The fire in Kaelen’s chambers burned low, casting long shadows across the stone walls like grasping fingers. I stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, spine rigid, refusing to let my gaze flicker toward the massive four-poster bed draped in black silk. The air still smelled of him—cedar and frost and that dark, ancient thing beneath it all—and it made my skin prickle with unwanted awareness.
He hadn’t touched me since we entered. Hadn’t tried to force me to sit, to speak, to obey. He simply stood by the hearth, one hand resting on the mantel, golden eyes watching me like I was a blade poised at his throat.
Maybe I was.
“You expect me to sleep here?” I asked, voice sharp. “In your bed? With you?”
“No,” he said. “There are two chambers. This is the sitting room. Yours is through there.” He nodded toward a heavy oak door to the left. “You’ll find everything you need.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And where will you be?”
“In the room beyond the study,” he said. “We share a suite, not a bedroom. Not yet.”
That word—*yet*—hung in the air like a threat. Or a promise.
I didn’t answer. I turned and walked toward the door, boots clicking against the stone. I didn’t look back. Didn’t let him see the way my pulse jumped when the bond between us pulsed, warm and insistent, like a second heartbeat.
The moment I stepped into my room, I exhaled.
It was smaller than his, but still opulent—dark wood floors, a canopied bed with silver-threaded linens, a writing desk carved with vampire sigils. A wardrobe stood against the wall, already filled with gowns in deep jewel tones. Mine, I assumed. Gifts from the husband I didn’t want.
I locked the door behind me and pressed my back against it, closing my eyes.
Think. Breathe. Assess.
The Fanged Contract bound us for one year—unless one of us killed the other. That was the only way out. So my mission hadn’t changed. I still had to destroy Kaelen Duskbane. But now, I had to do it from inside his home. From inside his bed, if the Council demanded it.
I opened my eyes and moved to the wardrobe, fingers brushing the fabric of a midnight-blue gown. Silk. Expensive. Designed to cling.
They wanted me to play the part of the obedient wife. To smile, to stand beside him, to pretend this bond was real.
Let them think that.
I could play a role. I’d been doing it for years.
I stripped off my travel-stained dress and reached for the bathing chamber. Steam curled from the open doorway, rising from a sunken marble tub. Someone had already drawn a bath—rose oil floating on the surface, petals scattered like blood.
I stepped in, sinking into the heat, letting it loosen the tension in my shoulders. My wrist throbbed faintly where he’d bitten me. The skin was healed, but the memory wasn’t. The fire in my veins. The way my body had arched toward him, betraying me. The vision—a child laughing, a woman’s voice, then darkness, blood, his voice broken—“I couldn’t save her.”
I clenched my jaw.
Lies. Manipulation. The bond was twisting my mind, my memories, my desires. It wanted me to believe him. To trust him.
I wouldn’t.
I washed quickly, scrubbed the scent of rose oil from my skin, then wrapped myself in a black silk robe. I didn’t bother with the gowns. I pulled on my underthings and the dress I’d worn to the ritual—simple, practical, armor in its own way.
When I stepped back into the sitting room, Kaelen was gone.
The fire had been stoked. A tray of food sat on the low table—blood-red wine, dark bread, smoked meat. Vampire fare. I ignored it. I didn’t trust anything in this place.
I moved to the window and looked out.
Below, the Obsidian Court sprawled like a living thing—tunnels carved into the volcanic rock, bridges of black stone, towers rising into the darkness. No sky. No stars. Just the faint glow of enchanted lanterns and the pulse of the obsidian veins in the walls. This was a world beneath a world. A kingdom of shadows.
And I was trapped in it.
Footsteps echoed behind me.
I didn’t turn.
“You should eat,” Kaelen said.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re lying.”
I finally turned. He stood a few feet away, still in his black velvet coat, but the silver chainmail was gone. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, revealing strong forearms, veins like cords beneath pale skin. He looked less like a lord and more like a warrior. Dangerous. Real.
And still, my body responded.
Stupid. Weak. Human.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Why pretend to care?”
“I’m not pretending.”
“You bit me. In front of everyone. You claimed me like I was property.”
“I had no choice.” His voice was low, controlled. “The bond would have torn us apart if it wasn’t sealed. You would have collapsed. Screamed. The pain would have been unbearable.”
“And you care about my pain?” I laughed, bitter. “You killed my mother. You don’t get to play the hero.”
His eyes flashed gold. “I didn’t kill her. Veylan did. He wanted her power. Her bloodline. And he used me to take it.”
“Prove it.”
“I will. But not tonight. The Council is watching. They’ll demand the bond be consummated within seven days. If we don’t, they’ll exile you. Strip you of your name. You’ll be hunted.”
My stomach twisted.
“And if we do?”
“Then the bond stabilizes. The magic recognizes the union. You’re safe. For now.”
“Safe?” I stepped closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “You think I want safety? I want justice. I want revenge.”
“And you’ll get it,” he said. “But not if you’re dead.”
We stared at each other, the air between us charged, thick with something I couldn’t name. Not hate. Not yet. Something darker. Deeper.
