The silence after Kaelen left was worse than shouting.
It wasn’t empty. It was charged—thick with the scent of sex and wolf and almost, with the ghost of his fingers inside me, his cock pressed to my entrance, the way my body had arched, begged, broken for him. I stood in the center of his private chamber, wrapped in his coat, my bare legs trembling, my core still pulsing with need. The fire in the hearth crackled, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls, but the heat didn’t reach me. Nothing did. Not anymore.
Because I wasn’t just almost his.
I was his.
And I’d let him see it.
My breath came short, ragged. My hands clenched at the lapels of his coat, the fabric rough against my skin. I could still feel the weight of his body over mine, the way his mouth had hovered at my neck, his fangs grazing my pulse. The way he’d made me say it—I want you, I’m yours—over and over, until the words weren’t lies, until they were truth, until they were mine.
And then Lucien had walked in.
And Kaelen had stopped.
Not because he didn’t want me.
Because he did.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
I turned, my bare feet silent on the stone, and walked to the door. My body ached—deep, delicious, used—but not in the way I needed. Not in the way that would silence the hunger, the fire, the truth that had torn from my lips in the Bathhouse and now refused to be buried. I opened the door and stepped into the corridor—
And froze.
Seraphine stood there, just outside the chamber, her back to the wall, her arms crossed, her lips curved in a slow, knowing smile. She wore a white silk robe—his robe—draped loosely over one shoulder, the fabric slipping to reveal the curve of her breast, the faint, glowing bite mark on her collarbone. Her hair was tousled, her lips swollen, her skin flushed. She looked like she’d just been fucked.
And she was smiling.
“Ebony,” she purred, stepping forward. “I was just thinking about you.”
My breath caught.
Behind her, two Enforcers stood at the end of the corridor, their eyes sharp, their stances rigid. They didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched.
“You’re not allowed here,” I said, voice low.
“I was invited,” she said, her eyes flicking to the open door behind me. “By Kaelen.”
“Liar,” I said, stepping forward. “He was just here. With me.”
She laughed—soft, intimate. “Was he? Then why does he still taste like me?”
My stomach dropped.
“You’re pathetic,” I said, stepping closer. “You think a glamour bite and a stolen robe make you his?”
“I think the proof is on my body,” she said, turning her head, tilting her neck. The bite mark glowed faintly—real this time. Not a glamour. “And in his bed. And in his mouth.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her—vanilla, sex, him. “Then why does he still carry my scent? Why does he still have my blood on his sheets?”
“Because he’s a liar,” I said. “And you’re a fool for believing him.”
She laughed. “We’ll see.”
And then—
She leaned in and kissed me.
Not on the lips.
On the cheek.
But it was worse. Intimate. Mocking.
Her lips were warm. Her breath sweet. And when she pulled back, she whispered:
“He likes it rough. Did he tell you that? Did he tell you how he bites?”
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
But inside, something shattered.
Jealousy. Hot. Vicious. Unwanted.
It clawed at my chest, twisted in my gut. I didn’t care if Kaelen had slept with her. I didn’t care if he’d bitten her. He was the enemy. A means to an end.
But my body—my traitorous, bond-cursed body—reacted.
My skin burned. My breath came short. My core clenched.
And the sigils on my wrist—glowed.
I shoved her.
Hard.
She stumbled back, her smile never fading. “You’re jealous,” she said, voice soft. “I can see it. The way your pulse jumps. The way your magic crackles. The way your body trembles when you think of him with me.”
“I’m not jealous,” I snapped.
“Liar.”
The word hit me like a slap. And then—
The bond flared.
Heat flooded my core. My skin burned. My nipples tightened beneath the fabric of his coat. The sigils on my wrist glowed brighter, golden light racing up my arms.
She saw it. And she smiled.
“You feel that,” she murmured, stepping closer. “That’s not hate. That’s need. And it’s not going to be denied.”
“Get out,” I hissed.
“Or what?” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ll tell Kaelen? Oh, I’m sure he’d love to know how jealous you are. How possessive. How weak.”
“I’m not weak.”
“Aren’t you?” She turned her head slightly, showing the bite mark again. “Then why does it hurt? Why does it burn?”
My breath caught.
“Because you care,” she said, stepping closer. “And that terrifies you.”
“I don’t care about him.”
“Liar.”
The bond flared—hot, violent. My sigils glowed, crimson and gold, racing up my arms. My magic crackled in the air.
And then—
I shoved her again.
Harder.
She stumbled back, her robe slipping from one shoulder, revealing the curve of her breast, the faint, glowing mark on her hip—his mark. Not a mating bite. Not a claim. But something close.
My stomach dropped.
“You’re lying,” I said, voice breaking. “That’s not his mark.”
