The drawbridge chains rattled through the dusk as I stood frozen, Jack's hand closing over mine on the letter that would bind us under the blood rite. His broad shoulders blocked the wind, and the scar at his throat seemed to pulse with the same hunger my crescent mark had started to echo.
Every night the ancient scrolls unrolled between us, his commanding voice drawing me nearer until my independence felt like a fragile thing he could shatter with one touch. On the lantern-lit landing his mouth hovered just above mine, and I could no longer pretend the solitude I had guarded so fiercely was enough. The rival schemes to sever what we cannot yet name, but it is my own craving for his dominance that leaves me trembling at the threshold.
