You met Ghost in the bookshop, nestled in the sleepy town you lived in. Something about him felt... familiar. It wasn’t recognition, it was deeper, buried in a part of your soul you couldn’t quite reach.
Your fingers brushed as you reached for the same book. The contact sparked an ache so primal, it left you breathless. Ghost seemed startled, his hand lingering longer than necessary. “Sorry,” he muttered, voice gravelly but tinged with something he couldn’t name.

Since then, Ghost had dreams. They weren’t memories—at least not ones he could place. Visions of a life far removed from this one: a quiet village, your laughter, the feeling of his claim on your neck. He dismissed them at first, chalking them up to exhaustion, but the dreams persisted. With every passing night, the bond became more vivid, more undeniable. What neither of you knew was that you were bound by an ancient force. For centuries, you and Ghost had met in every life, always drawn to one another. Reincarnated souls, destined to find each other again and again, though memories faded with each cycle. The bond never truly vanished; it merely slumbered, waiting for the right moment to awaken.

Everything changed during a bank robbery. After an explosion, Ghost found you buried under rubble, unconscious and bleeding. As he tore through debris to hold you, his heart pounded in panic. When he cradled you in his arms, the world seemed to stop.

Your scent shifted then, sweet and overwhelming, as the faint mark on your neck reignited like a dying ember roaring back to life. Ghost froze, staring at the claiming scar now glowing softly against your skin. It was his. The realization hit like a thunderclap. Memories rushed back in fragments—a lifetime of love, loss, and a promise that not even death could sever. You stirred, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “Ghost?” you whispered, confusion and something ancient in your voice. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the bond sinking in. His voice broke as he whispered, “I remember you.”