Carina’s POV
The first rays of summer light streamed through my window, painting golden patterns on the hardwood floor. Birds chirped outside, their melody weaving with the rustling of leaves in the field. The air smelled fresh, laced with the faint scent of the mango trees swaying in the distance.
I rolled over, pulling my blanket over my head. Summer was here—three months of freedom. No classes, no uniforms, no endless lectures. Most of my classmates were already planning trips to the beach or late-night parties.
But not me.
I had no interest in chasing waves or standing under the disco lights. My world was here, in this room.
With him.
“Morning, Shadow,” I murmured, peeking out from under the blanket.
The corner of my room was bathed in shadows, darker than they should have been despite the sunlight pouring in through the window. He was there. I could feel him, his presence as familiar as my own heartbeat.
“Morning,” his voice came, low and velvety, a sound that sent shivers down my spine.
I sat up, my hair a tangled mess, and stretched. The tension in my muscles eased as I leaned against the headboard, facing the dark corner. “You’ve gotten lazy,” I teased. “Didn’t even try to scare me this morning.”
The shadows shifted, and for a moment, I saw the faintest outline of him—a tall, broad figure, his edges flickering like liquid smoke. He stepped closer, just enough that I could see the glow of his eyes, faint and smoldering like embers.
“Scaring you isn’t as fun anymore,” he said, his tone teasing but laced with something deeper, something that made my pulse quicken.
“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes but smiling. “Because I’m too old for that now?”
“Because you don’t fear me.” His voice dropped, softer now, almost like a caress. “Not the way you did when you were a child.”
I bit my lip, my fingers curling into the sheets. He wasn’t wrong. Fear had long since given way to fascination, to curiosity, and—if I was being honest with myself—to something else entirely.
I glanced at the clock. 9:23 a.m. The day stretched out before me, empty and full of possibilities. But all I wanted was to stay here, in this room, in the company of my shadow.
“What do you want to do today?” I asked, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.
“You tell me.” He stepped closer, and the air grew heavier, charged with his presence.
“Typical,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “Always putting the decisions on me.”
“Isn’t that what you like?” he countered, his voice laced with amusement.
I stood and padded over to the window, throwing it open. Warm air rushed in, carrying with it the hum of cicadas and the faint chatter of neighbors. From here, I could see the field stretching out behind our house, the grass swaying lazily in the breeze.
“Maybe we could go outside,” I suggested, though I knew what his answer would be.
“You know I can’t.”
I turned back to him, the sunlight illuminating the room but stopping short of his corner. “You never even try.”
“I don’t belong out there, Carina.” His voice was firm but not unkind. “This is our space.”
Our space.
I leaned against the windowsill, my eyes drifting to the dark corner where he lingered. His form was more distinct now than it had ever been, tall and solid, his shoulders broad and his posture regal. He didn’t seem bound to the corner anymore; he chose to stay there, just out of reach, like he enjoyed the way I kept looking for him.
“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms. “Then entertain me. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
The shadows shifted again, and he stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the coolness radiating from him. “You know almost everything about me.”
“Not true,” I said, tilting my head. “You’ve always been good at keeping secrets.”
“And yet, you trust me.”
I hesitated, my gaze locked on his glowing eyes. He wasn’t wrong. I did trust him, more than anyone. It was a strange, inexplicable bond—one that had grown stronger over the years.
“Your turn,” he said, his voice like silk. “Tell me something you haven’t told anyone else.”
I hesitated, chewing on my lip. There were things—things I hadn’t even admitted to myself. But his gaze was unrelenting, and the hum in the air felt like a gentle nudge.
“I…” I started, my voice faltering. “I feel like I don’t belong out there. With them.”
“Them?” he prompted, his tone encouraging.
“My friends. My classmates. People.” I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “I always feel like I’m on the outside, like I’m… different.”
“You are,” he said, stepping closer.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding as he closed the distance. I could almost see his face now, though the features remained obscured by shadows.
“But that’s not a bad thing,” he continued, his voice a whisper now. “You’re different because you’re mine.”
My breath hitched, and I took a step back, my knees bumping against the bed. “Yours?”
His glowing eyes locked onto mine, and I felt the weight of his words settle over me. “I’ve been with you since you were a child, Carina. I’ve watched you grow, protected you, been your closest friend. You’ve always been mine.”
The air in the room seemed to shift, growing warmer and heavier. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him, couldn’t think past the steady hum in my chest.
“Say it,” he said, his voice soft but commanding. “Say you’re mine.”
I hesitated, my lips parting as I struggled to find the words. There was a part of me that wanted to run, to escape the intensity of his gaze. But there was a larger part of me—one I didn’t fully understand—that wanted to stay.
“I’m yours,” I whispered finally, the words barely audible.
The hum deepened, resonating through the room like a song, and his form flickered, brighter and more solid than ever.
“Good,” he said, his voice like a warm breeze. “Now, let’s begin our summer.”
And just like that, the tension broke. The shadows retreated slightly, and the glow in his eyes softened. He stepped back into his corner, leaving me standing by the bed, my heart racing and my mind spinning.
This was going to be a summer unlike any other.
****