable to bring himself to admit how easily he could lose control, how much he was already teetering on the edge.


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    Her gaze was resolute, a tear slipping down her cheek, her lips parting with a slight tremor. “Maybe I don’t. But you promised.”


    She was looking at him with such raw, open vulnerability that it made something in his chest twist painfully. Her trust, her plea—it was too much, and yet, how could he deny her when she was so desperate for relief?


    He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to summon the strength to refuse her, to do the right thing but the feel of her hand in his, warm and trembling, made it impossible. His control was already fraying, the space between them charged with something he could hardly bear.


    “Elena... if I do this...” he began, his voice barely more than a whisper. He couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t put into words the tangled mess of his own desires and fears.


    Her hand tightened around his, urging him forward, her voice barely audible in the quiet night. “I know, Theo. I know. But I need it. Please.”


    Something inside him broke at her plea, a final barrier crumbling under the weight of her need. His other hand came up, cradling her face, his thumb brushing away the tears that had gathered on her cheeks.


    He felt the pulse of his compulsion stirring beneath his fingertips, and he knew that if he gave in, he’d be crossing a line—but he couldn’t bring himself to pull back. With a pained breath, he let his power flow through his voice, through his touch, slipping gently into her mind. “Close your eyes, Elena.”


    She obeyed, her lashes fluttering shut, her breath caught as the compulsion took hold. Her body relaxed, the tension easing from her shoulders, and he could feel her mind sinking. But there was something else in her expression now—something softer, a kind of surrender that made his own heart ache.


    His hands trembled as they skimmed over her shoulders, a hesitant brush against her skin, trying to convince himself that this was only to ease her pain. But the way she leaned into his touch, the soft sound that escaped her lips, told him she wanted more, even if she couldn’t say it.


    He whispered to her, his voice barely more than a breath. “You can relax. Just... breathe and let it go.”


    As Theo’s compulsion wrapped around Elena’s mind, her breath became slow and steady, her body going limp in his arms. Her fingers still held on to his hand, a silent anchor between them, even as she drifted further into the soothing void he’d offered her. He could feel the weight of her trust settling on his chest like a leaden chain—heavy, binding, inescapable.


    His thumb brushed over her knuckles, lingering on the softness of her skin, a gentleness that felt out of place amidst the turmoil inside him.


    “Elena...” His voice cracked with the conflict tearing through him. He cupped her face, his touch feather-light, tracing the line of her jaw, brushing against her lips as if testing the boundary of what she wanted and what he could bear to give.


    She turned her head slightly, leaning into the caress, her breath catching in the moment. Even under the compulsion, a part of her reached out, responding to his touch, seeking the comfort of his closeness. Theo’s heart wrenched at the sight—her vulnerability laid bare, her trust so complete that it terrified him.


    He knew he should pull back, that he should let her rest, keep things as they were. This was a boundary he shouldn''t cross, a line he had promised himself he wouldn''t let blur. But the warmth of her skin against his palm, the way she leaned into him, made it feel like his resolve was slipping away, inch by inch.


    Against his better judgment, he dipped his head closer, his lips barely brushing against hers—a whisper of a touch that lingered with the taste of longing. He held himself there, on the edge, waiting for the faintest sign, a reason to stop, painfully aware that she may not be able to give one. Elena only sighed into the kiss, the sound soft and full of yearning, a quiet surrender that broke something inside him.


    He deepened the kiss, gently, carefully, as if he might shatter her if he pushed too hard. His hands slid down, finding the curve of her waist, pulling her closer against him. She responded in kind, her body arching into his, a wordless invitation that reverberated through him, settling into the hollow places he thought he’d buried long ago.


    Theo’s mind was a blur of conflicting desires—wanting to give her what she asked for, needing to protect her from the very darkness she sought.


    He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers, his voice a hoarse murmur against her lips. “You can ask me to stop, Elena. Even now... I’ll stop.”


    He let the compulsion recede slightly, giving her one last chance to walk away. She was quiet for a moment, her breaths mingling with his, her body still trembling in his hold. Her eyes remained closed, but a soft, broken word slipped past her lips. “Please...”


