The silence in my study was heavier than stone.
Not the usual quiet of late night, when the Keep slept and the sea whispered against the cliffs. Not the stillness before a storm, or the hush after a battle. This was something deeper. A weight pressing down on the air, thick with unspoken truths and the scent of old blood.
And her.
River.
She stood across from me, arms crossed, spine straight, eyes dark with defiance. Her shoulder was healed—thanks to my blood, my mouth, my hands—but I could still feel the echo of the wound, the way her body had arched into mine when I licked the gash closed. The way she’d trembled when I fed her from my wrist. The way she’d kissed me in the Moonwell Chamber, hard and desperate, like she was trying to drown us both.
And now?
Now she looked at me like I was the enemy again.
Like she’d forgotten.
Like she could.
I hadn’t forgotten.
Every second of it was carved into my bones.
“You summoned me,” she said, voice cool. “So speak.”
I didn’t answer right away. Just turned from the window, where the storm had finally broken and the first light of dawn bled through the mist. My fingers traced the edge of the ancient ledger open on my desk—cracked leather, yellowed pages, ink faded to brown. It wasn’t just a record of bloodlines. It was a map of power. A history of betrayal. A tomb of secrets.
And tonight, it had given me one more.
“You lied to me,” I said, voice low.
She didn’t flinch. Just tilted her head, like she already knew what was coming. “About what?”
“Your name.”
“River Vale is my name.”
The Silence Sigil on her hip flared—just a whisper, a warning burn. I saw it. Felt it. The bond between us pulsed, sharp and sudden, like a blade twisting in my gut.
“Don’t,” I said. “Not with that. Not now.”
She pressed a hand to the mark, jaw clenched. “Then say what you want to say.”
I stepped closer, slow, deliberate. The bond flared—hot, insistent—pulling me toward her, even as I fought it. Her scent filled the air—wolf, witch, *need*—and for a heartbeat, I wanted to close the distance, to press her against the wall, to taste her again, to make her forget every lie she’d ever told.
But I couldn’t.
Not this time.
“You’re not River Vale,” I said, stopping just a breath away. “You’re River *Blackthorn*.”
Her breath caught.
Her eyes widened—just for a second—before she slammed the mask back down. “That’s not my name.”
The sigil burned again—brighter this time, searing. She gasped, doubling over, sweat breaking across her brow. Her fingers dug into her hip, her body trembling.
“You *are*,” I said, voice rough. “Daughter of Elara Blackthorn. Last heir of the Bloodbreaker. The witch who tried to destroy the Oath a century ago.”
She lifted her head, glaring. “My mother was a prisoner. A servant. Not some—”
“Not some *what*?” I cut in. “Not some traitor? Not some martyr? She was both. And she was *mine*.”
“She was *yours*?”
“She was my mate.”
The words hit her like a slap.
She stumbled back, hand flying to her chest, breath coming in sharp gasps. Her eyes were wide, wild, disbelieving. “That’s a lie.”
“Is it?” I stepped forward, closing the distance. “Ask the ledger. Ask the blood-memory. Ask the mark on your hip—it’s the same as hers. The same sigil. The same fire.”
She pressed a hand to the sigil, trembling. “You’re saying I’m—”
“You’re my fated mate,” I said. “Again.”
The room went silent.
Not just quiet. *Silent*. Like the world had stopped breathing. The fire in the hearth died. The wind outside stilled. Even the bond—God, the *bond*—it went still, like it was waiting for her to break.
And then—
“No.”
She shook her head, slow at first, then faster. “No. That’s impossible. My mother died trying to break the Oath. You killed her.”
“I didn’t.”
“You *did*.”
“I *didn’t*.” My voice cracked. “I loved her. I would have died for her. But she was framed. The Council—Virell, Malrik, the Fae Queen—they set her up. They made it look like she was sabotaging the Oath. They executed her before I could stop it.”
She stared at me. Not with hate. Not with fury. With something worse.
Doubt.
