I felt him again.

That quiet presence.
He didn’t speak, didn’t approach — just watched me. Always from a distance. Always pretending to blend in.

But I could hear his breath before he exhaled.
I could sense the weight of his gaze on the back of my neck.
Human eyes don’t carry that kind of heat.

So tonight... I let him follow me.

I didn’t rush. I didn’t look back. I simply walked — across the courtyard, through the marble corridor, and into the private wing of the resort. My door opened with a whisper. I stepped inside and left it slightly ajar.

He entered.
No hesitation.

I turned slowly, arms crossed, chin lifted.

“Why do you follow a goddess?”

He looked at me. No fear. No lust. Just... something old. Something buried.

“Because you called me without knowing.”

His voice was deeper now. Thicker.
And then — it began.

His skin rippled, muscles swelling beneath his clothes. His spine cracked, shoulders broadening, jaw stretching. His skin turned deep green, and his eyes — gods, those eyes — burned with something ancient and primal.

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

Not because I was afraid... but because I was in awe.

He wasn’t a man. Not anymore.

“What are you?” I asked, my voice barely above a breath.

He looked down at me, taller now, trembling slightly with the effort of holding himself back.

“Yours,” he said.

And I — I didn’t correct him.

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