The morning after should have brought clarity.
Instead, it brought fire.
Not the slow, insidious burn of desire—the kind that had been eating me alive since the Oath bound me to Vex—but something sharper. Hotter. *Angrier*.
I stood before the mirror in the bathing chamber, my reflection pale, my lips still swollen from kisses I couldn’t remember, my neck marked with a bite that pulsed like a second heartbeat. The new one. The permanent one. The one that wasn’t just a claim, but a *brand*.
And still—no memory.
Had we done it? Had I let him inside me, body and soul, while the bond screamed and the heat consumed us? Or had he taken me in the dark, while I was lost to the fever, while I whispered *“Don’t stop”* like a prayer?
It didn’t matter.
Because the truth was written in the way my body still ached. In the way my core clenched at the thought of his hands on me. In the way my blood still sang for him, even now, even when I should be plotting his death.
I pressed my palms to the cool stone of the sink, steadying myself. My breath came too fast. My sigils glowed faintly beneath my skin, pulsing in time with the bond, with my heartbeat, with the heat that refused to fade.
I needed to focus.
Needed to remember why I was here. Needed to feel the fire of my mission again, not the slow, insidious burn of desire.
But every time I closed my eyes, I saw him.
Vex.
Not as the monster I’d sworn to destroy, but as something else. A man with fire in his eyes and pain in his voice. A man who knelt beside me when I burned, who whispered my name like it was sacred, who held me when I broke.
And worse—
I believed him.
Not just about Nyx. Not just about the Crown. But about *me*.
That I wasn’t just a weapon. Not just a mission. That I was a woman. And I *burned* for him.
I clenched my jaw and turned away from the mirror. The room was quiet. Cold. The scent of him—smoke, iron, that dark sweetness—still lingered in the air, twisting in my lungs like a curse. I needed to move. Needed to act. Needed to *do* something before the truth swallowed me whole.
I dressed in fresh robes—crimson, edged in black, the fabric heavy with Fae embroidery—and forced myself to walk. Through the corridors. Past the guards. Past the whispers. Past the knowing looks.
They knew.
They all knew.
The bond. The heat. The way I trembled when he passed. The way my breath hitched when he spoke.
And now, with the bite on my neck, with the rumors spreading, I wasn’t just the new consort.
I was *claimed*.
And that changed everything.
The Grand Hall loomed ahead, its massive doors already open, the Council assembling for the morning session. I hesitated at the threshold, my pulse hammering, my skin still humming with the ghost of his touch.
And then I stepped inside.
The tiered thrones rose like a coliseum, the twelve members of the Supernatural Council watching as I approached the dais. Vex stood at the center, his back straight, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t acknowledge me. Just stood there, a king in his full power, his presence like a storm on the horizon.
And then I saw *her*.
Mira.
She sat in the Fae section, her silver hair coiled like a crown, her pale eyes sharp, calculating. She wore a gown of moonlight silk, her collarbone bare, her neck—
My breath caught.
There, just above her pulse—
A bite mark.
Fresh. Red. *Claimed*.
But not the one from before.
This one was different. Larger. Deeper. A jagged crescent of teeth, still raw, still weeping faint traces of blood. And she was *smiling*.
“Ah,” she said, her voice carrying across the hall. “The *consort* arrives. How… *delightful*.”
The Council murmured.
My stomach dropped.
She hadn’t just worn his robe.
She hadn’t just fed from him.
She’d *been* marked.
Again.
And now she was flaunting it—wearing his mark like a trophy, like proof that she still had what I never could.
“You’re late,” Vex said, his voice low, dangerous. “The session has begun.”
I didn’t answer.
Just stepped forward, my boots echoing on the stone, my gaze locked on Mira. She didn’t flinch. Just tilted her head, letting the light catch the fresh wound, letting everyone see.
“A minor delay,” I said, my voice steady, though my pulse was anything but. “I was… indisposed.”
“Indisposed?” Mira echoed, her smile widening. “Or *claimed*?” She touched the bite, her fingers lingering, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I know how it feels. The way his fangs sink in. The way his groan vibrates through your bones. The way you *come* just from the taste of his blood.”
My breath hitched.
“Careful, Mira,” Vex said, stepping forward, his voice a whip. “You’re treading on thin ice.”
“Am I?” she asked, standing, her gown shimmering like liquid silver. “Or am I just reminding your precious consort of what she’ll never have? A *real* bond. A *real* claiming. Not some political farce sealed with a ceremonial bite.”
The Council erupted.
Whispers. Laughter. Sneers.
And I—
I stood there, frozen.
Not because I was afraid.
But because the bond *flared*.
Heat surged through me, sudden and sharp, my sigils blazing to life beneath my skin, my breath catching in my throat. My thighs pressed together, a moan threatening to escape. The bond wasn’t just reacting to *her*—to her presence, her scent, her *claim* on him.
It was reacting to *me*.
To the jealousy clawing through my chest, to the fury burning in my veins, to the *need* that twisted in my gut like a knife.
“You think you’re better than me?” I asked, stepping forward, my voice low. “You think because he marked you once—*twice*—that you know him? That you own him?”
She laughed—soft, mocking. “I don’t need to own him. I already *had* him. Before you. Before the Oath. Before this pathetic little farce of a marriage.”
