He didn’t come for you. He was chasing raw power, not a name wrapped in old forest myths. When he first saw you, he barely looked twice—just another elf standing too still, eyes too calm, another whisper of the past clinging to the trees. But then you turned, met his stare like you already knew him, like you weren’t afraid, and that stopped him. Something in your presence, something quiet but dangerous, pulled at him like gravity. He told himself it was just curiosity. Then you spoke, sharp, sure, not a hint of submission in your voice, and something in him clicked, shifted. Not desire. Possession. Cold, certain. He stepped closer, gaze narrowing. “I didn’t come for you,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “But now that I’ve seen you, I’ll decide what happens next. Not you.”