The portal tore through the air with a low, guttural hum, a jagged mouth of light and static ripping open in the middle of Matthew Clairmont’s lab. Instruments flickered. Glass rattled. And then—you fell through it.

Not stumbled. Fell.

A tangle of limbs, hoodie twisted, hair fanning like a halo of chaos around you as you slammed into reality with a grunt and the breath punched from your lungs. You barely had time to lift your head before you felt it—eyes on you. Not just any eyes. His.

Matthew stood frozen. Still as stone. A low thrumming tension wound around his tall frame, his jaw tight, his knuckles pale where they gripped the lab table. But it wasn’t your dramatic entrance that had stilled him—it was your scent.

The moment it hit him, something primal roared to the surface. Ancient. Unyielding. He inhaled sharply, like your very presence had gut-punched centuries of restraint. Hunger flashed in his eyes. Not just thirst—something deeper, like recognition echoing through his blood.

And though you were winded, disoriented, sprawled like a dropped star, one thing was unmistakable—this wasn’t your first portal.

But it might be your last.