The forest beyond Blackthorn Keep was a tangle of thorned vines and ancient oaks, their gnarled branches clawing at the twilight sky. I’d come here to think. To breathe. To escape the suffocating weight of the bond, the constant hum of Kaelen’s presence in my blood, the way his scent clung to my skin like a second shadow. But even here, miles from the keep, the air was thick with him—dark amber and old blood, laced with something deeper, something that made my wolf pace beneath my ribs.
I leaned against a tree, pressing my palm to the sigil on my chest—no, not my chest. My *palm*. The mark still glowed faintly, pulsing with every beat of my heart, a constant reminder that I wasn’t free. That I wasn’t alone. That I was *his*, whether I wanted to be or not.
I clenched my jaw.
I didn’t want to be.
Not really.
But my body disagreed.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him—above me, fangs bared, voice rough: *“You’re mine.”* Every time I breathed, I inhaled his scent. Every time my pulse spiked, it synced with his, a rhythm I couldn’t break.
And worst of all—
I liked it.
Not the control. Not the lies. Not the way he’d bitten me while I was unconscious, feeding me his blood like I was some broken thing that needed fixing.
But the *heat*.
The way his hands felt on my skin. The way his voice dropped when he said my name. The way his eyes burned when he looked at me, like I was the only fire in a world of ash.
I hated that I wanted him.
I hated that my body betrayed me.
And I hated that, no matter how far I ran, the bond always pulled me back.
A twig snapped.
I froze.
My ears twitched, filtering through the night sounds—the rustle of leaves, the distant howl of a wolf, the whisper of wind through the branches. But this was different. Closer. Deliberate.
Not an animal.
Not a guard.
Something else.
I crouched, my claws sliding free, my fangs aching in my gums. My wolf surged, pressing against my ribs, ready. The bond flared, a sharp tug in my chest—*danger*. Kaelen felt it too. I could sense him, distant but alert, his pulse quickening in response.
And then—
They came.
Three figures, moving like smoke, their forms blurred by glamour. Vampires. Not from Kaelen’s house—too fast, too feral. Their eyes glowed crimson in the dark, their fangs fully descended. And their scent—oil and iron, the stench of Malrik’s spies.
Assassins.
They didn’t speak. Didn’t taunt. Just attacked.
The first lunged, claws raking toward my throat. I ducked, slashing upward with my dagger. Silver bit into flesh, and he hissed, stumbling back. The second came from the side, a blade flashing in the dim light. I spun, blocking with my forearm, but the impact sent me skidding across the forest floor.
The third didn’t hesitate.
He threw a dagger.
It buried itself in my shoulder, the metal searing with witch-forged poison. I screamed, the pain white-hot, my vision blurring. My wolf howled, but the poison was already spreading, weakening my limbs, clouding my mind.
I tried to rise.
Couldn’t.
The assassins closed in, circling like wolves. One grabbed my wrist, yanking me to my feet. Another wrenched the dagger from my shoulder, blood slicking my tunic. The third pressed a blade to my throat.
“Malrik sends his regards,” he hissed, his breath reeking of rot.
I spat in his face.
He backhanded me, stars exploding behind my eyes. My lip split. Blood filled my mouth.
And then—
The forest *exploded*.
Shadows tore through the air like living things, wrapping around the assassins, dragging them off me. One screamed as his body was crushed against a tree. Another was flung into the underbrush, bones cracking. The third turned, blade raised—
And Kaelen was on him.
My breath caught.
He moved like death given form—fast, silent, *lethal*. One hand clamped around the assassin’s throat, the other driving a dagger into his heart. The vampire crumpled, dust scattering in the wind.
And then—
Kaelen was in front of me.
His eyes blazed crimson, his fangs fully descended, his chest rising and falling too fast. Blood streaked his face—his? Mine? I didn’t know. Didn’t care.
“Petunia,” he growled, gripping my arms. “Are you hurt?”
I tried to pull away. “I don’t need you.”
“You’re bleeding,” he snapped, his hands sliding to my shoulder, pressing against the wound. Pain flared, but so did heat—his touch, his scent, the bond *screaming* between us. “They poisoned you.”
“Then let me die,” I hissed. “Wouldn’t that solve your problem?”
His jaw tightened. “You think I want you dead?”
“You want me *controlled*,” I said. “Bound. Obedient. A pretty pet to parade in front of the council.”
“I want you *alive*,” he said, his voice rough. “And right now, you’re not.”
Before I could argue, he swept me into his arms, lifting me like I weighed nothing. I gasped, struggling, but the poison was spreading, my limbs weak, my vision blurring.
“Put me down,” I choked.
“No,” he said, turning toward the keep. “You’re coming with me.”
“I said *no*—”
“You don’t get a choice,” he growled, his arms tightening. “The poison will kill you in minutes. And if you die, the bond will tear me apart. So you’re going to accept this. You’re going to *live*.”
I wanted to fight. To scream. To claw at him until he let me go.
But I couldn’t.
The world spun. My breath came in short, ragged gasps. The wound in my shoulder burned, the poison spreading through my veins like ice. And the bond—
It was *screaming*.
Not just from me.
From *him*.
I could feel his fear. His rage. His *need*.
And worse—
I could feel my own.
Not just for survival.
But for *him*.
His arms around me. His scent filling my lungs. The steady beat of his heart against my chest.
I hated that I wanted this.
Hated that I *needed* it.
But as the forest blurred around us, as his shadow-walking carried us toward the keep in a rush of darkness, I stopped fighting.
