The silence after Mira left was heavier than the chain around my wrist. It pressed against my skin like a second pulse, warm and insistent, humming with something I refused to name. Kaelen stood motionless, his back to me, golden eyes fixed on the door she’d slammed behind her. The fire had died to embers, casting long shadows across the suite—over the weapons on the wall, the unmade bed, the space between us where the air still crackled with everything we hadn’t said.
I should’ve been furious. Humiliated. Ready to tear someone apart.
Instead, I felt… exposed.
Because Kaelen had touched me. Not just the ritual. Before that. His hand on my back, his breath in my ear, the way his thumb had stroked the nape of my neck like he had every right. And worse—my body had responded. Not the bond-heat, not magic, not some supernatural trick. Me. Blair. The woman who hadn’t let anyone close in over a decade. The woman who’d sworn love was a weakness, desire a distraction, and trust a death sentence.
And yet, when he pulled me close, I hadn’t fought.
I’d leaned in.
“You should rest,” Kaelen said suddenly, voice rough, still not turning. “The ritual’s tonight. You’ll need your strength.”
“I’m not tired,” I lied.
“You’re trembling.”
I glanced down. My hands were steady now, but my pulse still hammered beneath my skin. Not from fear. From something darker. Something that had nothing to do with the bond and everything to do with the man standing three feet away, whose presence felt like a storm I couldn’t outrun.
“I don’t need rest,” I said. “I need answers.”
He turned then, slow, deliberate. The firelight caught the sharp angles of his face, the gold in his eyes. “What kind?”
“The kind that don’t come from Council lies or fae propaganda. The kind that’s written in blood.” I stepped forward, the chain tightening between us. “The Archives. There’s more there. I felt it last night, when the ward flared. A pull. A resonance. Like the Contract wasn’t just reacting to me—it was recognizing me.”
His jaw tightened. “You’re not going back there. Not alone.”
“Then come with me.”
“I can’t. The Council’s watching. If we’re seen together outside of official duties—”
“Then don’t be seen,” I snapped. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you? You move like a shadow. Blend in. Hunt in silence. Or is that all just posturing for the Court?”
His eyes flashed. “Don’t test me, Blair.”
“Or what?” I challenged, stepping closer. “You’ll lock me up? You already said that. And I already told you—I’ll burn the cell down.”
He exhaled sharply, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Fine. But we go on my terms. My timing. And if I say turn back, you turn back. No arguments. No spells. No heroics.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll carry you out,” he said, voice flat. “And you’ll spend the next twenty-four hours in that bed, bound and helpless, while the bond-heat tears through you.”
My breath caught. Not from the threat. From the image it conjured—me pinned beneath him, helpless, burning, his hands on my skin, his mouth at my neck—
I shoved the thought away. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
I glared at him. But beneath the anger, something else stirred. A flicker of trust? No. Not trust. Reliance. And that was almost worse.
“Fine,” I said. “Your way. But we go tonight. After the ritual.”
He studied me for a long moment. Then nodded. “One hour after moonrise. Meet me at the east stairwell. Don’t be late.”
“Or you’ll come looking?”
“Or I’ll assume you’ve run,” he said. “And I’ll hunt you down.”
My skin prickled. Not from fear. From the promise in his voice. The certainty.
Like he already knew I wouldn’t run.
Like he already knew I belonged to him.
And that—that was the most dangerous thought of all.
I turned away before he could see the crack in my armor. “I’ll be there.”
—
The ritual chamber was a circle of white marble beneath an open sky, the floor etched with ancient runes that glowed faintly under the rising moon. The air was cool, scented with night-blooming jasmine and the faint metallic tang of magic. Council members watched from the perimeter, their expressions unreadable. Cassian stood at the edge, arms folded, a smile playing at his lips.
Kaelen and I stepped into the center, the chain between us catching the moonlight. We faced each other, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body, smell the pine and smoke beneath his skin.
“Remove your coats,” a Council elder intoned. “Skin-to-skin contact is required.”
I hesitated. My uniform was already tight, the buttons straining across my chest. Removing it meant standing before the entire Council in nothing but a thin chemise and the chain that bound me to Kaelen.
But I wasn’t here to play their games. I was here to survive.
I unbuttoned my coat slowly, deliberately, letting it slide from my shoulders. The night air kissed my skin, raising goosebumps. Kaelen did the same, his movements efficient, controlled. Beneath his coat, he wore a black sleeveless tunic that clung to his chest, the muscles in his arms shifting as he moved.
“Place your hands on each other’s lower back,” the elder said. “Palms flat. Fingers spread.”
My breath hitched.
Kaelen didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his hand sliding to the small of my back, warm and firm through the thin fabric of my chemise. I mirrored him, my fingers pressing against the hard planes of his lower back, feeling the strength beneath. The chain pulsed between us, a low, steady thrum.
“Synchronize your breathing,” the elder instructed. “Inhale. Exhale. Match each other’s rhythm.”
I closed my eyes. Inhaled—deep, slow. Kaelen exhaled. I inhaled again. Our breaths synced, steady, even. The bond responded—calmer now, the heat in my veins ebbing. But the desire?
