The bond between us

My name is Aria Vale.

If you passed me on the street, you wouldn’t look twice. I’ve perfected that—being forgettable. Average height, average build, the kind of face that blends into a crowd. My hair is a deep chestnut brown, usually tied back in a low ponytail that says I have my life together, even when I don’t. My eyes… well, those I can’t hide as easily. They’re a strange shade—golden, almost amber when the light hits them just right. People always notice that. I always lie and say it’s contacts.

It’s not.

It’s never been.

I was nine years old when I realized I wasn’t like everyone else. I didn’t grow up with bedtime stories or family dinners or someone tucking me in at night. I grew up in a small, worn-down orphanage at the edge of San Aurelio, a quiet human town nestled between dense forests and the kind of mountains that swallow secrets whole.

They found me in those woods.

Alone. Bloody. Unconscious.

No parents. No history. No explanation.

Just me.

And whatever I am.

The orphanage caretaker, Mrs. Delgado, used to watch me with a careful kind of kindness—like she knew there was something wrong but didn’t know what. She’d always leave my window open at night, even in winter, like she understood without asking that I needed the air… the scent of trees… the pull of something wild I couldn’t explain.

I never told anyone about the nights I woke up with my bones aching.

Or the way my senses sharpened under the full moon.

Or how I once clawed through my mattress in my sleep.

I learned early on: hide it.

Hide everything.

Because whatever I was… I was alone.

Or at least, that’s what I believed.

San Aurelio smells like rain and dust.

It’s the kind of town where mornings begin slowly—coffee brewing in corner cafés, the hum of old trucks, distant laughter echoing through narrow streets lined with faded buildings. But beneath that… there’s something else.

Something older.

Something that calls to the part of me I’ve spent years trying to bury.

I feel it strongest near the edge of town—where the forest begins. Where the trees grow thick and the shadows stretch too far. I’ve never gone too deep. Something inside me warns me not to.

Or maybe it’s fear.

Either way, I stay away.

I’ve built a life here. A simple one.

Predictable.

Safe.

I rent a small apartment above a bakery owned by Luis Herrera, a kind older man who smells permanently of sugar and cinnamon. He always greets me with a warm smile and a free pastry I pretend not to expect.

“Morning, niña,” he says every day, his voice rich with familiarity.

“Morning, Luis,” I reply, taking the paper bag he hands me, the warmth seeping into my cold fingers.

Today smells like fresh bread and something sweeter—vanilla, maybe. My stomach tightens in response, sharper than it should be. Hunger has always been… different for me. Stronger. Deeper.

I force a smile, thank him, and step out into the street.

Today matters.

Today is the day everything changes.

The building towers over the rest of San Aurelio like it doesn’t belong here.

Glass. Steel. Power.

Valtieri Imports.

Even saying the name feels expensive.

The company is worth billions—global trade, rare goods, connections that stretch across continents. No one knows exactly how it started or how it grew so fast. In a town like this, people whisper about things like that.

I don’t.

I’ve learned not to ask questions I don’t want answers to.

All I know is… I got the job.

Personal assistant to the CEO.

Which still feels like a mistake.

I smooth down my black pencil skirt and adjust my blouse as I step through the revolving glass doors. The air inside is cool, sterile—too clean. It smells like polished floors and quiet ambition.

Nothing like the forest.

Nothing like me.

A woman at the front desk looks up, her sleek dark hair falling perfectly over her shoulder. Her eyes scan me quickly—measuring, assessing.

“Name?” she asks.

“Aria Vale. I’m starting today.”

Her expression shifts, just slightly.

Recognition.

Respect.

“Of course. Mr. Valtieri is expecting you.”

My chest tightens.

Mr. Valtieri.

Adrian Valtieri.

I’ve seen photos. Everyone has. He’s the kind of man magazines obsess over—dark hair, sharp features, a presence that seems to burn even through a screen.

But photos don’t make my pulse race like this.

This is something else.

Something instinctive.

Something… wrong.

“Top floor,” she says, gesturing toward the elevators.

I nod, murmuring thanks, and step inside.

The doors slide shut.

And suddenly, the air feels… heavier.

My heart begins to pound.

Too fast.

Too loud.

Like something inside me is waking up.

I press a hand against my chest, trying to steady myself.

Get it together, Aria. It’s just a job.

But the closer the elevator climbs… the stronger it gets.

That pull.

That strange, electric tension coiling under my skin.

Like I’m being drawn toward something.

Or someone.

The doors open with a soft chime.

The top floor is quiet.

Too quiet.

Thick carpets swallow my footsteps as I walk down the hallway, my senses stretching in ways I don’t understand. Every sound feels sharper. Every scent more vivid.

And then—

I smell him.

It hits me like a storm.

Dark. Warm. Wild.

Like rain on dry earth… like cedarwood and something dangerously male beneath it.

My breath catches.

My entire body goes still.

What is that?

What is happening to me?

The door at the end of the hall stands slightly ajar.

I don’t remember deciding to move.

But suddenly, I’m there.

My hand lifts.

And I push it open.

He’s standing by the window.

Tall.

Broad shoulders framed by a perfectly tailored black suit. The city stretches behind him, but somehow… he outshines it.

He turns.

And the world… stops.

Dark hair, slightly tousled like he’s run his fingers through it one too many times. Eyes so deep they look almost black—but as they lock onto mine, something shifts.

Gold flickers beneath the surface.

Recognition.

Shock.

Hunger.

The air crackles between us.

My lungs forget how to work.

And then—

He inhales.

Sharp. Intent.

Like he’s memorizing my scent.

A low, almost inaudible sound rumbles from his chest.

Not human.

Not entirely.

My heart slams violently against my ribs.

His gaze darkens, intensifies, burns.

“Who…” his voice is rough, controlled—but barely, “are you?”

I should answer.

I should say my name.

I should walk away.

But I can’t move.

Because something inside me—something wild and ancient—has already recognized him.

Even if I haven’t.

I swallow hard, forcing the words out.

“Aria Vale… Sir. Your new assistant.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Electric.

And then…

The corner of his mouth lifts.

Not a polite smile.

Something far more dangerous.

“Sir?” he repeats softly, stepping closer.

Every instinct in me screams.

Run.

But my feet stay rooted to the ground.

He stops just inches away.

Too close.

Close enough that I can feel the heat of him.

Close enough that my entire body hums in response.

His gaze drops—just for a second—to my lips.

Then back to my eyes.

And when he speaks again…

His voice is quieter.

Deeper.

Possessive in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.

“You can call me Adrian.”

My breath catches.

Something shifts inside my chest.

A thread.

Invisible.

Unbreakable.

Terrifying.

And in that moment…

Without understanding why…

I know one thing with absolute certainty.

My life…

Will never be the same again.