The first time Cascade sees him, he’s standing in shadow, one hand around a servant’s throat—blood glistening on his fangs, crimson eyes glowing like embers in the dark. She doesn’t flinch. She’s seen worse. She’s done worse. But then he turns, and the air between them snaps, a jolt of primal recognition tearing through her bones. Her pulse races. Her skin burns. And deep in her core, the dormant mark on her spine—a relic of a bond severed before birth—awakens, searing with heat.