“You expect me to believe that?” she whispered.
“No,” I said. “I expect you to *know* it.” I reached for the ledger, flipped it open to a page marked with a blood-red ribbon. “Look.”
She didn’t move.
“Look,” I said again, softer this time.
Slowly, she stepped forward, eyes fixed on the page. The ink was faded, but the words were clear: *Elara Blackthorn, Bloodbreaker. Accused of sabotage. Executed under Order of the Council. Mate of Kaelen Duskbane, by fated bond. Status: Severed.*
And beneath it, a sketch—faint, but unmistakable. A woman with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, eyes like midnight. Her hand pressed to her hip, where a sigil burned.
Just like River’s.
Just like mine.
“She looked like you,” I said, voice rough. “Fought like you. Spoke like you. And when she died—” I swallowed, the memory like a knife in my chest—“I felt it. The bond tearing. The silence. The *nothing*.”
River stepped back, shaking her head. “This doesn’t prove anything. Forged records. Fake sketches. You could have—”
“I didn’t.” I reached into the inner pocket of my coat and pulled out a small, silver locket. It was old, tarnished, the chain broken. I pressed it into her hand. “This was hers. I kept it. I’ve carried it for a century. Open it.”
Her fingers trembled as she pried it open.
Inside was a tiny portrait—painted in delicate strokes, the colors still bright. A woman with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, eyes like midnight. And beside her, a child. A little girl with the same eyes, the same defiant set to her jaw.
Her.
Young. Alive. *Known*.
“She gave it to me the night before they took her,” I said. “Said if I ever found our daughter, I should give it to her. That you’d know it was real.”
Her breath came in shallow gasps. Her hands shook. The locket slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor. She didn’t pick it up. Just stared at me, eyes wide, face pale.
“You’re saying—”
“I’m saying you were never supposed to come here,” I said. “You were hidden. Protected. I thought you were dead. I thought *she’d* taken you with her.”
“She didn’t.”
“No. She sent you away. To survive. To be free.”
“And you let her die.”
“I *couldn’t* stop it.”
“You’re the king.”
“And I was powerless.” I stepped closer, my voice breaking. “I loved her. I would have burned the world for her. But they moved fast. Silent. The Council declared her guilty before I even knew she’d been arrested. By the time I reached the Bloodstone Chamber, it was over. She was gone. And the bond—” I pressed a hand to my chest, where the scar still ached—“it was severed. I felt her die. Felt her *leave*.”
She didn’t speak. Just stood there, trembling, tears in her eyes.
“And now you’re here,” I said. “Not River Vale. Not some saboteur. You’re River *Blackthorn*. My mate. Again. And you came to destroy me.”
Her breath hitched.
“You came to break the Oath,” I said. “And you will. But not like this. Not by killing me. Not by hating me.”
“You’re the reason she died,” she whispered.
“No,” I said. “The Council is. Virell. Malrik. The Fae Queen. They’re the ones who framed her. Who executed her. Who’ve kept the Oath alive through lies and blood.”
“And you?”
“I’ve spent a century trying to undo it. To find her killer. To free her bloodline. And now—” I reached out, slow, and brushed my thumb over her cheek, catching a tear—“I’ve found *you*.”
She flinched.
But she didn’t pull away.
“You don’t get to do this,” she said, voice shaking. “You don’t get to say you loved her. You don’t get to say you tried. You were the king. You could have saved her.”
“I *tried*,” I said, my voice breaking. “I screamed her name. I fought the guards. I tore through the Council chamber. But it was too late. The bond was severed. She was gone. And I—” I pressed a hand to my chest, where the emptiness still lived—“I was nothing.”
She stared at me. This vampire king, this predator, this *killer*—who had denied his nature, who had held her through the worst of it, who had refused to take what he could have.
And for the first time since she’d walked into Blackthorn Keep, she didn’t see a monster.
She saw a man.
And that terrified her more than any blade, any oath, any lie ever could.
