Hidden Room

Hidden Room

Reyna’s POV

The morning sunlight slipped through the thick curtains, soft and golden, painting faint lines across the dark sheets. I lay still, wrapped in the quiet that followed everything Draven and I had shared last night. My body felt heavy, but not in a bad way. It was a comfortable weight — like floating in warm water, with my skin still tingling from his touch.

Draven wasn’t sleeping. I knew that. He just lay there, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling so slowly it barely moved. I rested my head on his chest, listening. No steady heartbeat, just the soft thrum of something… ancient. Still. A reminder that he wasn’t human — at least not in the way I was.

But in this moment, he felt like mine.

His arm stayed around me, strong and still, and I closed my eyes again. But thoughts kept moving through my mind, refusing to be quiet. I remembered his words from last night.

"Too dark for you," he had said.

What did that really mean? What part of him did he think would scare me away? I wanted to ask more, but he’d shut me down gently. I hated that. Not because he was hiding something, but because he thought I couldn't handle the truth

His words from last night echoed in my mind like a haunting melody I couldn’t forget. “My tastes are… intense.” At first, I’d thought he meant something physical, maybe even dangerous—but the way he said it, with that tightness in his voice and that distant look in his eyes, made me wonder if it was more than just sex. Was he afraid of losing control? Of showing me parts of himself he’d buried deep? He said I’d already seen enough of his darkness, but what if I wasn’t afraid of it? What if I wanted to see it all—to understand every part of him, even the pieces that scared him? Because the truth was… I wasn’t afraid of Draven. I was afraid of not knowing him completely.

I shifted slightly, careful not to wake him. He didn’t move. So I slipped out from under the covers, my bare feet touching the cold floor. I found one of his shirts draped over a chair and pulled it on, the hem brushing my thighs as I walked across the room.

Something tugged at me — a whisper in the back of my mind. Like I needed to find something. Go somewhere. My steps were soft, careful, but my pulse quickened as I walked through the long hallway of his old stone manor. I’d seen most of it already. Or so I thought.

But then, down a side corridor I barely noticed before, I saw it — a door slightly open. Just a crack. The wood was darker than the others, worn at the edges, and something about it felt… different. My fingers brushed the handle.

It was cold.

I pushed it open.

The room inside smelled like dust and old memories. It wasn’t large, but the walls were lined with shelves stacked with books, files, and objects I didn’t recognize. I stepped in slowly, the floor creaking beneath me. There was no light, only a faint glow that filtered through a tall window half-covered with vines.

And then I saw them.

Photos.

Dozens of them.

At first, I didn’t understand what I was looking at. But as I moved closer to the desk where they were laid out, a chill passed through me. My breath caught.

They were of me.

Different times. Different places. Some were old, faded slightly. Others were clear and sharp. Me as a teenager, sitting by the window in my foster home, looking out. Me at sixteen, holding a paintbrush, my hands covered in color. Me in high school, walking down the hall with headphones in, unaware of anyone watching.

And others… ones I’d taken myself. Selfies from my university dorm, blurry pictures of me in cafés, laughing, eating, reading.

How? Why?

My hand trembled as I picked up one. I remembered the exact day — it was raining. I was sitting under the bus shelter, waiting, scrolling through music. I didn’t even notice anyone else around me. But this picture was taken from a distance… perfectly timed.

My chest tightened.

I picked up another. And another. Every photo, every single one, was of me when I thought I was alone. Unseen.

“Reyna.”

I jumped.

His voice was soft, but it made me spin around like I’d been caught doing something forbidden.

Draven stood in the doorway, his face unreadable. The light hit his eyes just enough for me to see the flicker of tension in them.

“You weren’t supposed to find this room,” he said.

I held up one of the photos. My voice cracked. “What is all this?”

He stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. “Memories,” he said. “Pieces of you.”

I blinked at him, heart racing. “You were watching me?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved closer, slowly, like he didn’t want to startle me. “I’ve always watched you,” he said. “Not because I wanted to control you. But because I needed to keep you safe.”

“Safe from what?” I whispered.

“From myself,” he said.

The room fell silent.

Draven walked over and gently took the photo from my hand, his fingers brushing mine. “You were always there, Reyna. Even before we met. I didn’t know why at first. I just… felt drawn. Like part of me knew you.”

My voice was barely a whisper. “So you followed me?”

He looked down, jaw tightening. “Not like that. I never approached you. Never touched a hair on your head. But yes… I’ve been near. Watching. Protecting.”

It should have scared me. Part of me knew that. But it didn’t. Instead, a strange warmth filled my chest. My head was spinning, but deep down… this didn’t feel wrong. It felt like fate.

“But why me?” I asked. “Why did you care so much?”

His eyes met mine — deep, dark, and full of something I couldn’t name.

“Because you’re not just someone I desire,” he said quietly. “You’re someone I was meant to find. Again.”

“Again?”

He didn’t answer that. Not yet.

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