The car hummed softly through the city streets — tinted windows muting the world outside.
Sky had meant to take the front seat beside the driver.
Professional distance. Proper protocol.
But Nani had simply opened the rear door and said, "Sit."
No argument. No explanation. Just that quiet authority that didn't leave room for defiance.
Now Sky sat beside him — too close, the leather seats cold against his palm, the faint scent of Nani's cologne threading the air. Subtle, expensive, and somehow… old. Like rain over ancient stone and crushed rose petals.
He tried to focus on the passing skyline, not the faint brush of Nani's sleeve against his.
"You're unusually quiet," Nani said, tone smooth.
"I'm working," Sky replied without looking at him.
"That explains the heartbeat."
Sky's head turned sharply. "Excuse me?"
Nani's gaze didn't move from the window. "It's faster than usual."
Sky clenched his jaw. "Maybe because I'm sitting next to a vampire."
A faint smile curved the corner of Nani's mouth. "You make that sound like a confession."
Sky exhaled slowly, pressing his back into the seat. "You enjoy doing this, don't you?"
"What's that?"
"Getting under people's skin."
Nani finally turned his head — and the amber in his eyes caught the morning light, gleaming like molten metal. "Only when I find someone worth the effort."
Sky's throat went dry. "You're centuries old. That's not much of a compliment."
"It's precisely why it is one."
The car hit a red light. The sudden stillness made every sound louder — the ticking of the signal, the faint hum of the engine, the steady rhythm of their breaths.
Then, Nani's hand moved — not to brush lint, not by chance — but to trace the faint sigil just visible above Sky's collar.
His thumb lingered over it, a ghost of touch that carried centuries of power and something else entirely.
The mark pulsed beneath his skin, responding — as if recognizing its creator.
Sky froze. The sensation hit like a spark down his spine, his breath catching somewhere between shock and heat.
He turned sharply, his hand shooting up to grab Nani's wrist — not to push it away, but to still it.
Their eyes met.
For a heartbeat, the air between them went utterly still — thick with the echo of something older than either dared to name.
"You don't—" Sky's voice broke halfway, rougher than he intended. "You don't get to touch it like that."
Nani didn't pull away. His gaze held steady, a flicker of something human beneath the ageless calm.
"I made it," he said softly. "It answers to me."
Sky's fingers tightened around his wrist. "It's mine."
A pause — the faintest curve of a smile, touched with something that wasn't amusement.
"Then why does it still burn when I touch it?"
The question landed low and dangerous, twisting between them. Sky couldn't look away — couldn't even breathe properly.
The mark glowed faintly, reacting to both of them — gold and crimson intertwined under the low light of the car.
Finally, Sky let go, pushing his hand back to his lap, staring hard out the window.
"You really are impossible," he muttered, his pulse still betraying him.
Nani's gaze softened, though he didn't smile this time. "You've said that before."
"When?"
"Once," Nani said quietly, "a very long time ago."
Sky blinked, caught off guard — something in the way Nani said it made his chest tighten. But before he could ask, the car rolled to a stop outside the marble courtyard of the private hall.
The door opened. William was waiting.
"Ready, my lord," he said.
Nani stepped out first, his expression returning to that mask of calm perfection. Sky followed, still rattled, still trying to forget the echo of that voice in the car.
But as he fell into step behind the Supreme, his wolf stirred restlessly beneath his skin — that faint, instinctive pull toward the vampire's shadow.
And deep down, something ancient whispered again.
You've walked beside him before.
---
The conference room gleamed like a weapon — glass walls, silver fixtures, a panoramic view of the city bleeding light into the room. The air smelled of polished marble, cologne, and too many human heartbeats.
At the head of the table sat Nani Hirunkit — the Supreme Vampire, motionless elegance wrapped in midnight. Even without speaking, his presence dominated the space, every mortal breath drawn a little shorter in his radius.
William stood to the side, half in shadow. His expression was neutral — but his gaze, sharp and knowing, flicked toward the tall figure standing just behind his lord.
Sky Wongravee.
Dressed in a fitted black suit, he looked too raw to belong in this polished world — his energy a restrained storm. Even standing still, he carried that silent readiness, a predator leashed by sheer will. His senses flared constantly: the steady hum of fluorescent lights, the muffled heartbeat of the man two seats down, the faint whisper of steel beneath a guard's jacket.
Every nerve in him was tuned to one thing — protect.
The negotiations began like all others. Polite smiles, hidden daggers. Nani's voice flowed smooth as old wine, each word measured, impossible to defy. The humans across the table nodded, signed, bluffed. They thought they understood power.
Then one of them — a syndicate heir with slicked hair and too much confidence — leaned forward.
His words were oily, but the threat beneath them was sharp.
"With all due respect, Mr. Hirunkit… some of us are tired of playing by your kind's rules."
A soft scrape of a chair. A single heartbeat skipped.
Sky didn't think — he moved.
In less than a breath, he stepped forward, body between Nani and the human, the air crackling with suppressed violence. His voice came out low, dangerous, carrying the weight of something primal.
"Watch your words."
The human froze. The others stiffened. Even the hum of the city beyond the windows seemed to hold its breath.
Sky's posture wasn't loud, but it screamed of danger — protective, territorial, his wolf barely restrained.
William's lips twitched, the faintest smile ghosting there. He'd seen Nani tear down ancient kings with a glance, but no one had ever seen anyone step in front of him like that — not since the old wars.
