Dominic didn't give him long to recover.
"Stand," he ordered.
Before Damien could fully rise on his own, something shifted in the air—a low thrum, subtle but dense, brushing over his limbs like the static before a storm.
And then—
His body lifted.
Slowly. Smoothly.
Not yanked. Not pushed. Just… raised. As if gravity had decided to ease its grip, as if some invisible hand beneath him had begun to cradle his spine and carry it upward.
Damien's boots left the floor.
His breath caught.
Not from fear—but from the sudden shift in orientation, from the unnatural ease of motion. His muscles weren't doing the work. Something else was.
Dominic didn't move, but his eyes glinted sharply.
"Feel it."
Damien tried. He slowed his breath, narrowed his focus. His core still ached from the pressure earlier, but now that ache buzzed with something else—an echo. A beat.
A pulse.
Dominic's voice cut in, even and controlled.