“You’re not what I expected,” she said, voice raw.
“Neither are you.”
She looked down at her hands. “I came here to destroy you.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t know what I want.”
My breath caught.
Because that was the most dangerous thing of all.
Not hate.
Not fury.
But *doubt*.
And I knew—
If she doubted…
She might just survive this.
And if she survived—
She might just break me.
I reached out, slow, and brushed my thumb over her lower lip. “Then let me show you,” I said, voice low. “Let me show you what it means to be mine.”
She didn’t pull away.
Didn’t speak.
Just stayed still.
And when I leaned in, when my lips hovered over hers, when my breath ghosted over her skin—
She didn’t say no.
And that?
That was the most dangerous thing of all.
But I didn’t kiss her.
Not yet.
Because if I did—if I took that step, if I let the bond pull me under—I wouldn’t stop.
Not until she screamed my name.
Not until she begged.
Not until she *claimed* me back.
And I couldn’t.
Not when she was broken. Not when she was lost. Not when the world was watching, waiting for us to fall.
So I stepped back.
Just enough.
And I watched her.
As the truth settled in. As the pieces fell into place. As the mission she’d carried for a lifetime cracked and shifted, revealing something deeper. Something real.
She wasn’t here to destroy me.
She was here to finish what her mother started.
And I?
I wasn’t the monster.
I was the man who’d loved her mother.
The man who’d failed her.
And now—
The man who might just save her daughter.
“You should rest,” I said, voice rough.
“I’m not staying.”
“You are.”
“I’m not your prisoner.”
“You’re my mate.”
“And I’m not staying in your bed.”
“Then stay on the floor.”
She glared. But she didn’t argue. Just turned and walked to the door.
“River.”
She stopped, hand on the handle, but didn’t turn.
“The bond,” I said. “It’s stronger now. If you leave, it’ll flare. You’ll feel it—pain, weakness, *need*.”
She didn’t answer. Just opened the door and stepped into the hall.
I didn’t follow.
Just stood there, watching the empty space where she’d been, the locket still on the floor, the ledger still open to her mother’s name.
And for the first time in a century—
I felt hope.
Not for the Oath.
Not for the throne.
But for *her*.
For us.
Because if she could doubt…
She could believe.
And if she believed—
She might just love.
And if she loved—
She might just save me.
The door clicked shut.
And the silence returned.
But this time?
It wasn’t heavy.
It was alive.
With possibility.
With future.
With *her*.
And I knew—
No matter what came next.
No matter the lies, the blood, the centuries of hate.
I wouldn’t let her go.
Not again.
Not ever.
Fanged Vow: River’s Claim
The first time River touches Kaelen, it’s with a dagger at his throat.
Midnight. The Bloodstone Chamber. Candles gutter as the ancient oath swells in the air, and River—witch-blooded, wolf-touched, and utterly mortal—leaps from the shadows, blade aimed at the heart of the vampire king who murdered her mother. But the instant her fingers graze his skin, a white-hot bond sears through her spine, throwing her back, gasping. His crimson eyes flare. His fangs bare. And then—he smiles.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs, voice like smoke and sin, “even if you came to kill me.”
She didn’t come for love. She came to break the Duskbane Oath, a magical covenant that forces her bloodline to serve the vampire throne, body and soul. But now, the bond between them flares with every heartbeat, feeding on rage, grief, and something far more dangerous: need. The Council demands they stand together as allies to prevent war between the Fae and the Blood Courts. One lie becomes two. One forced touch becomes a shared bed during a blizzard. One night of heat becomes a scandal that ripples across realms.
But someone is watching. Someone who knows River’s true bloodline—and who wants her bond with Kaelen used, not broken. As political traps snap shut and old lovers reappear with fresh scars, River must choose: complete her mission and destroy the man she’s fated to, or surrender to a love that could cost her family’s freedom—and her life.
And Kaelen? He’s never wanted anything more than to own her. But for the first time, he fears he might lose her—and worse, deserve it.