Beneath of His Shadow

Ivy stood frozen by the window, her breath catching in her throat as she stared down at Lorne. His presence was undeniable, magnetic even from a distance. He was watching her, but not with the intent of a mere observer. It was more intimate than that—more intrusive. It was as if he wasn’t just looking at her, but into her, peeling away every layer she had carefully built to protect herself.

The morning sun bathed the street in light, but the air around Lorne seemed untouched by it, like the shadows bent to his will, cocooning him in darkness. Ivy’s hand trembled as she clutched the curtain, torn between the urge to close it and the strange, inexplicable need to keep looking at him.

Why was she drawn to him like this? Why did every rational thought dissolve the moment his eyes met hers?

With a shaking breath, Ivy tore her gaze away from the window, trying to pull herself together. But the second she stepped away, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. For a fleeting moment, she thought it was Dorian again, checking in on her like he always did, but something in her gut told her otherwise.

She picked it up, her stomach twisting as she saw the name flash across the screen.

Lorne.

Ivy’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t given him her number. How could he have her number?

Her hand hovered over the screen, her mind screaming at her to ignore it, to block the call, to do anything but answer. Yet, her thumb moved on its own accord, and before she knew it, the phone was pressed to her ear, the line connecting with a soft click.

“Hello?”

“Ivy.” His voice slithered through the phone, dark and smooth like velvet, wrapping around her senses, making it hard to think straight. “I see you.”

Her grip tightened on the phone, her knuckles turning white. She glanced toward the window again, but Lorne was gone. The spot where he had been standing just moments ago was now empty, as if he had never been there at all. But she knew better. He was still close.

“How did you get my number?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

There was a pause on the other end, and she could almost hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again. “There’s nothing about you I can’t find, Ivy. You’re a part of me now. You should stop pretending otherwise.”

Her chest tightened, panic flickering just beneath the surface. This wasn’t just attraction, wasn’t just some strange connection she couldn’t explain. It was possession. Lorne wasn’t interested in merely being a part of her life—he wanted to own her.

“I’m not yours,” she hissed, her voice hardening with the defiance she wished she actually felt. “You don’t control me.”

His laugh was soft, almost amused, but it sent a shiver down her spine. “You say that, but we both know it’s not true. You can feel it, Ivy. Every time you close your eyes, every time you try to push me away—you can feel how deep the connection runs. You’re fighting something that’s already won.”

Ivy swallowed hard, her throat dry. He was right, and she hated it. She hated that she did feel the connection, that it had burrowed so deep into her that no amount of denial could root it out. It scared her more than anything—this invisible bond between them that had no name but weighed heavier than chains.

“Stay away from me,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Another long pause, the silence stretching until it became unbearable. Then, his voice softened, his tone shifting from predatory to almost tender. “Ivy, I’m not your enemy. You’ll understand soon. You belong to me, yes—but that doesn’t mean I want to hurt you. I’ll protect you from what’s coming.”

Her heart hammered in her chest. “What do you mean, ‘what’s coming’?”

But there was no answer. The line went dead, and the silence on the other end was deafening.

Ivy stood there, her mind racing, trying to piece together what Lorne had just said. Protect her? From what? And why did he speak as if the danger was inevitable, as if there was something far worse lurking just out of sight?

She sat down on the edge of her bed, her hands shaking as she dropped her phone onto the comforter. She couldn’t keep living like this—caught between fear and desire, between the known and the unknown. Lorne had woven himself into her life, and no matter how much she resisted, he was always one step ahead, pulling her deeper into his web.

But the worst part—the part that terrified her the most—was that some small, twisted part of her wanted to follow.

A sharp knock on her apartment door shattered the silence, jolting Ivy from her thoughts. Her heart leaped into her throat as she stood up, staring at the door, her breath catching.

Could it be Lorne?

No. He wouldn’t knock. He’d never needed an invitation before.

“Ivy? It’s me.”

Dorian’s voice floated through the door, warm and familiar, grounding her in a way she desperately needed. Relief flooded through her, but it was quickly followed by guilt. She had promised Dorian she wouldn’t shut him out, and yet here she was, caught up in something dark, something dangerous, without telling him a word.

She walked to the door, hesitating for a moment before unlocking it and pulling it open.

Dorian stood there, concern etched into every line of his face. His eyes searched hers, and without a word, he stepped inside, pulling her into a tight hug.

“I’ve been worried sick,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her hair. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

Ivy closed her eyes, sinking into his embrace, wishing she could stay in this moment—safe, wrapped in the warmth of someone who didn’t make her feel like she was on the edge of a cliff.

But even in Dorian’s arms, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Lorne was watching. Waiting.

And she had no idea how to escape him.

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