The obsidian corridors of the Hollow King’s private wing stretched before me like the throat of a beast—narrow, dark, and lined with veins of glowing crimson sigils that pulsed like a slow, predatory heartbeat. Kael walked ahead, silent as shadow, his long coat whispering against the stone floor. I followed, boots clicking too loud in the unnatural hush, my every sense screaming at me to run, to fight, to tear the bond from my bones with my bare hands.
But I didn’t.
I walked. Because running meant death. And I wasn’t ready to die. Not until he did.
The bond between us thrummed with every step, a live wire beneath my skin, hot and insistent. It wasn’t just in my hand anymore. It had seeped into my blood, my breath, the rhythm of my pulse. I could feel him—his presence like a weight against my spine, his emotions flickering at the edges of my awareness like embers in a dying fire. Not fear. Not regret. *Possession.*
He turned a corner, and I caught the scent of him again—winter pine, dark earth, iron. It shouldn’t have been intoxicating. It should have repulsed me. And yet, my body betrayed me. My breath hitched. My skin tightened. My witch-mark burned beneath the glove, aching to be touched.
“This way,” he said, voice low, without looking back.
I said nothing. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not yet. Not until I knew the rules of this new game.
We passed through a vaulted archway, and the air changed—warmer, heavier, laced with the faintest trace of blood. Not fresh. Old. Stored. Vampire.
His quarters.
The chamber was vast, carved from black stone and lit by floating orbs of crimson flame that hovered like captive stars. A massive hearth dominated one wall, cold and empty. A four-poster bed stood in the center, draped in velvet the color of dried wine. No windows. No mirrors. Just shadows, silence, and the slow, rhythmic pulse of the sigils along the floor.
Kael stopped just inside the threshold and turned to face me. His eyes—crimson, depthless—raked over me, slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch.
“You’ll stay here,” he said.
“I’ll stay nowhere,” I snapped. “I’m not your prisoner.”
“No,” he agreed, stepping closer. “You’re my *betrothed*. There’s a difference.”
“A technicality.”
“One that keeps you alive.”
He reached for me. I flinched back, but he only took my wrist, gloved hand and all. His touch sent a jolt through the bond, sharp and electric. I gasped despite myself.
“The bond won’t tolerate distance,” he said, voice soft, almost gentle. “Twenty-four hours apart, and you’ll begin to sicken. Forty-eight, and you’ll hallucinate. After that? The bond will consume you. Slowly. Painfully.”
“And you?” I challenged. “Do you feel it too?”
His jaw tightened. A flicker in his eyes—something raw, quickly buried. “More than you know.”
Liar. He didn’t look weakened. He looked… *awake.* Like something long dormant had finally stirred.
“Then why keep me?” I asked. “If it’s agony for you, why not sever it? Let me go.”
“Because I can’t,” he said. “And even if I could—” He stepped closer, close enough that his breath ghosted over my lips. “I wouldn’t.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. The bond flared, a surge of heat that pooled low in my belly. I hated it. I hated *him.*
But my body didn’t care.
“You think this changes anything?” I hissed. “I still came here to kill you.”
He smiled. Not warm. Not kind. A predator’s smile. “Then try.”
I lunged—not with magic, not with words, but with my body. I shoved him, hard, aiming to throw him off balance. He didn’t budge. Didn’t even stagger. Instead, he caught my wrists, twisted them behind my back, and pinned me against the wall in one fluid motion.
My breath came fast. His chest pressed against mine. I could feel the hard planes of him, the heat, the strength. His face was inches from mine. His eyes burned.
“Is this how you want it?” he murmured. “Violent? Desperate? I can give you that.”
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“You don’t own me.”
“The bond says otherwise.”
I twisted, trying to wrench free, but his grip was iron. The more I struggled, the more the bond flared—heat, pressure, a deep, aching *need* that made my vision blur.
And then—
A whisper of movement.
A flicker in the shadows.
Before I could react, a dagger sliced through the air, aimed straight for Kael’s throat.
He moved faster than sight. One moment he was pinning me, the next he was spinning, catching the blade mid-air, and hurling it back with lethal precision.
A choked gasp. A body crumpled to the floor.
One of the royal guards—eyes wide, throat slit—collapsed in the doorway.
Assassin.
My mind raced. An attempt on the Hollow King’s life? Here? Now?
But Kael was already moving. He grabbed me by the waist, swung me up into his arms, and strode toward the inner chamber.
“What are you—”
“Quiet,” he growled.
I struggled, but he held me effortlessly, his arms like steel bands. My face was pressed to his chest, my nose against the cold silk of his shirt. His heartbeat thundered against my ear—fast, unsteady. Not from exertion. From *arousal.*
The bond flared again, hotter this time, a wave of sensation that stole my breath. His scent flooded my senses—dark, intoxicating, *his.* My body responded against my will, warmth spreading through me, my nipples tightening, my thighs pressing together.
I hated it.
I hated *him.*
He kicked open a door and carried me into a smaller chamber—bedchamber within a bedchamber. A canopy bed, heavy drapes, a single candle burning low. He dropped me onto the mattress, and I scrambled back, heart pounding.
“What was that?” I demanded, sitting up. “Who sent him?”
Kael turned, his back to me, and locked the door with a twist of his wrist. The sigils flared, sealing us in. Then he faced me, his expression unreadable.
