The chain between us didn’t break. It didn’t even loosen. It just thrummed, a low, constant vibration beneath my skin, like a second pulse beating in time with Kaelen’s. Every step he took, I had to match. When he turned left down a marble corridor lined with flickering sconces, I followed. When he stopped abruptly, I nearly collided with his back, the heat of him searing through the thin fabric of my uniform.
“Don’t get too close,” he growled without turning.
“You’re the one yanking me around like a damn dog on a leash,” I snapped, yanking back just enough to feel the silver burn at my wrist. It didn’t hurt—not really. It was deeper than pain. A pull. A claim. An echo of something ancient and hungry.
He finally glanced over his shoulder, golden eyes cutting through the dim light. “Then don’t trip. I won’t slow down for you.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I muttered, forcing my legs to move, my spine straight. I wouldn’t let him see me struggle. Not with the chain. Not with the way my body still hummed from his nearness, from the memory of his breath against my ear, from the low growl that had curled low in my belly like smoke.
We moved through the High Court’s labyrinthine halls—past tapestries depicting fae victories, past statues of long-dead nobles with hollow eyes, past silent guards who watched us with wary curiosity. Whispers followed in our wake.
“Is that the Alpha’s new pet?”
“No, look—she’s bound. Like a criminal.”
“But why would he let her near the Archives? She’s not even full-blooded.”
I kept my head high. Let them talk. Let them underestimate me. I’d spent my life being invisible. Being beneath notice. And now? Now I was seen. Bound to the most dangerous man in the supernormal world. And if the rumors started flying, good. Fear was a weapon. And I intended to wield it.
We reached a set of heavy oak doors carved with wolf sigils. Kaelen didn’t knock. He pressed his palm to the wood, and the doors swung inward with a low groan.
Inside was not a cell. Not a dungeon. But a suite—spacious, austere, masculine. Dark wood furniture, fur rugs, a massive stone fireplace with a fire already crackling low. The walls were lined with weapons—daggers, swords, a bow carved from black yew. And in the center of it all, a wide bed with heavy iron posts.
My stomach dropped.
“You’ve got to be f*cking kidding me,” I said, voice sharp.
Kaelen stepped inside, the chain tugging me forward. “Council decree,” he said flatly. “The bond requires proximity. Until we prove we’re not a threat to the peace, we’re to share quarters. Monitor each other.”
“So this is your idea of a cell?” I gestured around. “Gilded, but still a cage.”
“You’d prefer stone walls and rats?” he asked, stripping off his coat and tossing it over a chair. Beneath it, he wore a black fitted shirt that stretched across broad shoulders, the muscles in his arms shifting as he moved. “Be careful what you wish for.”
I crossed my arms. “I don’t need your threats. I need answers. That Contract—it’s not just a document. It’s alive. It wrote a new clause. It bound us. Why?”
He turned, his gaze heavy. “Because it wants something.”
“And what’s that?”
“Truth.”
I snorted. “Truth? The Contract that erased my mother’s name? That enslaved hybrids for a century? That’s not truth. That’s tyranny.”
“And you think I don’t know that?” he said, voice low, dangerous. “You think I signed that thing because I wanted power?”
I froze. “You did. Your signature is on it.”
“I signed it to stop a war,” he said, stepping closer. The firelight caught the gold in his eyes, made them burn. “To protect my pack. To keep the fae from burning our dens to the ground. I made a choice. A bargain. And I’ve lived with it ever since.”
I searched his face—hard, cold, unreadable. But beneath it? Something else. Regret? Guilt? Or was I just projecting?
“You expect me to believe that?” I said. “That you’re some noble martyr? You’re the Alpha. You enforce the laws. You uphold the Contract.”
“Because it’s still the only thing keeping the peace,” he said. “Even if it’s rotten at the core.”
Peace. The word tasted bitter. My mother hadn’t died in peace. She’d died in chains, her magic drained, her name erased. And he stood here, speaking of peace like it was a virtue.
“Then why not break it?” I challenged. “If it’s so corrupt, why not tear it up and start over?”
“Because breaking it could start a war,” he said. “And war means death. My people. Your people. Everyone in between.”
I opened my mouth to argue—and then the chain pulsed.
A wave of heat shot up my arm, straight to my core. My breath caught. My knees weakened. I stumbled, catching myself on the edge of a table.
Kaelen was at my side in an instant. “What?”
“Don’t—” I started, but my voice came out a gasp.
The heat was spreading—low, insistent, coiling in my belly. My skin felt too tight. My heart hammered. And worse—lower—a slow, aching throb between my thighs.
Bond-heat.
I’d read about it. In werewolf packs, when mates were near but denied, their bodies rebelled. Fever. Pain. Hallucinations. And desire—raw, overwhelming, impossible to ignore.
I hadn’t thought it would affect me. I wasn’t a werewolf. I was half-fae, half-witch. But the Contract didn’t care about bloodlines. It had bound us. And now, my body was responding.
“You’re burning up,” Kaelen said, his hand on my arm. His touch—hot, firm—sent another jolt through me. My nipple tightened beneath my uniform. I bit back a moan.
“Get off me,” I managed, shoving at his chest.
He didn’t move. “You’re in bond-heat. It’s a side effect of the proximity clause. Denial fuels it.”
“I’m not denying anything,” I lied, stepping back. “I just don’t want you touching me.”
“Liar,” he said, stepping forward. “Your pulse is racing. Your scent—” He inhaled, eyes flaring gold. “—is driving me insane.”