That only grew.
His hand slid higher, beneath my hair, his fingers brushing the nape of my neck. A shiver ran through me. My nipples tightened. My thighs pressed together, trying to quiet the ache between them.
“You’re fighting it,” he murmured, so low only I could hear.
“I’m not,” I lied.
“Your pulse is racing.”
“So is yours.”
He didn’t deny it. His breath was warm against my temple. His scent wrapped around me, thick, intoxicating. My body leaned into him, traitorous, hungry.
“Stop,” I whispered.
“Make me,” he said.
The runes beneath us flared—white, then gold. The chain glowed, pulsing in time with our breaths. The Council murmured. Cassian’s smile faded.
“The bond is stabilizing,” the elder announced. “They are in sync.”
But I wasn’t listening. All I could hear was Kaelen’s heartbeat, matching mine. All I could feel was his hand on my skin, his breath on my neck, the slow, insistent heat unfurling in my belly.
And then—
A pulse.
Not from the bond.
From me.
Deep in my blood. In my bones. A resonance, like a bell ringing in the dark. I gasped, stumbling back.
“Blair?” Kaelen’s voice was sharp.
“I felt something,” I said, clutching my chest. “In the Archives. There’s something there. Something hidden.”
Cassian stepped forward. “The Archives are sealed. No one enters without Council approval.”
“Then get me approval,” I said. “Or I’ll go anyway.”
“You’ll be stopped.”
“Then stop me,” I said, lifting my chin. “But know this—I’m not leaving until I find the truth. And if that means tearing every stone from this Court, I will.”
The chamber fell silent.
Kaelen’s hand tightened on my back. “She’s not bluffing,” he said. “And if there’s something in the Archives that could break the Contract, you’d be a fool not to let her look.”
Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “One hour. With an escort.”
“Alone,” I said. “Or not at all.”
“Blair—”
“No,” I said, turning to Kaelen. “This is mine. My blood. My mother’s legacy. I go alone.”
He held my gaze for a long moment. Then nodded. “One hour. No more.”
—
The Archives were deeper beneath the Court than I remembered, a labyrinth of stone corridors lit by flickering sconces. The air was thick with dust and the scent of old parchment. Shelves stretched into darkness, filled with scrolls, grimoires, forbidden texts. And at the center—
The sigil.
I felt it before I saw it. A pull in my blood, a hum in my bones. I followed it, my boots silent on the stone, my breath shallow. And then—
There.
A door, hidden behind a tapestry of a fae queen. I pushed it open, stepping into a small chamber. The walls were lined with books, but at the center—
A pedestal.
And on it, a single book bound in black leather, its cover etched with a sigil that matched the one on my locket.
My breath caught.
I stepped forward, my fingers trembling as I reached for it. The moment I touched the cover, the sigil glowed—silver, pulsing, alive. A surge of magic shot through me, hot and wild. My knees buckled. I caught myself on the pedestal, gasping.
And then—
Memory.
Not mine.
A woman—my mother—kneeling before the same pedestal. Blood on her hands. She presses her palm to the sigil, whispering in a language I don’t know. The book opens. She writes—fast, frantic. A name. A date. A sigil. Then, she closes it, blood smeared across the cover. “Only the blood of the bound can break the bond,” she whispers. “And you, my daughter, are the key.”
I gasped, jerking back. The vision vanished.
My heart pounded. My hands shook. The book—still glowing—sat before me, waiting.
I opened it.
The pages were filled with writing—my mother’s handwriting. Dates. Names. References to the Contract. And then—
A sketch.
The sigil from my locket. But beneath it, words:
“The Contract is not a law. It is a prison. And it feeds on our blood. To break it, you must claim the one who signed it—not in hate, but in truth. In love. In bond.”
My breath stopped.
No.
It couldn’t be.
Destroying the Contract didn’t mean exposing Kaelen. It meant claiming him. Not as an enemy. Not as a prisoner.
As a mate.
“Blair.”
I spun.
Kaelen stood in the doorway, golden eyes blazing. “You’re out of time.”
But I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. The book trembled in my hands.
He stepped forward, his gaze dropping to the page. And then—
He saw it.
His breath caught. “That’s not possible.”
“It is,” I whispered. “The Contract—it’s not just political. It’s alive. And it’s been waiting for me.”
He reached for the book, his fingers brushing mine. A jolt of heat. A pulse of magic. My legs weakened. 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—
The sigil on the page glowed.
And the words changed:
“Only the blood of the bound can break the bond.”
And beneath it, new text, written in ink that looked like blood:
“And the first shall be the last. The challenger shall be the key. The destroyer shall be the maker.”
Kaelen stared at it. Then at me. “Blair…”
But I didn’t hear the rest.
Because in that moment, I knew the truth.
I hadn’t come here to destroy Kaelen.
I’d come here to save him.
And to do it, I’d have to give him everything.
Even my heart.
The chain between us pulsed—hot, heavy, hungry.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
I let it in.