The storm hit just as we crossed the Veil.
One moment, the world was still—silent, suspended beneath a bruised twilight sky, the boundary between vampire territory and the Fae Wilds marked only by a ring of standing stones slick with moss and ancient runes. The next, wind howled like a banshee, tearing through the trees, snapping branches, whipping rain sideways in stinging sheets. Thunder cracked, not from above, but from *within* the earth—a deep, guttural roar that shook the ground beneath my boots.
“We should turn back,” I shouted over the gale, gripping the strap of my satchel, the weight of the stolen Fae relic pressing against my ribs. It was small—a silver locket no bigger than a walnut, etched with the sigil of the Winter Court—but it pulsed with a cold, rhythmic energy, like a frozen heartbeat. The Council had sent us to retrieve it. A test, they said. A chance to prove our alliance. But I knew better. This was a trap. A trial by fire.
Kaelen didn’t answer. He stood at the edge of the stone circle, his black coat flaring behind him like the wings of some great carrion bird, his face lifted to the storm. Rain slicked his hair, darkened the fabric of his shirt, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. His red eyes glowed faintly in the gloom, scanning the trees ahead—twisted oaks with bark like cracked bone, their branches clawing at the sky.
“It’s not natural,” I said, stepping closer. “The storm. The way the ground shook. This place is cursed.”
He turned to me, slow, deliberate. “It is. The forest is a threshold. A place where magic bleeds. The Fae don’t like intruders. Especially not vampires. And especially not ones bound to a human.”
“Then why didn’t the Council warn us?”
“Because they wanted to see if we’d survive.”
I clenched my jaw. Of course. Another test. Another way to break us. The bond between us was still raw, still pulsing beneath my skin like a second pulse, but it had been quiet since the library—since he’d walked away, since I’d called him a coward. Since I’d kissed him like I wanted to devour him.
I hadn’t forgiven him. Not for stopping. Not for thinking he knew what was best for me. But I hadn’t forgotten it either. The heat of his mouth. The strength of his hands. The way my body had arched into his, begging for more.
And now we were here. Stranded. Alone. With only each other.
“We can’t stay in the open,” he said, turning back to the trees. “The storm will worsen. The forest will turn on us.”
“And if we go in there?”
“We die slower.”
I almost laughed. “Comforting.”
He glanced at me—just a flicker of red in the dark—and for a second, I thought I saw the ghost of a smile. Then it was gone. “Stay close. And don’t touch anything.”
He stepped into the forest.
I followed.
The moment we passed beneath the canopy, the world changed. The rain lessened, but the air grew heavier, thick with the scent of damp earth and something else—something sweet and rotten, like overripe fruit left to ferment. The trees loomed, their trunks gnarled, their roots rising from the ground like the bones of buried giants. Vines hung like nooses, swaying in a wind I couldn’t feel. And the silence—
It wasn’t silence.
It was *listening*.
My skin prickled. The bond flared—not with heat, but with unease. A low, warning hum beneath my ribs. I reached for the dagger at my belt, my fingers brushing the hilt. The one with Cassia’s mark. The one with the blood Lirien claimed was hers.
I hadn’t tested it. Not yet. I’d kept it sealed, untouched. But now, in this place, I wondered—had she been telling the truth? Or was the dagger another lie, another thread in the web someone was weaving around us?
“Don’t draw it,” Kaelen said, not looking back. “Weapons anger the forest. It thinks you’re a threat.”
“And walking through it doesn’t?”
“We’re not here to fight. We’re here to survive.”
“And the relic?”
“Is making it worse.”
I froze. “What?”
He stopped, turning slowly. Rain dripped from his hair, his lashes, his lips. His eyes burned into mine. “The locket. It’s attuned to Fae magic. This forest is Fae-touched. It knows the relic is here. And it knows it doesn’t belong.”
My stomach dropped. “You’re saying the storm, the shaking ground—it’s because of *this*?” I pulled the locket from my satchel, holding it up. It pulsed in my palm, cold and insistent.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know until now.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “But now I do. And if we don’t get out of here soon, this forest will tear us apart.”
“Then let’s go back.”
“Too late.” He pointed behind me.
I turned.
The stone circle was gone. The path we’d taken—vanished. The trees had shifted, their roots rising, their branches twisting, sealing us in. The forest had closed behind us.
