They say the Hollow King drinks the blood of liars. Good. I’ll make him choke on mine.
The Obsidian Spire loomed ahead, a jagged crown of black stone piercing the bruised sky of Nocturne. Spires spiraled like twisted bones, veined with glowing sigils that pulsed in time with the city’s hidden heartbeat. Beneath the Gothic arches and brutalist fortifications, the Supernatural Council ruled—seven seats of power, seven species at war beneath a fragile peace. And at its center, the vampire monarch known as Kael, the Hollow King.
I adjusted the dagger in my boot, the cold steel a familiar comfort against my ankle. My witch-mark burned beneath the leather gloves, a spiral of silver ink on my left palm that only revealed itself when I bled. I hadn’t used it in years. Not since they burned my mother’s name from the archives and called her a traitor.
My mission was simple: infiltrate, survive, kill.
I stepped through the arched gate, my heels clicking against the obsidian tiles. The guards—two hulking werewolves in black armor—sniffed the air as I passed. I held my breath, let my glamour slip just enough to mask my half-fae scent with the dull hum of a neutral diplomat. My hair, a storm of crimson waves, was pinned back. My dress—deep violet, high-collared, unassuming—was woven with protective sigils in my own blood. Every stitch, every thread, was a weapon.
The Great Hall stretched before me, a cathedral of shadows and candlelight. Seven thrones rose in a crescent, each carved from a different material—bone, ironwood, black coral. The air smelled of old blood, incense, and something darker: ambition. The Council members watched me enter, their eyes glinting like knives in the dark.
Lord Vexis, the Seelie Fae Councillor, smiled. A cold, calculated thing. He was the one who’d condemned my mother. The one who’d whispered lies into the Hollow King’s ear. And now, he was welcoming me with open arms.
“Crimson of the Unseelie Blood,” he announced, voice dripping with false warmth. “Last heir of House Veyra. We are honored by your presence.”
I bowed, just enough to be polite, not enough to be submissive. “The honor is mine, Lord Vexis. I come in peace, seeking unity.”
Unity. The word tasted like ash. I wasn’t here for peace. I was here for fire.
The Hollow King sat at the center throne, draped in black velvet and silence. He hadn’t moved since I entered. His skin was pale as moonlight, his jaw sharp enough to cut stone. His eyes—crimson, ancient, endless—were fixed on me. Not with curiosity. Not with suspicion.
Recognition.
My pulse spiked. The bond between us hadn’t formed yet. It shouldn’t have. Not until the ritual. And yet, something in his gaze made my blood hum, like a string pulled too tight.
“The unity pact must be sealed,” Vexis continued, gesturing to the dais between us. “A ritual of skin and soul. The last unclaimed fae-blooded heir and the vampire monarch shall bind hands, seal the alliance, and prove their loyalty to the Council.”
My stomach dropped.
This wasn’t in the plan.
I’d expected a treaty, a signature, a blood-oath. Not a ritual. Not a touch.
But I had no choice. Refusal would mark me as a threat. And I needed to stay close. Close enough to slip a blade between his ribs when the moment came.
I stepped onto the dais. The floor was carved with runes, glowing faintly beneath my feet. The air thickened, charged with magic. A silver chalice sat between us, filled with a liquid that shimmered like mercury—fae-blood and vampire essence, mixed for the binding.
Kael rose.
He moved like smoke, silent and deliberate. His boots didn’t echo. His presence didn’t announce itself. It simply *was*, pressing against my skin like a weight.
He stopped inches from me. Tall. Impossibly still. The scent of him hit me—dark earth, winter pine, something metallic, like old blood and iron. My breath caught.
“You don’t belong here,” he said, voice low, meant only for me.
I met his gaze. “Neither do you.”
A flicker in his eyes. Amusement? Challenge?
“Place your hands over the chalice,” Vexis commanded. “Let the ritual begin.”
I exhaled. This was it. The moment I’d trained for. The moment I’d bled for.
I reached out.
So did he.
Our fingers hovered above the liquid. I could feel the heat radiating from his skin, though the room was cold. My witch-mark burned hotter beneath my glove. I could smell the truth on him—his scent was clean, unclouded by lies. But that meant nothing. Vampires didn’t lie with words. They lied with silence.
“Now,” Vexis said.