“Isn’t it?” She turned, showing the mark fully. It glowed faintly—silver and gold, the shape of a wolf’s head. “He gave it to me last night. Said I needed protection. Said I was his.”
“He was with me last night,” I said, my voice raw. “Not you.”
“Was he?” She turned her head slightly, showing the bite mark again. “Then why does he have my blood on his sheets? Why does he still carry my scent?”
“Because he’s a liar,” I said. “And you’re a fool for believing him.”
She laughed. “We’ll see.”
Then she turned and walked out, her hips swaying, the robe slipping from one shoulder.
Silence.
I didn’t move. Just stood there, heart pounding, hands shaking, my body trembling with need and rage and jealousy.
It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.
I wasn’t supposed to care.
But I did.
And that terrified me more than any blade, any curse, any lie.
I turned and walked back into the chamber, closing the door behind me. The fire still burned, the furs still warm, the scent of him still thick in the air. I walked to the bed and sat on the edge, my hands clenched at my sides, my breath shallow.
And then—
I screamed.
Not a cry. Not a sob.
A scream—raw, guttural, primal. I screamed until my throat was raw, until my breath came in ragged gasps, until my body trembled with exhaustion.
And then—
I stood.
I didn’t care about Seraphine.
I didn’t care about her lies.
I didn’t care about her proof.
But I cared that Kaelen hadn’t denied it.
And that terrified me more than anything.
Because it meant I was already losing.
And the worst part?
I didn’t know if I wanted to win anymore.
I found him in the war room, standing over a map of Avalon, his back to the door, his shoulders tense. He didn’t turn when I entered. Just stood there, silent, his hands clenched at his sides.
“You were with her,” I said, voice low.
He didn’t answer.
“You were with Seraphine. You gave her a mark. You let her wear your scent. You let her lie and say you were with her.”
Still nothing.
“Answer me.”
He turned slowly, his golden eyes blazing. “You don’t believe her.”
“Do you deny it?”
“I don’t have to. The bond would know. If I’d been with her, it would reject you. It would burn. But it doesn’t. It wants you. Only you.”
“Then why does she have a real bite mark?”
“Because I let her.”
My breath caught. “What?”
“Not like that,” he snapped. “She came to me last night—after the ritual. Said Lucien was threatening her. Said she needed protection. I gave her a defensive mark. A ward. Not a mating bite. Not a claim.”
“And the robe?”
“She stole it.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect you to trust me.”
“After everything? After Lucien? After the vault? After you let her wear your scent?”
“I did it to protect the pack,” he said, stepping closer. “To keep Lucien from using her against us. You think I wanted her in my bed? You think I wanted her blood on my sheets?”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you’d react like this.”
“Like what?”
“Jealous.”
The word hit me like a blade.
“I’m not jealous.”
“Liar.”
The bond flared—hot, violent. My sigils glowed, crimson and gold, racing up my arms. My magic crackled in the air.
And then—
I shoved him.
Hard.
He didn’t move. Just stood there, his jaw clenched, his eyes blazing.
So I did it again.
And again.
Until I was screaming, my fists pounding his chest, my voice raw. “You don’t get to control me! You don’t get to lie and expect me to trust you! You don’t get to use me and then pretend you care!”
He caught my wrists, pinning them above my head, pressing me against the wall. Our bodies aligned—chest to chest, hip to hip. Heat flooded between us. The sigils on my wrist burned against his skin. My breath hitched. My core clenched.
“I do care,” he growled. “And you know it. The bond knows it. Your body knows it.”
“I hate you,” I whispered.
“Then why are you wet?”
His hand slid down my side, his thumb brushing the curve of my hip, then lower—between my thighs. I gasped, my body arching, my core clenching around nothing.
“You feel that?” he murmured, his mouth at my ear. “That’s not hate. That’s need. And it’s not going to be denied.”
“Prove she’s lying,” I demanded, my voice breaking. “Prove you didn’t want her.”
He leaned in—so close our lips almost touched. His breath was hot on my mouth. His eyes burned into mine.
“Or prove you care,” he whispered.
And then—
I did.
I kissed him.
Hard. Deep. Desperate.
His mouth opened under mine, his tongue meeting mine, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me against him. The bond screamed—golden light wrapping around us, binding us, consuming us.
And for the first time—
I didn’t hate it.
I just wanted.
And when he lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist, his cock hard against my core, I didn’t stop him.
Because I knew the truth.
And so did he.
I didn’t care about Seraphine.
I didn’t care about her lies.
I didn’t care about her proof.
But I cared that Kaelen hadn’t denied it fast enough.
And that terrified me more than anything.
Because it meant I was already losing.
And the worst part?
I didn’t know if I wanted to win anymore.