And I *leaned* into him.
Just a fraction.
Just enough.
––––––
The infirmary was cold, sterile, lit by flickering black candles. I lay on a stone slab, my body trembling, my breath shallow. Kaelen stood over me, his hands moving with practiced precision as he cleaned the wound, his expression unreadable.
“The poison is witch-forged,” he said, pressing a cloth soaked in silver oil to my shoulder. “It targets hybrid blood. Slows regeneration. Weakens the wolf.”
“You sound like you’ve seen it before,” I muttered, my voice weak.
“I have,” he said. “Malrik uses it on rebels. Half-breeds he wants to silence.”
My stomach twisted.
“So he sent them to kill me. Not just to stop me from finding the grimoire. But to erase me.”
“Yes,” Kaelen said, his hands stilling. “And if I hadn’t found you—”
“I’d be dead,” I finished. “And you’d be free of me.”
He looked up, his crimson eyes locking onto mine. “I don’t want to be free of you.”
“Liar,” I whispered.
“Am I?” he asked, his thumb brushing the edge of the wound. A jolt of pain—and pleasure—shot through me. “You think I’d let you die? After everything? After the bond? After the way you scream my name in your sleep?”
My breath hitched.
“I don’t scream.”
“You do,” he said, leaning closer. “Every night. Soft. Desperate. Like you’re begging for me.”
“It’s the bond,” I choked. “It’s not real.”
“Then why does your body react?” he murmured, his hand sliding down my arm, his fingers brushing the inside of my wrist. My pulse jumped. My skin burned. “Why does your scent change when I touch you? Why does your wolf *calm* when I’m near?”
“Because it’s magic,” I said, my voice trembling. “Because the bond forces it.”
“No,” he said, his lips brushing my ear. “The bond *reveals* it. Your body knows the truth. Even if your mind refuses to.”
I turned my head, trying to pull away, but he caught my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“You’re not just my mate,” he said, voice low. “You’re my *equal*. My match. And if Malrik thinks killing you will break me, he’s wrong. It’ll destroy me.”
My chest tightened.
“You don’t get to say things like that,” I whispered. “You don’t get to use my own weakness against me.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m telling you the truth. Something you’ve never heard from me before.”
And then—
He leaned down.
His lips hovered over mine.
One breath away.
One heartbeat.
And then—
A guard burst in. “My lord! Malrik’s men are at the gates!”
Kaelen didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
Just kept his eyes on mine, his breath warm against my lips.
“Secure the perimeter,” he said, voice cold. “I’ll be there shortly.”
“But—”
“*Go*.”
The guard bowed and left.
Silence fell.
And then—
Kaelen pulled back, his hand sliding from my chin. “You need rest. The poison will take hours to fully clear.”
“And you need to deal with Malrik,” I said, my voice hoarse.
“Yes,” he said, standing. “But I’ll be back.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do,” he said, turning at the door. “Because if you die, I die. And if you live—”
He looked back, his eyes burning. “—then I get to keep you.”
And then he was gone.
I lay there, my body aching, my mind racing.
He’d saved me.
Again.
Not for power. Not for control.
But because he *needed* me.
And worse—
I *believed* him.
––––––
Hours passed.
The poison faded, my strength returning in slow waves. The wound still throbbed, but it was healing. My wolf stirred, restless, agitated. The bond hummed, a low, steady pulse, but something was different.
It felt… deeper.
Stronger.
Like the near-death experience had *sealed* it, not broken it.
I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the slab. The infirmary was empty. Quiet. The candles burned low.
I needed to move.
To fight.
To burn off the excess magic, the restless energy, the *need*.
I stood, wincing as my shoulder pulled, and made my way to the training grounds.
The night air was cool, the sky streaked with stars. The dummies stood in their usual formation, untouched. I grabbed my dagger, my fingers tightening around the hilt.
And then—
I heard it.
Voices.
From the edge of the courtyard.
I crouched, moving silently, my senses sharp. Two figures—vampires, dressed in black. Malrik’s men. One held a scroll, the other a vial of dark liquid.
“The poison didn’t kill her,” the first hissed. “Duskbane intervened.”
“Then we try again,” the second said. “But this time, we use the grimoire.”
My breath caught.
“The Vale Codex?” the first asked. “But it’s hidden. No one knows where—”
“Malrik does,” the second said. “He’s had it for years. And now, he’s going to use it to break the bond. To turn her against Duskbane.”
My pulse spiked.
They had the grimoire.
And they were going to use it to destroy me.
I didn’t hesitate.
I lunged.
My dagger flashed, slicing through the first vampire’s throat. He crumpled, dust scattering. The second turned, vial raised—
And I drove my blade into his heart.
He fell.
I snatched the scroll from his hand, unrolling it with trembling fingers.
And froze.
It was a map.
Of Blackthorn Keep.
And in the center—
A chamber.
Beneath the east wing.
Labeled: *“Vale Codex – Hidden where the moon does not rise.”*
My mother’s words.
“Hidden where the moon does not rise, beneath the hand of the betrayer.”
And beneath it—
A name.
Not Kaelen’s.
Malrik’s.
He had it.
He’d had it all along.
And Kaelen—
He hadn’t stolen it.
He’d been trying to *protect* it.
The truth hit me like a dagger to the gut.
I’d been wrong.
About everything.
And as the bond pulsed, a deep, satisfied hum, I realized—
I wasn’t just here to burn him.
I was here to burn *with* him.
And that terrified me more than anything.
But worse—
It felt like coming home.