We lowered our hands.
Our fingertips brushed.
Fire.
White-hot, searing, *alive*. It ripped through my veins like lightning, burning through every lie, every defense, every wall I’d built. I gasped, but no sound came. My knees buckled. His hand closed around mine—tight, unyielding—and the connection *snapped* into place.
A mate-bond.
Impossible.
Fated.
The chalice shattered. The liquid exploded into vapor, swirling around us in a storm of silver and crimson. The runes on the floor flared, then cracked. The Council members shouted, some stumbling back, others rising in alarm.
But I couldn’t look away.
Kael’s eyes were wide, his pupils blown. His breath came fast, uneven. His grip on my hand was the only thing holding me upright. I could feel his pulse in my own chest, our heartbeats syncing, pounding in time.
“No,” I whispered.
It wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Not *ever*.
Fae-blooded witches couldn’t form fated bonds with vampires. It was forbidden. Biologically impossible. Our magics were incompatible. Our blood would reject each other.
And yet, the bond was real. I could feel it—a tether between us, pulsing with heat and hunger. It wasn’t just magic. It was *need*. A deep, primal pull that made my skin ache and my breath shallow.
He felt it too.
His other hand lifted, slow, like he was afraid I’d vanish. His thumb brushed the back of my glove, then traced the edge of my wrist. My skin burned where he touched.
“You’re mine,” he murmured, voice raw, like he was speaking through fire.
I yanked my hand back, but the bond held. I could feel him in my head, in my blood, in the space between my ribs. It was unbearable. Intimate. Wrong.
“This is a mistake,” I hissed. “Break it.”
“I can’t,” he said. “It’s already sealed.”
Vexis stepped forward, his smile sharper now. “Fate has spoken. The unity is forged. Crimson of House Veyra is now betrothed to Kael, the Hollow King, until the bond is consummated or broken by death.”
Laughter bubbled in my throat. Hysterical. This was a nightmare.
I looked at Kael. “You knew.”
“No,” he said. “But I’ve waited centuries for this. And I won’t let it go.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” I snapped.
“I already have.”
He turned to the Council. “She will reside in the royal chambers. Under my protection.”
“And if I refuse?” I challenged.
His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes. “Fight me, and I’ll break you. Run, and the bond will kill you. You have twenty-four hours apart before the sickness starts. Fever. Hallucinations. Then death.”
My blood ran cold.
He wasn’t bluffing.
The mate-bond wasn’t just a political tool. It was a leash. And I was already collared.
I clenched my jaw. I’d come here to kill him. To avenge my mother. To burn his legacy to ash.
And now, I was bound to him—by magic, by blood, by a force I couldn’t control.
But I wasn’t powerless.
I straightened, lifting my chin. “You want me as your betrothed? Fine. But know this—I didn’t come here to be tamed. I came here to burn you alive.”
His lips curved, just slightly. Not a smile. A promise.
“Then burn me, little witch,” he said, stepping closer. “But know that fire doesn’t scare me. It *feeds* me.”
The bond flared between us, a surge of heat that made my knees weak. His scent wrapped around me, thick and intoxicating. For a single, traitorous second, I wanted to step into him. To feel his hands on my waist, his mouth on my neck.
I wanted to hate him.
But the bond didn’t care about hate.
It only knew hunger.
And I was starving.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re already mine,” he whispered. “Even if you don’t know it yet.”
The Council watched in stunned silence. Vexis’s smile hadn’t faded. If anything, it had widened.
This was his plan.
He’d known. He’d *wanted* this.
But why?
I didn’t have time to think. Kael’s hand closed around mine again, and he pulled me forward, toward the doors.
“Come,” he said. “We have much to discuss. And little time to waste.”
I let him lead me, my mind racing. The dagger in my boot was still there. My magic still hummed beneath my skin. My mission wasn’t over.
It had just changed.
I wasn’t just here to kill the Hollow King.
I was here to survive him.
And when the time came—when the bond was weakest, when his guard was down—I would make him regret the day he ever touched me.
But as we walked through the shadowed halls, his presence a constant pressure against my back, I felt something I hadn’t in years.
Doubt.
Because the truth was worse than I’d imagined.
I didn’t just want to kill him.
Part of me already wanted to keep him.
And that was the most dangerous thought of all.