Then he reached out.
His hand brushed my shoulder, guiding me gently toward the door. “Come. I’ll show you to the archives. You want proof? Start there.”
His touch—light, almost respectful—sent a jolt through me.
Fire. Heat. Need.
I gasped, stumbling back, my breath coming fast.
His hand froze.
His eyes burned.
“What—what was that?” I demanded, heart pounding.
“The bond,” he said, voice rough. “It reacts to touch. To proximity. The closer we are, the stronger it becomes.”
“It’s not real,” I said, backing away. “It’s magic. Lies.”
“Is it?” He stepped forward, slow, deliberate. “Then why does your pulse race when I’m near? Why does your skin flush? Why does your body—” He stopped, eyes dropping to my chest, where my breath heaved beneath the fabric. “—betray you?”
I slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room like a whip.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just stood there, his cheek marked with red, his gaze locked on mine.
“Hit me again,” he said, voice low. “I dare you.”
My hand trembled. I wanted to. Wanted to claw at his face, to make him bleed, to make him hurt the way I did.
But I didn’t.
Because I was afraid.
Afraid of what would happen if I touched him again.
Afraid of what I might want.
I turned and walked to my room, my steps steady, my spine straight.
“Lock the door if you want,” he said behind me. “It won’t keep me out.”
I froze.
“The shadows obey me, Elara. I can walk through them. Appear anywhere. You can’t hide from me.”
I didn’t answer. I closed the door. Locked it.
Then I leaned against it, sliding down until I was on the floor, my arms wrapped around my knees.
My skin still burned where he’d touched me.
My core ached.
And worst of all—I didn’t hate him.
Not completely.
Because for the first time in sixteen years, someone had looked at me and not seen a weapon.
They’d seen a woman.
And it terrified me.
I stayed on the floor for hours, listening to the silence, to the distant hum of the court, to the slow, steady beat of the bond between us.
Eventually, I slept.
I woke to sunlight.
Not real sunlight—there was no sun down here—but a soft, artificial glow filtering through the enchanted glass in the window. Morning in the Obsidian Court.
I rose, washed, dressed in a deep green gown that hugged my curves, then braided my hair tight against my skull. Armor. Again.
When I stepped into the sitting room, Kaelen was gone.
A note lay on the table, written in sharp, angular script.
“Council meeting. Stay in the suite. Cassian will escort you to the archives at noon. —K”
I crumpled the note.
He was already giving orders. Acting like I was his.
Well, let him think that.
I had my own plans.
I waited until the hour was near, then left the suite, ignoring the note, ignoring his command. I didn’t need an escort. I knew the way to the archives. I’d studied the blueprints.
The halls were quiet, the vampires still in their chambers, recovering from the night. I moved swiftly, silently, my boots making no sound on the stone.
But I wasn’t alone.
At the end of the corridor, a man leaned against the wall—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in leather and steel. A werewolf. His amber eyes tracked me as I approached.
Cassian Vale. Kaelen’s Beta. The one who was supposed to escort me.
“Lady Duskbane,” he said, pushing off the wall. “You’re not supposed to be here alone.”
“I’m not *Lady Duskbane*,” I snapped. “And I don’t need a babysitter.”
He smirked. “He said you’d say that.”
“Who?”
“Kaelen. He knew you’d ignore the note.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Then why send it?”
“To see what you’d do.” He fell into step beside me. “You’re testing him. He’s testing you.”
I didn’t answer.
We walked in silence until we reached the archives—a massive chamber lined with ancient tomes, scrolls, and blood-locked vaults. The air smelled of parchment and iron.
“The vaults require blood to open,” Cassian said. “Most are keyed to noble lines.”
My breath caught.
“And the Shadowline vault?”
He glanced at me. “Empty. Or so they say.”
“Take me to it.”
He hesitated, then led me to the back of the room, where a small, unmarked door stood recessed into the wall. No name. No sigil. Just a keyhole shaped like a fang.
“Only Shadowline blood can open it,” he said.
My pulse quickened.
I stepped forward, pricked my finger, and pressed it to the lock.
Nothing happened.
Then—
A whisper, faint, like wind through stone.
“Only Shadowline may enter.”
My breath froze.
It had recognized me.
But the door didn’t open.
“Try again,” Cassian said, voice low.
I did.
Same result.
Then a hand closed over mine.
I turned.
Kaelen stood behind me, his golden eyes blazing.
“Let me,” he said.
He pressed his thumb to the lock.
The door clicked open.
Inside—dust. Darkness. And a single, bloodstained journal lying on a pedestal.
My mother’s journal.
My hands trembled as I reached for it.
But Kaelen caught my wrist.
“Be careful,” he said, voice rough. “Some truths are heavier than others.”
I pulled free.
And opened the book.
The first page read:
“If you’re reading this, Elara, I’m already dead. And Kaelen is the only one who can protect you.”
My breath stopped.
Behind me, Kaelen whispered, “I told you. I didn’t kill her.”
And for the first time—I believed him.