MOON BOUND WITH YOU MY SOULMATE

: Seb

s rivets. Iris pushed me relentlessly, not just with the psychological probing and endless, clinical questions about my childhood, my father's abrupt d

e sharp and steady as she stood right by the open sliding glass d

ermal long-sleeve shirt, sweat plastering my dark hair to my forehead and dr

looming directly beneath my skin. Every single muscle fibre in my body, from my calves to my jaw, felt like it

ision was blurring at the edges, a brilliant, terrifying haze of gold flecks dancing

shivering once, her eyes calm, commanding, and utterly unyielding. "Your body is trying to rewri

ng room?" I snarled, a low, guttural rasp tearing its way up from my chest, vibr

channelling every ounce of your survival instinct into a violent, hyper-aggressive sport just to vent a microscopic fraction of the pressure building inside you. No

my rational thoughts. I let out a sharp, feral growl that startled even me, lunging forward with blind, explosive speed and slamming my bare fi

ac

heavy oak post splintered violently down the center under my

ore I could even curse or pull back in pain, a strange, intense itching sensation flooded my skin. I stared in slack-jawed horror as, right before my eyes, the bruising faded from deep pu

motionless, the silence in the room was deafeni

ss, unbroken skin. She didn't look scared. She didn't look startled. She looked completely vind

. Your cells are metabolizing energy at a rate that would put a racehorse to shame. Now..." She paused, her dark eyes locking

leaving a cold, heavy reality in its wake. There was nowhere left to hide, not

n my knees and burying my face in my hands. "I wasn't running. I was surviving. I built a life that made sense. A life where rules mattered, where hard work

a stool and sat opposite me, leaning forward so our eyes met. "You've spent every waking moment of your adult life skating on a razor's edge, Sebastian. You

into my scalp. "She used to look at me sometimes with this... expression. It wasn't love, exactly. It wasn

rompted, her voice soft, creating a safe harbour

and places where people kept to themselves. She always told me we were running from my father's ghost. But after she died.

n away. I found a pair of second hand skates, joined a local youth league, and poured every

n't," Iris fi

raw frustration burning behind my eyes. "That was the anchor snapping. Without the game to exhaust me,

n my forearm. The warmth of her skin cut through the chill lingering in my veins. "It woke up. Yo

hattered training post across the room. The lingering terror in my ch

asked quietly, the def

ating your nature like an enemy. Tomorrow, we go outside into the woods