    And with that, Theo’s resolve shattered. A quiet sigh of relief slipped from Elena’s lips as he drew her back under into the depths of oblivion, her mind and body surrendering fully to the currents of his will.


    He kissed her again, his touch becoming more insistent, his hands roaming with a tenderness that surprised even him. He moved slowly, reverently, as if trying to carve this moment into something more than just desperation—something that might feel like solace, even if only for a little while.


    And through it all, he hated himself for giving in, for not being stronger, for letting the lines blur between what she needed and what he wanted. But he knew that tomorrow, when the compulsion faded and the weight of reality returned, he’d take that guilt upon himself, shouldering it as just another sin to carry in silence.


    For now, he would give her this—an escape, a fleeting sanctuary, knowing full well that it could never keep out the darkness forever.


    ***********************************************************


    Theo traced idle patterns across Elena''s bare back as they lay in bed, trying to hold on to this fragile moment of peace. It was a rarity, this sense of closeness, a comfort he had not felt in years. He could almost pretend, for just an instant, that the world outside had ceased to exist. But even as he tried to savor the feeling, he knew it was a lie. She stirred beside him, and he tensed, bracing himself for whatever might follow.


    She shifted slightly, her head resting on his shoulder as she let out a shaky breath. For a moment, the only sound was the rustling of leaves outside, the soft hum of the night enveloping them. Theo felt her hand move against his chest, a tentative, gentle pressure.


    “You always look like you’re carrying the world,” she murmured. “Like there’s something constantly pressing down on you.”


    He exhaled, a soft, bitter laugh escaping him. “That obvious, huh?”


    She offered a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think I’m starting to understand... a little. This... everything that’s happened... it makes you feel like you can never really breathe, doesn’t it? Like you’re always waiting for the next blow.”


    He looked away, his gaze settling on a distant point beyond the shadows. “Yeah. Something like that.”


    Silence wrapped around them again, a shared, unspoken understanding settling between their breaths. She nestled closer to him, and for a moment, he let himself believe that perhaps, in some small way, they could find solace in each other’s pain.


    But then her voice broke the quiet, hesitant but laced with curiosity. “Theo, can I ask you something?”


    He turned back to her, his expression softening, though a part of him braced for what might come next. “Anything,” he said, his voice low.


    She met his eyes, her brow furrowed slightly, as if she was trying to untangle the thoughts swirling in her mind. “Do you ever wish... that things had been different? That you could’ve lived a normal life?”


    His heart clenched at the question, a shadow of something old and painful passing through his gaze. “Every day,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a breath. “But wishing for it doesn’t change what I am now.”


    Her fingers brushed against his arm, tracing patterns on his skin. “Do you ever think about what you’d be if... if none of this had happened to you?”


    He swallowed hard, the ache in his chest deepening. “Sometimes. But then I remember... I remember all the things I did. All the people I—” He cut himself off, a darkness flickering behind his eyes. “It’s easier not to think about it.”


    Elena’s expression softened, something like sympathy mingling with the lingering sadness in her gaze. “You’re not the only one who’s made mistakes, Theo.”


    He gave a humorless smile. “Trust me, Elena. Mine are... different.”


    She shifted again, turning her head to look up at him, her eyes searching his face, her voice softer, almost fragile. “Theo... how did you become a vampire?”


    The question landed between them like a dropped stone, sending ripples through the stillness of the night. Theo stiffened, his breath catching as the memories clawed their way to the surface, memories he had spent lifetimes trying to bury. His hand stilled on her back, and he glanced away, as if the darkness beyond the porch might offer him an escape from the question he could no longer avoid.


    She waited, patient and silent, the warmth of her body pressed against his side. He could feel her gaze on him, and it tore at the walls he had built around his past. Finally, he swallowed hard, finding his voice, though it came out rough and uneven.


    “Elena... it’s not a pretty story,” he said, his tone wavering with a mix of reluctance and resignation.


    She reached out, her fingers brushing against his jaw, a touch so gentle it made his chest ache. “I want to know, Theo."


    He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself. When he spoke again, his voice was barely more than a murmur, laden with the weight of old wounds.