I could smell it too. My own arousal—sweet, musky, undeniable. And beneath it, his scent—pine, smoke, wild earth. It wrapped around me, thick, intoxicating. My body leaned toward him, traitorous, hungry.
“We need to stabilize the bond,” he said. “There’s a ward on the chain. It can be adjusted. Calmed.”
“Fine,” I snapped. “Do it. Just—don’t touch me more than you have to.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for my wrist, the one bound by the silver chain. His fingers were warm, calloused. He turned my arm, studying the glowing links. Then, with his other hand, he pressed two fingers to the center of the band.
A spark.
Heat flared where his skin met mine—just above my inner wrist. A pulse of magic. And then—
Fire.
Not pain. Pleasure. Sharp, electric. It shot up my arm, straight to my chest. My back arched. A gasp tore from my throat.
And my nipple—hardened instantly beneath the fabric of my dress.
I froze. Humiliation burned my cheeks. I yanked my arm back, but he held firm.
“Don’t,” he said, voice rough. “It’s not done.”
His thumb brushed over the same spot—slow, deliberate. Another wave of heat. Another jolt. My breath came faster. My thighs pressed together, trying to quiet the ache.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” I accused, voice trembling.
“I’m not,” he said, but his jaw was tight. His pupils were dilated. He was affected too. “The ward responds to touch. To intent. If you’re fighting it—”
“I’m not fighting you,” I hissed. “I’m fighting this.” I gestured between us. “This bond. This magic. This—”
Another pulse. Stronger this time. My knees buckled. He caught me, one arm around my waist, pulling me against him.
Our chests pressed together. His heart hammered against mine. His breath was hot on my neck. And then—
Memory.
Not mine.
A chamber. Cold stone. The Contract on a pedestal. Kaelen—younger, but still lethal—standing before it. A fae lord with cruel eyes pressing a dagger to his throat. “Sign,” the lord hissed. “Or your pack dies. One by one. Starting with the pups.”
Kaelen’s hand, trembling, reaching for the quill. The ink black. The signature forged under duress. His face—fierce, broken, furious.
I gasped, jerking back. The vision vanished.
Kaelen stared at me, his expression unreadable. “What did you see?”
My heart pounded. Not from the bond-heat. From the truth.
He hadn’t signed willingly.
He’d been forced.
“You didn’t sign it because you wanted to,” I whispered. “You signed it because they threatened your pack.”
His eyes flashed gold. He said nothing.
“That night,” I pressed. “They held a blade to your throat. You had no choice.”
Still, he didn’t speak. But his grip on my arm tightened. Just for a second. A crack in the armor.
I stepped back, the chain tugging between us. The bond-heat still pulsed, but it was quieter now. Distracted by the truth.
He hadn’t been the monster.
He’d been a prisoner too.
And that changed everything.
“Why didn’t you destroy it after?” I asked. “Once the war was over. Why let it stand?”
“Because it wasn’t just me,” he said, voice low. “The other signatories—Cassian, the vampire elder, the witch matriarch—they all had their reasons to keep it. Power. Control. Fear. And once it was law, breaking it would unravel the entire Council. Millions depend on that balance.”
“Millions?” I said bitterly. “What about the ones it destroys? The hybrids? The women like my mother?”
“I know,” he said. “And I’ve spent every year since trying to weaken it. To protect those it hurts. But I can’t tear it down alone.”
I stared at him. The cold, ruthless Alpha. The man who’d terrified nobles with a glance. And now? Now he stood before me, burdened, trapped, just like me.
But I couldn’t trust him. Not yet. Not completely.
“Then help me,” I said. “Not to weaken it. To destroy it. To expose Cassian. To free the hybrids.”
“And start a war?”
“Better a war than slavery,” I said. “And if you’re so afraid of bloodshed, then find another way. But don’t hide behind ‘peace’ while people suffer.”
He looked at me—really looked at me—for the first time. Not as a threat. Not as a criminal. But as something else.
As an equal.
And then, softly, he said, “You’re not what I expected.”
“Neither are you,” I admitted.
The fire crackled. The chain hummed. The bond-heat still simmered beneath my skin, but it was different now. Not just desire. Not just magic.
Something deeper.
Something dangerous.
Kaelen turned away, moving to the weapons wall. He picked up a dagger, tested the edge with his thumb. “You should rest,” he said. “The bond-heat will come back. Stronger, if we don’t manage it.”
“And how do we manage it?” I asked, wary.
“Proximity. Touch. Controlled exposure. The bond wants connection. Denial makes it volatile.”
“So we just… what? Hold hands and hope for the best?”
“Something like that.” He glanced at me. “Or we could consummate it. That would stabilize the bond permanently.”
My breath caught. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“I’d rather die.”
“Then you’ll suffer,” he said simply. “The heat will get worse. Hallucinations. Pain. You’ll beg for it.”
“I don’t beg,” I said, lifting my chin.
He almost smiled. Almost. “We’ll see.”
I moved to the bed, sitting on the edge. The mattress was firm, the sheets dark gray. I pulled off my boots, then lay back, staring at the ceiling. Kaelen remained by the fire, a silhouette against the flames.
“You’re not sleeping there,” I said.
“I’m not sleeping at all,” he said. “I’ll take the chair.”
“You’ll freeze.”
“I’ll survive.”
Silence stretched. The fire popped. The chain pulsed, warm against my skin.
And then, softly, I said, “You didn’t sign it willingly… did you?”
He didn’t answer.
But in the firelight, I saw his shoulders tense.
And I knew.
The monster wasn’t him.
It was the Contract.
And the man standing in the shadows?
He might be the only one who could help me destroy it.