“Someone who doesn’t want our alliance to stand,” he said. “Or someone who wants you dead before you can fulfill your mission.”
My blood ran cold. “What mission?”
He smiled, slow and knowing. “The one you came here for. The one that put a dagger in your boot and lies on your tongue.”
I froze. He couldn’t know. He *couldn’t.*
But the way he looked at me—like he’d already seen inside my skull, already read my darkest thoughts—told me otherwise.
“You’re not as clever as you think,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ve been watching you since the moment you entered the Spire. I knew you were lying. I could *smell* it.”
“Vampires don’t smell lies,” I shot back. “You smell blood and fear.”
“And you,” he said, “smell like storm and iron. Like vengeance. Like *truth.*”
I stared at him. That was impossible. My truth-seeing magic was rare. To have someone *else* detect truth by scent—
Unless the bond gave him access to my magic.
My stomach dropped.
“You’re in my head,” I whispered.
“Not yet,” he said. “But I will be. The bond deepens with touch. With proximity. With *desire.*”
“There is no desire,” I spat.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him. “Liar.”
My breath caught. He was right. The bond was a living thing, feeding on every unguarded moment, every flicker of attraction I tried to bury. And I *had* felt it—when his hand closed around mine, when his breath touched my ear, when he carried me like I weighed nothing.
I had wanted him.
Just for a second.
And that second could destroy me.
“You think you can break me,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “You think this bond gives you power over me.”
“It already has,” he said. “You’re in my bed. You’re in my arms. You’re in my *blood.*”
“I’ll kill you before I let you claim me.”
“Then kill me,” he said, stepping even closer. “But know this—when you do, the bond will kill you too. And I’ll take you with me into the dark.”
He reached out, slow, and brushed a strand of hair from my face. His fingers grazed my cheek, and the bond *screamed.* Heat surged through me, a wave so intense I gasped, my back arching off the bed.
His eyes darkened. “You feel that,” he murmured. “That’s not magic. That’s *us.*”
I wanted to slap him. To scream. To tear his heart from his chest.
But all I could do was lie there, trembling, as the bond pulsed between us, relentless, *hungry.*
He leaned down, his lips inches from mine. “Fight me,” he whispered. “And I’ll break you.”
I turned my head, breaking the near-kiss, my breath ragged. “You’re not the first monster I’ve faced.”
“No,” he agreed. “But I’ll be the last.”
He straightened, stepping back. “You’ll stay here. The bond won’t allow you far. And if you try to leave—” He paused, his gaze dropping to my lips, then back to my eyes. “I’ll find you. And next time, I won’t stop at words.”
He turned and walked to the door.
“Where are you going?” I demanded.
“To deal with the assassin’s handler,” he said, hand on the lock. “And to make sure no one else tries to kill my betrothed tonight.”
“You don’t care about me,” I said. “You only care about the bond.”
He looked back at me, his expression unreadable. “Maybe. Or maybe I care about what happens to you when I’m not there to protect you.”
Then he was gone, the door sealing shut behind him with a final, echoing click.
Silence.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart still racing, my skin still humming from his touch. The bond pulsed, a steady, insistent throb, like a second heartbeat.
I was trapped.
Not just by the bond. Not just by the locked door.
By *him.*
He knew my mission. He could smell my lies. He could feel my desire, even when I tried to deny it.
And worst of all—he wasn’t afraid of me.
He *wanted* the fight.
I reached into my boot, fingers closing around the hilt of my dagger. My one weapon. My one advantage.
But even that felt hollow now.
Because if I used it on him, I’d die too.
And if I didn’t—
I closed my eyes.
The truth was worse than I’d imagined.
I wasn’t here to kill the Hollow King.
I was here to survive him.
And if I wasn’t careful, I’d end up wanting to keep him.
That thought—that *fear*—was more dangerous than any blade.
I stood, pacing the room, my mind racing. I needed a plan. A way to weaken the bond. A way to turn it against him.
But first, I needed information.
I moved to the desk in the corner, carved from black oak and inlaid with silver runes. Drawers. Locked. I pressed my gloved hand to the lock, whispering a blood-unseal—*Sanguis aperio.*
The lock clicked open.
Inside: ledgers. Council decrees. Maps of Nocturne. And one file, sealed with a blood-wax stamp—*Veyra.*
My mother’s name.
My breath caught.
I broke the seal and opened it.
Pages of testimony. Accusations. A forged signature. And at the bottom—Kael’s seal. His approval.
He’d signed her death warrant.
My hands trembled. Rage surged, hot and blinding. I wanted to scream. To burn the room. To find him and make him pay.
But then I saw it.
A marginal note, in a different hand—*Overruled by Vexis. King’s plea for clemency denied.*
I froze.
He’d tried to save her.
And failed.
The room tilted. The bond pulsed, a low, aching throb, like it knew what I’d found.
Why hadn’t he told me?
Why let me believe he was the monster?
Was this part of his game? To make me doubt? To make me *care?*
I didn’t know.
But one thing was certain—this changed everything.
I wasn’t just fighting a tyrant.
I was fighting a man who might have tried to save my mother.
And that made him infinitely more dangerous.
Because now, I wasn’t just risking my life if I failed.
I was risking my heart.
And that—more than any bond—was the one thing I couldn’t afford to lose.