“It’s alive,” I whispered.
“It’s *hungry*,” he said. “And it thinks you’re the key.”
My breath came faster. The bond flared again—hotter this time, sharper. Not fear. Not yet. *Need*. A slow, insistent pull in my gut, a pulse between my thighs. I clenched my legs together, trying to ignore it.
“The bond,” I said, voice tight. “It’s getting stronger.”
Kaelen didn’t answer. He was watching me—his nostrils flared, his gaze dropping to my lips, then lower, to where my pulse beat in my throat. His fangs ached. I could see it—the slight tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curled into fists at his sides.
“It’s the forest,” he said, voice rough. “Places like this… they amplify magic. Emotion. Desire.”
“So we’re stuck in a cursed wood, hunted by trees, and our bond is about to go feral?”
“Essentially.”
“Fantastic.”
A crack split the air—not thunder. A branch. I spun, drawing my dagger despite his warning. A thick vine lashed out from the shadows, black and slick, coiling toward my ankle. I slashed, severing it. The stump writhed, oozing a thick, dark sap.
“I said don’t use it!” Kaelen snapped, grabbing my wrist, yanking me back. “You’re making it worse!”
“It was going to grab me!”
“And now it knows you’re afraid.” He pulled me close, shielding me with his body. More vines lashed out—from the left, the right, above. He moved fast, a blur of shadow and strength, tearing them apart with his bare hands, snapping them like dry twigs. Blood welled on his palms, dark and thick, but he didn’t stop.
And then—silence.
The vines retreated. The forest stilled. The only sound was our breathing, ragged, too loud in the dark.
“They’ll be back,” he said, not letting go of my wrist. “But they won’t attack if you’re not a threat.”
“So what do we do?”
“We find shelter. Wait out the storm. The bond will calm. The forest will lose interest.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
He looked down at me, his red eyes burning. “Then we fight. Together.”
I searched his face—hard planes, sharp angles, the faint scar above his brow. He looked exhausted. Not physically. But emotionally. Like the weight of everything—the bond, the lies, the war—was pressing down on him.
And yet, he was still here. Still protecting me.
Even now.
“You really did try to save her, didn’t you?” I whispered.
He stilled. “Yes.”
“And you kept the locket… because she asked you to?”
“Because she made me promise. To remember her. To protect you.”
My throat tightened. “And the night she died?”
“She was afraid,” he said, voice raw. “But not for herself. For you. She said, *‘If I don’t make it, promise me you’ll keep her safe. Promise me you won’t let them break her.’* And I promised.”
Tears pricked my eyes. Not from sadness. From rage. From the sheer, *injustice* of it all. She’d known. She’d known she was going to die. And her last thought had been of *me*.
And Kaelen—he’d carried that promise. Alone. In silence. For five years.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“Because you wouldn’t have believed me.”
“And now?”
“Now?” He looked at me, really looked at me. “Now I don’t care if you believe me. I just care that you’re alive.”
The bond flared—hot, deep, a wave of emotion that wasn’t mine. Grief. Guilt. *Need*.
And then—
A low groan split the air. The ground trembled. The trees shifted, their roots rising, their branches twisting, forming a crude archway ahead.
“There,” Kaelen said, pulling me forward. “Shelter.”
It wasn’t a cave. Not a ruin. Just a hollow beneath the roots of a massive oak, its interior dry, its walls lined with moss. A nest. A den. Safe.
We stepped inside.
The moment we did, the forest went still. The wind died. The rain lessened to a whisper. The locket in my satchel stopped pulsing.
“It’s watching,” I said, sitting against the wall, pulling my knees to my chest. “Waiting.”
Kaelen crouched at the entrance, his back to me, his shoulders tense. “It won’t attack while we’re here. This place is neutral ground.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
I almost laughed. “Comforting.”
He turned, just slightly, his profile sharp in the dim light. “You say that a lot.”
“Because you keep saying things that aren’t.”
He didn’t answer. Just sat beside me, not too close, not too far. The bond hummed between us—steady, insistent. The air was thick, warm, charged. My skin was too sensitive. My body too aware of his.
And then—
Rain dripped from his hair, sliding down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. I watched it, mesmerized. My fingers twitched. I wanted to reach out. To wipe it away. To touch him.
“You’re staring,” he said, voice low.
“You’re dripping.”
