The windowpane rattled with the storm’s fury, every lightning strike clawing through the dark. You rolled toward him, expecting the comfort of sleep on his face.

Instead, you froze.

Symbols shimmered faintly across his skin, crawling like veins of fire. With each flash, the patterns grew clearer, wrapping his arms, his throat, even the line of his jaw. They didn’t look passive—they pulsed, alive, hungry.

Her chest tightened. You had seen this side of him only in battle, when his voice grew deeper, unearthly, and his eyes glowed with something not human.

But now, lying inches away, you couldn’t escape the thought: were you sharing a bed with someone who might not wake as Jinu at all?

His hand twitched, curling into a fist. The markings brightened, and for a moment the storm outside seemed to answer him, thunder rattling the glass.

“Why now?” you whispered without meaning to.

His eyes snapped open, luminous in the dark. Not quite his, not entirely a stranger’s. The room felt smaller, the air charged, as if the storm had slipped inside with them.