We slip out the back of the alley. The adrenaline is still coursing through my veins as I pull Soren along, wanting to get away from the scene as quickly as possible.

After a few blocks of running through dimly lit streets, we find ourselves in a small, secluded park tucked between two old buildings. It's a quiet, hidden spot in the middle of the city—just a few benches, some trees, and a patch of grass. The park is empty, and the faint glow of streetlights gives it an almost ethereal feel.

As we sit on a bench under one of the trees, I finally feel like I can breathe again, the tension slowly draining from my body. Soren's hand is still tightly gripping mine, his eyes scanning the surroundings, but the anger in his expression is slowly giving way to concern.

Soren's eyes flicker with a storm of emotions as he stares at the bruises on my arm. The realization hits me hard as I watch the fury build in his expression, the tension in his body coiling tighter like a spring about to snap.

"They're the ones who did this," he says, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. His eyes narrow as if he's already replaying the fight in his mind, thinking about the guys who dared to lay a hand on me. "I should've broken more than just their pride."

"I think you broke more than just that..." I recall the fight and train off.

"Anyways, it's over. I'm okay. We're okay." My voice is calm, but inside, I'm worried. I've seen people angry before, but this—this is different. There's a primal, almost feral edge to his anger, something that scares me because it feels like it could spiral out of control at any moment.

His gaze remains fixed on the bruises. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, and for a moment, I wonder if he's even hearing me. 

"They shouldn't have touched you," he mutters, more to himself than to me. "They shouldn't have even looked at you."

Kindred bodies are resilient and the men we encountered were not skilled fighters. If they had been experienced, then it would be a different story. This is why top fighters are scouted heavily because it is difficult to deal fatal blows without years of experience. 

"Soren, look at me," I say, trying to get through to him. "I'm okay. They didn't do any serious damage. It's just a few bumps here and there." I try not to think about my ribs, which took the worst beating. 

His eyes finally meet mine, and I see a flash of something else there—fear, maybe, or guilt. But it's quickly swallowed up by the anger that's still boiling just beneath the surface.

 "They're not going to get away with it."

"They already got what they deserved," I insist. "You took care of it, and now it's over."

But even as I say it, I know that it's not enough for him. The protectiveness that draws him to me also fuels his anger, making him a dangerous force when it's provoked. 

For a moment, he hesitates, and I can see the internal struggle written all over his face. Slowly, he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

 "I'm sorry," he says finally, his voice strained. "I just—seeing you hurt, it does something to me. I can't stand it."

He nods, though the anger hasn't fully left his eyes. It's a reminder of how dangerous he can be when pushed, and how strong the bond between us is—strong enough to provoke this kind of reaction.

I study him for a moment, still feeling the tension thrumming beneath his surface. The bruises on my arm are a stark reminder of how quickly things can escalate with him. 

I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. "The way you handled those guys back there... You were incredible, but it was intense. Do you... are you always like this?" I try to keep my tone light, casual even, but I can't shake the undercurrent of wariness in my voice.

 I recall his movements during the fight. He fought very differently from me--no hesitation and no wasted movement. Every strike and block was deliberate and calculated.

I shudder at the memory of the crack as he easily broke one of the guy's arms. 

His eyes flicker to mine, and for a moment, there's something guarded in his expression. He's quiet as if weighing whether to answer me honestly or brush it off. Finally, he sighs, his gaze drifting away from me as if lost in thought.

"I've always had to be strong," he says slowly, his voice low and measured. "I've been through a lot, seen a lot. You learn to fight when you have no other choice. When people you care about are in danger, you don't think—you just act."

There's a heaviness in his words, a glimpse into a past I know nothing about. I bite my lip, trying to process what he's saying.  

"But that... what you did back there," I continue, still cautious. "That wasn't just instinct. You knew exactly how to handle them, how to overpower them without hesitation." I meet his gaze again, this time more pointedly. "How did you learn to fight like that?"

He holds my stare for a long moment, something dark and unreadable flickering in his eyes. "I've had a lot of practice," he says finally, his tone clipped. "Let's just say life hasn't been easy, and I've had to learn how to protect myself—and the people I care about."

His words send a chill down my spine. Hearing him say it out loud confirms what I've suspected all along—he's dangerous in a way that goes beyond just physical strength. There's a history here, one that's shaped him into someone who can flip from calm to lethal in an instant.

It dawns on me that he isn't just good at fighting--he knows how to kill. He has probably killed. He can end someone's life with a single, perfectly placed strike with a calm swift precision.

"Does it scare you?" he asks suddenly, his voice softer now.