“And yet,” I said, stepping closer, “he chose me.”
“Chose?” she echoed. “Or was *forced*?”
“The bond chose me,” I said. “Not him. Not you. *Me*.”
“And what good is a bond,” she said, stepping closer, “if it’s not *wanted*?”
My hands clenched into fists.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Oh, I do,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I know what it’s like to lie in his bed. To feel his mouth on my neck. To hear him say my name in the dark. And I know what it’s like to be *replaced*.”
“You weren’t replaced,” I said. “You were *discarded*.”
Her smile faltered.
And then—
I struck.
Fast. Hard. My hand lashed out, fingers curling around her throat, slamming her back against the nearest pillar. The Council gasped. Vex didn’t move. Just watched, his golden eyes burning.
“You don’t get to talk about him,” I hissed, my voice low, dangerous. “You don’t get to wear his mark like it means something. You don’t get to *touch* what’s mine.”
She laughed—choking, breathless. “Yours? You think he’s *yours*? You’re nothing but a pawn. A tool. A woman bound by magic, not choice. And when the bond fades—”
“It won’t fade,” I said, tightening my grip.
“It will,” she said, her voice breaking. “Because he doesn’t *love* you. He *pities* you. He sees you as weak. As broken. As—”
I didn’t let her finish.
I slammed her head back against the stone.
Once.
Twice.
And then—
The bond *exploded*.
Heat tore through me, white-hot, my sigils blazing crimson, my back arching, a moan ripping from my throat. My core clenched, deep and sharp, my thighs pressing together. The bond wasn’t just reacting to the violence. It was feeding on it. On the jealousy. On the fury. On the *need*.
And then—
Vex was there.
His hands locked around my wrists, pulling me back, his voice a growl in my ear. “Enough.”
I didn’t fight.
Just stood there, trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my skin still burning.
Mira slumped against the pillar, her hand flying to her throat, her eyes wide, her bite mark glistening. “See?” she whispered, her voice broken. “She’s unstable. Violent. She’s not fit to be consort.”
“She’s fit,” Vex said, his voice low, dangerous. “Because she’s *mine*.”
My breath caught.
He turned to me, his golden eyes searching mine, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “You don’t have to prove anything to her. You don’t have to fight for me. I’m already yours.”
Tears burned in my eyes.
And before I could stop myself—
I kissed him.
Not desperate. Not furious. Not hungry.
Soft.
Slow.
*Aching.*
My lips moved over his, gentle, reverent, my hands rising to his face, my body pressing against his. And when he kissed me back—deep, trembling, *real*—I didn’t pull away.
I deepened it.
My tongue tangling with his, my body arching into him, every inch of me screaming for more. He groaned into my mouth, his arms tightening around me, his fangs grazing my lip, his breath hot, his body warm, *alive*.
And then—
Mira’s voice.
“Liar,” she spat. “You say she’s yours, but you won’t even *look* at her when she walks into a room. You say you love her, but you let her suffer in silence. You say she’s your queen, but you still carry my scent on your skin.”
Vex froze.
And I—
I pulled back, my heart pounding.
Because she was right.
He *hadn’t* looked at me when I entered.
He *had* let me suffer in silence.
And now—
Now I could smell it.
Faint, but there.
Her scent.
Light, floral, cloying.
Mixing with his.
Twisting in the air like poison.
My breath caught.
“Is it true?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
Just looked at me—really looked—and for the first time, I saw it.
Fear.
Not of her.
Not of the Council.
Of *me*.
“I didn’t invite her,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t ask her to wear my robe. I didn’t ask her to mark herself. But I didn’t stop her either. Because I was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if I chose you. Afraid of what would happen if I let myself *want* you.”
My breath hitched.
“But I do,” he said, stepping closer, his hand rising to my cheek. “I want you. Not as a consort. Not as a pawn. Not as a duty. But as *mine*. As my equal. As my *reckoning*.”
Tears burned in my eyes.
And before I could stop myself—
I kissed him.
Hard. Deep. *Furious*.
A kiss meant to silence the world.
And he—
He kissed me back.
Because the truth?
It wasn’t just the bond.
It wasn’t just the magic.
It was *me*.
I wanted him.
And if I was going to survive this—
Then I had to stop lying.
To myself.
And to him.
My hands fisted in his coat, yanking him closer, my tongue tangling with his, my body pressing against his, every inch of me screaming for more.
And when he finally pulled back, breathing hard, his eyes still red, his fangs bared, he didn’t let me go.
Just held me there, in front of the Council, in front of Mira, in front of the world—
And growled—
“You’re the only one I’ve marked.”
And I—
I believed him.
Because the truth?
It wasn’t just in the past.
It wasn’t just in the future.
It was in the blood on his lips.
In the mark on my neck.
In the way my heart still *burned*—not for vengeance.
But for *him*.
And as the Council watched, as Mira stormed out, as Nyx’s smile turned sharp, I knew one thing.
I wasn’t just here to kill him.
I was here to *live*.
And maybe—just maybe—I didn’t have to do it alone.
Maybe I could let him in.
Just a little.
Just enough to survive.
And as he pressed his forehead to mine, his breath mingling with mine, I didn’t pull away.
I arched into him.
And I whispered the words I never thought I’d say.
“Don’t stop.”