Chapter 4 HIDE

Evi's Pov

The first thing I noticed was the smell. Cedar and rain, dark and clean, clinging to the pillows beneath my head. The second thing I noticed was the weight of his gaze on my skin before I even opened my eyes.

I was in Damian's bed.

Panic shot through me like a live wire. I sat up too fast, my head spinning, and immediately regretted it. Everything hurt. My muscles ached like I'd run a marathon, and there was a deep, hollow ache in my chest where my magic used to sit, except it wasn't gone. It was different and quieter, like a caged animal that had finally stopped thrashing.

"You're awake."

Damian's voice came from across the room. I turned to find him sitting in a leather armchair, watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch. He was still in his clothes from last night, a black t-shirt and sweatpants but his hair was mussed, and there were shadows under his eyes. He hadn't slept.

I looked down at myself. I was in a different shirt. One of his. It hung off my shoulder, soft and warm.

"How did I.."

"The ritual," he cut me off, his voice flat. "You passed out. I carried you here. Your clothes were burned."

My cheeks flushed. I pulled the collar of his shirt up, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt. "You undressed me?"

"I didn't look." His jaw tightened. "I'm not a monster, Evi. Despite what you think."

I opened my mouth to snap back, but the words died in my throat. Because through the strange new connection pulsing in my chest, I could feel his exhaustion and anger, not at me, but at himself. At the situation and whatever had just happened between us.

"What did you do to me?" I whispered.

He stood up, crossing the room in three long strides. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that I could see the faint stubble on his jaw. Up close, the bags under his eyes were worse. He looked like he'd been through a war.

"I didn't do anything," he said. "You did this to yourself. The ritual ruptured. Your magic was killing you. I had to stabilize it." He paused, his eyes searching mine. "I forced my life force into yours. Our souls are tangled now, we’re bound."

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline. It didn't come.

"Bound how?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted.

"It's called a soul bond, rare and dangerous." He leaned back, running a hand through his dark hair. "If one of us dies, the other does too. If we're separated for too long, we go insane. And if my father finds out, he'll kill us both."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I pressed my palms against the mattress, trying to steady myself. "Why would your father kill us? He's the one who married my mother. We're supposed to be family."

Damian laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You don't know him. You don't know what he is." He stood up abruptly, pacing to the window. "Richard Hawkins isn't just some wealthy businessman, Evi. He's the Alpha King. He's been hunting witches for decades. The anti-witch laws? He wrote most of them."

My blood ran cold. "He's a werewolf?"

"Alpha. Purebred. And he's been trying to breed an heir strong enough to continue his legacy." Damian turned back to face me, his expression grim. "I'm supposed to be that heir. But he doesn't trust me. He's had me watched my entire life. And now you're here, a witch, bonded to me. If he finds out."

"He'll kill us," I finished. "Or have us killed."

"Probably both."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way my body screamed in protest. I needed to move, to think. Being trapped in Damian's bed, surrounded by his scent, his warmth, was making it impossible to focus.

Damian grabbed my wrist before I could stand. The touch sent a jolt through both of us, i saw it in his eyes, the way his pupils dilated. He dropped my hand like I'd burned him.

"Stay," he said. "There's more you need to know."

"What more could there possibly be?" My voice cracked. "My magic is still inside me. The ritual failed. I'm still a witch. And now I'm…" I gestured between us, "whatever this is with you."

"You're not going to die from the magic anymore," he said quietly. "That's what I did. I stabilized it. The fire won't consume you. But you need to learn to control it. If you lose control again, it will kill you anyway."

I sank back onto the bed, suddenly exhausted. "So what now?"

Damian sat down again, closer this time. His knee brushed mine, and neither of us pulled away. "We pretend," he said. "At school, in public, in front of my father. We act like we hate each other. We keep our distance and we find a way to break the bond."

I nodded, even though the thought of breaking the bond made my chest ache. "How do we break it?"

"I don't know." He looked away. "I've never heard of a bond like this being broken. But I'll find a way. I didn't ask for this, Evi. I don't want to be tied to you."

His words stung more than they should have. "Good," I said, my voice cold. "Because I don't want to be tied to you either."

Something flickered in his eyes, hurt, maybe, or regret but he masked it quickly. "We agreed then. In public, we're strangers. In private, we research. And we stay the hell away from each other."

"Fine."

We sat in silence for a long moment. The bond hummed between us, electric and unsettling. I could feel his heartbeat in my own chest, the steady rhythm of his breath matching mine. It was intimate in a way I'd never experienced, and I hated how much I didn't hate it.

A knock on the door shattered the moment.

Damian was on his feet instantly, his body going rigid. "Hide," he hissed, grabbing my arm and shoving me toward the closet. "Now."

I stumbled into the dark space, pressing myself against the wall. Through the crack in the door, I saw Damian smooth his shirt, run his hand through his hair, and school his features into careful boredom.

The door swung open.