I hesitate, my heart pounding. "I don't know," I admit. "I think... I think I'm just trying to understand you better."

He nods, looking almost relieved. "I won't hurt you, Rain. Ever. You have to know that."

I nod. I don't fear him, not in that way. But there's still a part of me that's wary, that recognizes the potential for danger in someone like him.

The silence between us grows, thick with unspoken words. I can't help but wonder just how much of himself he's holding back, how much he's not telling me. And as much as I want to trust him, a small voice in the back of my mind warns me to stay on guard, to be careful around someone with so much hidden beneath the surface.

"I should probably get back," I stand up to leave. 

He almost immediately and instinctively grabs hold of my wrist as if to stop me. 

I glance at the touch of his hand around my wrist--firm but gentle. I narrow my eyes at the motion.

"Let me walk you back. It can be dangerous in the city this late at night."  

"We just met." I raise an eyebrow at him, though I do think I would have high a chance of safety if I had him next to me. His towering figure and deadly aura alone would deter strangers away. 

"Yes..." he pauses to search for his words carefully. "Last time we met you were preoccupied with running away from me." He drops his hands to his side.

"It didn't seem like the right time and place to be making a scene." I scoff at the first time we sensed each other. He was partaking in something shady.

"Was that part of your business?" I doubt he will give me the full answer.

"It is part of it, but not exactly what you think." His vague answer once again leaves much to be desired. 

I let out a deep sigh. "I get that you have your secrets and I have mine. I also don't expect anything just because you are supposed to be my partner. In fact, it may be better for us to just keep each other at a distance." I almost regret the words as soon as I said it. 

I cannot deny there is an intense physical attraction as soon we lock eyes. I feel like myself and even better just being around him. My head certainly feels lighter. 

He immediately stands up with an incredulous look in his eyes. 

I step back instinctively.

He notices the movement and lower his glance. As he calms down, he sighs and shakes his head slowly. 

"I also had strong prejudices against the partners. Damn, I fought against it after we first sensed each other. But there's no denying the bond we share." 

"You can feel how strong our bond is, even though we haven't marked each other. Just look at it." He pulls up his shirt briefly to show his toned abdomen and muscular physique. Then, I quickly focus my eyes on the bright marks glowing around his torso. They almost mirror and complete mine. 

Before I can stop it, my hand touches his warm skin and it feels like a slight jolt of electricity shoots through my hand and down my spine immediately. 

I gasp softly and immediately take my hand away but he stops me once again. His large, calloused hands cover mine as he pulls me closer with his arm around my waist. 

This is getting dangerous.  I gulp as I stare up at him and into his eyes. 

"You are mine as I am yours, whether we accept it or not." His whisper is so low I have to lean just a little to hear it. 

He tilts my chin up and I almost expect him to kiss me on the lips. Instead, he gently presses his lips in the center of my forehead. As he wraps his arms around me in a deep hug, he lets out a complicated sigh. 

I am instantly enveloped by his scent--strong, but refreshing, like crisp pine with a subtle musk. There's a hint of something cool and clean, like the first rain the early mornings, mingling with the warmth of skin. The scent lingers on me, leaving a trace like an imprint. 

I feel the sudden urge rush through me the desire to pull him closer and kiss him deeply. It's not just attraction--it's something far more visceral, a magnetic pull that reaches deeply into my soul. Every instinct screams at me to close the gap between them, to give in to the overwhelming connection that crackles in the air between us.

But I hesitate, caught between the intense longing and reality that I barely know him. My mind battles with my heart. How can I feel so drawn to someone I don't really know?

Before I can think too much about it, Soren makes eye contact and closes the distance between us. My body takes over as I tilt my head up, and before I know it, our lips collide.

It's not gentle--it's deep, intense, and all-consuming. The moment our lips touch, it's like a spark ignites between us and send a rush of heat through my body this time. His lips are firm and warm, tasting faintly of the night, and I fee his hand slide to the small of my back, pulling me closer. 

My mind spins as our kiss deepens and all thoughts melt away. For a moment, everything fades away--there's only him. 

His lips are hot against mine, moving with a deep intensity that leaves me breathless, like he's been waiting for this as long as me. 

I grab the fabric of his shirt to pull him even closer. I feel the solid warmth of his chest against mine. He responds in kind as his grip tightens on my waist. 

There's something primal and powerful as we find ourselves getting loss in each other. I can feel his heartbeat against mine, strong and steady, matching the wild rhythm of my own. 

It didn't seem like just our kiss. It was like an awakening.

I was his, and he was mine.