And what stunned William more wasn't Sky's audacity — but that Nani let him.
For a moment, the Supreme Vampire simply watched his wolf — head tilted, golden eyes reflecting the silver of the room. The corner of his mouth curved.
A spark — not anger, not amusement. Possession.
"Sky."
Just his name, spoken like command and endearment intertwined.
The sound slipped through the tension like a blade. Sky's breath caught, his instincts battling obedience. Slowly, he stepped back, though the heat of defiance still coiled in his gaze.
Nani rose from his chair, movement too graceful to be human. He came to stand beside Sky, the faint scent of metal and cold roses bleeding into the air. His hand brushed Sky's shoulder — a light touch, yet deliberate.
To the humans, it looked like restraint.
To William, it looked like claiming.
Nani turned to the man who had spoken. His voice was velvet wrapped around a dagger.
"Do you know," he said softly, "what happens to those who forget the order of things?"
The lights flickered. Shadows stretched. The man's pulse thundered, fear spilling into the air like spilled wine.
Nani smiled — faint, predatory.
"They become reminders."
Silence. Utter, consuming silence.
When it was over, the humans could barely sign their papers with steady hands. Nani dismissed them with a word, and as the door closed behind them, William exhaled a quiet breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
He glanced at Sky — the wolf still rigid, heart pounding too fast, his fingers curled like he'd forgotten to relax them.
And Nani… Nani was smiling faintly.
William had seen his lord furious, merciless, cold — but this expression was new. A softness that didn't belong in a creature centuries old.
As they left the room, William murmured low enough for only Nani to hear.
"You seem to enjoy testing him."
Nani's gaze didn't leave Sky's back. His tone was quiet, dangerous.
"He's not the one being tested."
And William, seasoned by a hundred years of his master's moods, realized something terrifying —
it wasn't just that the Guardian was falling into the orbit of the Supreme.
It was that the Supreme was starting to burn for him too.
----
The city outside Nani's penthouse shimmered with gold and dusk, its skyline bruised with the last light of day. The windows stretched from floor to ceiling, catching the reflection of two silhouettes — one still as night, one restless as wind.
Sky stood by the elevator, fingers brushing the call button but not pressing it. His heart beat unevenly, too aware of the weight of the man behind him.
"You've done enough for today," Nani said softly.
"You should rest."
Sky exhaled, sharp through his nose. "Rest doesn't come easy anymore."
He turned slightly — and that was his mistake.
Nani was close. Too close.
The soft glow from the city lights cast over him like moonlight through glass — cold, ethereal, heartbreakingly beautiful. His tie was undone, his shirt open at the collar, and the faint scent of blood and roses lingered around him.
"Stay," Nani murmured. Not a command this time — a whisper that threaded through Sky's pulse like silk.
Sky hesitated. Every instinct screamed don't. Every cell in his body said can't.
But he stayed.
Nani's steps were unhurried as he approached, the air thickening between them. He reached up, his fingers brushing the hem of Sky's shirt — the place where fabric met skin.
"Your mark," Nani said quietly. "It's reacting again."
Sky blinked, glancing down. The faint sigil over his chest shimmered through the open collar — silver light veined with crimson, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"It does that sometimes," Sky muttered. "When I'm around you."
Nani's lips curved faintly. "Then we're both cursed."
His hand hovered — not quite touching, but close enough that Sky could feel the chill radiating from his palm. When his fingers finally brushed the mark, the reaction was instant.
Sky gasped.
The glow flared, bright and wild, the air between them humming with energy. His knees nearly buckled under the surge of power.
Nani inhaled sharply — a sound between pain and wonder. The veins along his throat glowed faintly gold, his control slipping for a fraction of a second.
"Your blood…" he breathed. "It burns me."
Sky gritted his teeth. "Then stop touching me."
"I can't."
The confession was quiet, raw. His thumb traced the glowing edge of the mark, trembling despite centuries of practiced stillness.
"Do you know what this means, wolf?"
"That you should stay the hell away from me."
"It means," Nani said, voice low enough to vibrate in Sky's bones, "that you could end me — and I would still reach for you."
Their eyes met — amber and gold against silver-blue — and the room seemed to fall away.
The mark between them flared brighter, responding not to magic, but something older. Recognition. Soulbound energy older than any curse.
Sky's breath hitched. He wanted to step back, but his body betrayed him — leaning in, drawn to the pull between them like tide to moonlight.
Nani's hand slid to the side of his neck, fingers splayed, pulse under his palm.
The touch was reverent. Possessive.
"You are fire," Nani whispered. "And I am ash waiting to be claimed."
Sky's heart stuttered. "If I burn you, it's your fault for standing too close."
"Then burn me," Nani said — not as challenge, but prayer.
For a heartbeat, they stood there — silence heavy with centuries of something neither could name.
Then the mark dimmed, the light fading to a faint shimmer beneath Sky's skin. The energy between them cooled, leaving only breath, closeness, and the ache of something inevitable.
Nani let his hand fall, but his gaze lingered — softer now, weighted with a melancholy that didn't belong to this lifetime.
"Go," he said finally. "Before I forget why I shouldn't keep you."
Sky turned, exhaling hard. He didn't look back, but his pulse still echoed in his chest, tangled with Nani's.
As the elevator doors closed, Nani whispered — barely audible:
"Niran…"
And beneath his shirt, the same mark that glowed on Sky's chest flickered faintly against his heart — the sigil of a bond reborn, not yet realized, but never broken.