Bound by Love Marked by fire

Amelia Rivers had always hated her birthday.

It wasn't the attention though she could live without the suffocating smiles and endless small talk. It wasn't the expensive gifts wrapped in ribbons the size of her head, or the over-the-top dinners her adopted father insisted on throwing. No, it was something else.

It was the curse.

Or at least, that's what she called it. Every year, something went wrong. Tires mysteriously burst on the way to the venue. Light bulbs popped above her head like gunfire. One year, the bakery meant to deliver her cake went up in flames literally. She'd learned to smile through it, to tell herself it was all coincidence.

Until the night she turned twenty-one.

"Miss Amelia, the driver is waiting!" her father's assistant called up the grand staircase, her voice echoing through the marble halls.

Amelia let out a breath, smoothing her hands over the silk of her gown a slinky, crimson thing she hadn't chosen for herself. The deep neckline felt like a spotlight she didn't ask for, and the slit along her thigh whispered scandal with every step. Her father loved dramatic entrances, even if it wasn't his name on the invitation.

For him, tonight was more than a birthday celebration. It was a move in his endless political chess game-a gala for the city's elite. Politicians with slippery smiles. Business moguls with hands too heavy on your back. Influencers whose laughter rang like glass breaking. And Amelia, standing in the middle of it all, smiling like she belonged.

Except she didn't. She never had.

The ballroom was a swirl of gold and champagne light when she arrived. Crystal chandeliers dripped overhead. Cameras flashed. Conversations hummed like the static before a storm. Her father stood across the room, surrounded by people who laughed at things that weren't funny.

But somewhere deep inside, a weight sat in her chest. Tonight didn't feel like coincidence. It felt like warning.

The hours crawled by in polite conversation and empty compliments. Then, as the grandfather clock in the foyer struck midnight, it happened.

First, a strange tingling bloomed in her palms-like pins and needles after your foot falls asleep. She shook her hands, trying to brush it off. But the feeling intensified, racing up her arms until it reached her shoulder.

Then came the burn.

It was sharp, searing, alive.

Gasping, Amelia staggered away from the dance floor, weaving through clusters of guests, her breath shallow. She pushed open the glass doors to the garden, gulping the cool night air. The moon hung full and heavy in the sky, its light silvering the roses and marble fountains.

Her hand flew to her shoulder, clutching the spot where something blazed beneath her skin. When she pulled the fabric of her dress aside, her breath caught.

A mark glowed there-a perfect circle lined with strange, swirling patterns, like fire etched into her flesh. It pulsed faintly, matching the frantic beat of her heart.

"What the hell-?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

She didn't get to finish.

A growl split the night.

It wasn't the sound of a dog, or anything human. It was deeper. Older. It rumbled through the air, vibrating against her bones.

From the shadows beyond the rose bushes, a figure stepped forward. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in black that seemed to drink the moonlight. His silver eyes caught hers, gleaming like twin blades.

He moved with the kind of dangerous grace you only saw in predators-and men who knew exactly how much power they held.

"You're not supposed to be here yet," he growled. His voice was low, rough, like gravel dragged across stone. "You're early."

Amelia's pulse spiked. "What... what are you talking about?" she managed, backing away.

He took one slow step toward her. His eyes flicked to her shoulder. His jaw tightened.

"You don't know," he whispered, almost to himself.

The air shifted. A second growl, sharper this time, came from behind her.

Amelia froze.

She turned just in time to see something monstrous break from the darkness. Its body was lean and twisted, all muscle and shadow, claws catching the moonlight. Its eyes-oh God-its eyes were red and burning with hunger.

She stumbled backward, every instinct screaming to run, but her heels caught in the grass.

Before the creature reached her, the silver-eyed man was there. One moment he stood still, the next he was in the air, colliding with the beast mid-leap. The impact sent them both crashing into the shadows, their snarls and growls blending into something almost inhuman.

The fight was chaos-limbs and claws and flashes of silver under the moon. She couldn't tell who was winning. She couldn't tell if she should stay or run.

Her body trembled, frozen in place, as the truth slammed into her like a second heartbeat.

The world she thought she knew had just cracked open. And she was standing on the fault line.