He broke the kiss slowly, reluctantly, his breath hot against my lips. His golden eyes were dark, pupils blown, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitch. He didn’t let me go. Just held me against the wall, my back pressed to cold stone, his body caging me in.
“Don’t,” I whispered, my voice raw. “Don’t stop.”
He exhaled, a low, pained sound. “If I don’t, I won’t be able to.”
“Then don’t.”
He closed his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do.”
“No. You don’t.” His voice dropped, rough. “I’m an Alpha. I don’t just fuck. I claim. And if I mark you—if I bite you during climax—it’s forever. Legally. Politically. There’s no undoing it.”
My breath caught.
Marking. A bite during climax. Permanent bond. Marriage. War.
I should’ve pulled away. Should’ve shoved him back, spat venom, reminded him that I came here to destroy him, not become his mate.
But I didn’t.
Because for the first time, the thought of being his didn’t feel like a prison.
It felt like home.
And that terrified me more than any blade, any curse, any lie.
He opened his eyes. “Say it again,” he said, voice low. “Say you want me. Not because the bond demands it. Not because you’re angry or jealous or desperate. Say it because you mean it.”
I stared at him. My heart pounded. My core clenched. The sigils on my wrist burned.
And then—
“I want you,” I whispered.
He didn’t move. Just watched me, searching my face for the lie.
But there wasn’t one.
Not this time.
So he kissed me again.
Hard. Deep. Claiming.
His hands slid under my robe, gripping my bare ass, lifting me higher. I wrapped my legs around him, my core grinding against his cock, the thin fabric between us no barrier at all. The bond screamed—golden light wrapping around us, magic crackling in the air. The candles on the dais flared. The contract scroll pulsed.
And then—
The door opened.
We broke apart like criminals caught in the act. I slid down his body, my legs trembling, my breath ragged. Kaelen stepped back, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing. Riven stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
“Alpha,” he said. “The High Fae envoy has arrived. Orlanth is here.”
My blood ran cold.
Orlanth. The High Fae Magistrate. Cold, beautiful, deadly. The kind of Fae who’d rip out your soul for a misplaced word. And now he was here—to inspect the bond, to verify its stability, to ensure we weren’t faking our unity.
And if he sensed the truth—that the bond had deepened, that we’d crossed the line from forced proximity to desire—he’d see it as a threat. A half-Fae witch, bound to a werewolf Alpha? Unnatural. Dangerous. Aberrant.
He’d kill me.
Kaelen turned to me, his voice low. “We need to stabilize the bond. Fully. Or he’ll exile us both.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then you lose your shot at Lucien. And I lose my city.”
“And if we do?”
“Then we survive. For now.”
I clenched my jaw. “There’s a ritual.”
“There is.”
“Skin to skin. Truth to truth.”
“Yes.”
“And if I lie—”
“The bond burns you. You know this.”
I did. I’d felt it. In the garden. In the corridor. In the ritual chamber. The bond didn’t punish deception—it consumed it. And the more I lied, the more it flared, until the pain became unbearable.
But the truth?
The truth set it free.
“Where?” I asked.
“The archives,” he said. “It’s secure. No one will interrupt us.”
I didn’t answer. Just walked past him, my bare feet silent on the stone.
The archives were deep beneath the estate—carved from black rock, lit by floating orbs of witch-fire. Rows of ancient tomes lined the shelves, their spines etched with sigils that pulsed faintly. The air was cool, thick with the scent of old paper and magic. In the center of the room, a low stone altar stood, covered in Fae runes that glowed faintly.
“This is where it happens,” Kaelen said, closing the heavy door behind us. The lock clicked into place. No escape. No witnesses. Just us. And the fire between us.
“You know the rules,” he said, stepping closer. “Skin to skin. Truth to truth. The bond demands honesty. And if you lie—”
“I’ll burn,” I finished. “You’ve said that.”
He nodded. “Then say it again. And mean it.”
“I hate you.”
Nothing.
No flare. No pain. No magic.
Because it wasn’t a lie.
Not entirely.
“Again,” he said.
“I hate you,” I whispered.
Still nothing.
But my pulse jumped. My breath hitched. My core clenched.
“You’re lying to yourself,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Not to the bond. To yourself.”
I didn’t answer. Just stared at him, my eyes wide, my breath shallow.
He reached for me.
And this time, I didn’t pull away.
His fingers brushed the knot of my robe. One tug, and it fell. I stood before him in nothing but the remnants of my lace panties, my skin pale and flawless, my body curved and strong. The sigils on my wrist glowed, but they weren’t the only marks on me. Faint, silvery lines traced my ribs—old scars. Witch sigils, etched in blood and pain. And between my breasts, just above my heart, a small, crescent-shaped birthmark. Like a moon. Like the bond.
