The first time Brielle sees Kaelen, she’s on her knees in the obsidian throne room of Shadowveil, hands bound in moonsteel chains, her fae-mark burned from her wrist. He looms above her—half-vampire, half-werewolf, eyes like cracked onyx, voice a blade wrapped in velvet. “You are not welcome here, Thorned One,” he says. But when his fingers brush her collarbone, the cursed bond flares: thorned vines of magic coil up their arms, blooming with black roses, sealing them as fated mates under a law o