He turned his head, his red eyes meeting mine. “Then fix it.”
My breath caught.
Slowly, I reached out. My fingers brushed his cheek, then his jaw, then the damp skin of his neck. He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just watched me, his breath slow, controlled.
And then—
My thumb brushed his lower lip.
He inhaled sharply.
The bond *screamed*.
Heat. Pressure. A pulse between my legs, sudden and deep. My nipples tightened. My breath came in short, desperate gasps. The world blurred. All I could see was *him*.
His scent flooded my senses—dark earth, frost, bloodied roses. His presence pressed against my mind, not invading, but *unfolding*. A whisper. A breath. A hand sliding down my spine.
“Athena,” he murmured, voice rough.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My body was betraying me—heat pooling low, breath coming too fast, skin too sensitive.
And then—
He moved.
One hand found my waist, pulling me closer, until I was straddling his lap, my thighs bracketing his hips. The other hand tangled in my hair, tilting my face up.
“Look at me,” he said.
I did.
His eyes were molten gold now, the red receding, replaced by something fiercer, hungrier. His fangs glinted, just visible behind his lips.
“This isn’t about the bond,” he said, voice low, rough. “This is about *you*. About *me*. About what we’ve been fighting since the beginning.”
“Then stop fighting,” I whispered.
And then I kissed him.
It wasn’t fire this time. Not teeth and desperation. It was *hunger*. Slow. Deep. Devouring. His mouth was warm, alive, *needing*. He groaned, his arms locking around me, pulling me closer, until there was no space between us. The bond *screamed*—a live wire, a pulse of heat and need. I could feel his thoughts, not in words, but in sensation: closer, more, now.
His hands slid down my back, under the curve of my ass, lifting me slightly, pressing me against the hard length of him. I gasped, my hips grinding down, seeking friction. He growled, his mouth trailing down my jaw, to the pulse point at my throat. I arched, offering myself.
“Kaelen—”
“Tell me to stop,” he said, his fangs grazing my skin. “Or I won’t.”
I didn’t answer.
I arched my neck, offering myself.
And gods help me, he wanted to take her.
He wanted to bite. To mark. To claim her in front of every book, every secret, every lie this library held.
But then—
He saw it.
In the reflection of the glass-fronted cabinet across from us—her face. Not just desire. Not just need.
Fear.
Not of me.
Of herself.
Of what she was becoming. Of what I was making her feel.
And that—
That was the line.
I pulled back.
Not far. Just enough to break the contact. My hand still in her hair. My body still pressed to hers. My breath ragged.
“No,” I said, voice raw. “Not like this.”
She blinked, dazed. “What?”
“I won’t take you like this. Not with the bond screaming in your blood. Not with your mind torn between vengeance and desire. Not when you don’t know if you want me—or if you just want to destroy me.”
Her eyes darkened. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I do,” I said. “Because if I take you now, it won’t be you choosing me. It’ll be the magic. And I want you. Not a spell. Not a bond. You.”
She stared at me. Then—anger. Hot, fierce, beautiful.
“You’re a coward,” she spat. “You don’t get to touch me and then walk away like some noble martyr. You don’t get to—”
“I don’t want to walk away,” I said, cutting her off. “I want to stay. I want to fight for you. I want to earn you. But not like this. Not when the bond is forcing us.”
She shoved me—hard. I let her. Stepped back, giving her space. Her chest heaved. Her eyes burned.
“You hate me,” she said.
“You don’t,” I said. “You hate that you want me.”
She didn’t answer. Just stormed down the aisle, her footsteps echoing in the silence.
I didn’t follow.
I stayed there, my back against the shelves, my breath slow, my fangs still aching, my body still thrumming with need.
But my mind—
My mind was clear.
Because for the first time since the bond ignited, I hadn’t let it control me.
I had chosen.
And I had chosen *her*.
Not the magic.
Not the fate.
Her.
And if that made me a fool—
Then so be it.
Let the world burn.
Let the bond rage.
I would wait.
Even if it killed me.
Even if she never believed me.
Even if she never stopped hating me.
I would wait.
Because Athena wasn’t just my fated mate.
She was my redemption.
And I would not claim her until she chose me back.
The library fell silent again.
The dust settled.
And somewhere, deep in the shadows, a single candle flickered out.
But the fire between us?
That was just beginning.