Beautiful.
Mine.
He saw it.
His eyes flicked to the birthmark, then back to my face. And for the first time, something shifted in his expression—something raw, something real.
“You’re not just a witch,” he said, voice low. “You’re Fae-touched. Aren’t you?”
My breath caught.
No one knew. Not Riven. Not Lucien. Not even Mira, my mother’s best friend, who’d raised me after the fire. I’d hidden it—buried it beneath layers of illusion, blood magic, denial.
But Kaelen saw it.
And the bond knew.
“Answer,” he said, stepping closer. “Or the bond will burn you.”
I clenched my fists. “Yes.”
The bond pulsed—warm, steady. No flare. No punishment. Truth.
“Good,” he murmured. “Now tell me—why did you come here?”
“To expose Lucien,” I whispered.
“And?”
“To destroy him.”
“And?”
She hesitated.
“And?”
“To avenge my mother.”
The bond pulsed—warm, steady. No flare. No punishment. Truth.
“Good,” he murmured. “Now tell me—why did you kiss me in the Council chamber?”
I went still.
My breath caught. My body tensed.
“Answer,” he said, his hand sliding down my side, his thumb brushing the curve of my hip. “Or the bond will burn you.”
“I—”
My voice broke.
“Say it.”
“I kissed you because—”
“Because?”
“Because I wanted you.”
The bond screamed.
Not in punishment.
In pleasure.
Golden light exploded across my skin, racing up his arms, his chest, his spine. Magic crackled between us, raw and wild. My body arched, my core clenching, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
“Again,” he said, his hand sliding between my thighs. “Why did you want to kiss me?”
“Because—”
Her voice broke.
“Because?”
“Because I needed you.”
Fire.
Light.
Ecstasy.
My body convulsed, my back arching off the altar, my hands gripping his arms, my thighs squeezing his. The sigils glowed so bright they lit the chamber, casting shadows on the walls.
And then—
I came.
Not from touch. Not from penetration.
From truth.
The bond accepted it. Celebrated it. And my body—my traitorous, beautiful body—responded.
Kaelen watched me—my face twisted in pleasure, my mouth open in a silent cry, my chest heaving. And something in me broke.
Not my control.
My resistance.
Because I’d been lying too.
I didn’t just want him for the bond.
I didn’t just need him to stabilize the contract.
I wanted him.
In every way.
And when I finally stilled, my body trembling, my breath ragged, he didn’t ask another question.
He just kissed me.
Hard. Deep. Claiming.
My mouth opened under his, my tongue meeting his, my hands flying to his hair, pulling him closer. The bond flared—golden light wrapping around us, binding us, consuming us.
His hand slid between my thighs, finding me slick, hot, ready. He pressed two fingers inside, and I moaned into his mouth, my hips lifting, my core clenching around him.
“Say it again,” he growled against my lips. “Say you want me.”
I didn’t answer.
Just arched into his hand, my body screaming what my mouth wouldn’t.
So he gave me no choice.
He withdrew, then pressed the head of his cock to my entrance.
I gasped.
My eyes flew open.
“Say it,” he demanded. “Or I walk away. Right now.”
I stared at him—my pupils blown, my lips swollen, my body trembling.
And then—
“I want you,” I whispered.
And he thrust.
Deep. Hard. Complete.
I cried out, my back arching, my nails raking down his back. My core clamped around him, hot and tight and perfect. The bond screamed—golden light exploding between us, magic crackling, the witch-fire orbs roaring.
He didn’t move.
Just stayed buried inside me, our bodies fused, our breaths tangled, our hearts pounding as one.
“You feel that?” I murmured, my mouth at his ear. “That’s not just the bond. That’s us.”
He didn’t answer.
Just wrapped his arms around me and pulled.
And I fucked him.
Hard. Fast. Feral.
Every thrust drove the truth deeper—into my body, into my soul, into the bond. He met me, his hips lifting, his hands gripping my ass, his mouth at my neck, bite. Not to hurt. To claim.
And when I came again—screaming his name, my body convulsing around him—he didn’t hold back.
I came with him.
Hot. Thick. Mine.
I collapsed on top of him, my face buried in his neck, my breath ragged, my body still inside his. The bond hummed—warm, steady, satisfied. The sigils on my wrist dimmed, the golden light fading to a soft glow.
He didn’t push me away.
Didn’t speak.
Just lay there, his hands resting on my back, his breath slow, his body soft.
And then—
I whispered, so quiet I almost didn’t hear it:
“I hate you.”
He lifted his head, looking down at me.
My eyes were closed. My lips were curved—just slightly.
And he smiled.
Because he knew the truth.
I didn’t.
Not anymore.
And neither did he.