The peace didn’t last.
It never does.
One moment, I was tangled in Kaelen’s arms, his breath warm against my neck, his cock still buried deep inside me, the bond pulsing between us like a second heartbeat—steady, strong, ours. The next, the alarm bells were ringing.
Not the soft chime of a Council summons.
Not the distant echo of a war horn.
The full-blooded, bone-deep scream of a fortress under siege.
Kaelen was off me in an instant—vampire speed, shadows writhing around him as he dressed, coat fastened, fangs bared, eyes crimson with rage. I didn’t need to ask. Didn’t need to speak. Just moved—rolling off the obsidian table, grabbing my boots, lacing them tight, tunic pulled over my still-damp skin. My body ached in the sweetest way, but the fight had already begun.
“Malrik’s alive,” Kaelen said, voice low, dangerous. “And he’s coming for the Keep.”
My breath caught. “Impossible. You killed him.”
“I thought so.” He turned to me, those crimson eyes dark with something I couldn’t name. Not fear. Not doubt. *Guilt.* “But he’s not alone. He’s gathered the remnants of his faction. The Ironfangs. The rogue Fae. Even some of my own—those who still believe the Oath should enslave, not free.”
“And they’re coming now?”
“Now.” He stepped closer, one hand moving to my hip, pressing down over the sigil. It didn’t burn. Just warmed, like it was alive, like it was ready. “You don’t have to fight.”
I didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. Just looked at him, those dark eyes seeing too much. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
He didn’t argue. Just nodded. “Then stay close. And don’t die.”
“You first,” I said, grabbing my dagger from the sheath hidden beneath the mattress. The blade was cold, familiar, etched with runes of disruption. My mother’s weapon. My mother’s legacy. Not for killing. Not for revenge. For justice.
We moved through the Keep in silence, boots soft on the stone, the alarm still screaming through the halls. The air was thick with the scent of iron, fear, and something sharper—magic. Old magic. Dark magic. The kind that tasted like blood and betrayal.
And then—
The bond flared.
Not pain.
Not need.
Warning.
I stopped, hand pressing to my hip, breath catching. “He’s here,” I whispered. “Malrik. He’s already inside.”
Kaelen didn’t hesitate. Just grabbed my wrist, pulling me forward, shadows curling around us like a second skin. “Then we end this.”
We emerged in the main courtyard—a vast, open space of black stone, ringed by towering spires, the sky above dark with storm clouds. The gates were breached—iron bars twisted, enchanted locks shattered. And inside—
Chaos.
Vampires clashed with werewolves, fangs bared, claws out. Fae danced through the air, glamours flashing, daggers dripping with poison. Blood stained the stone, thick and dark, pooling in the cracks. Screams echoed—human, vampire, Fae—all the same in death.
And at the center—
Malrik.
He stood like a storm, silver eyes gleaming, coat torn, blood streaking his face. In his hand—
The Bloodstone.
Not the original. Not the one in the chamber. But a shard—cracked, pulsing with crimson light, its surface etched with the old runes of the Oath. The binding clause. The seal. The lie.
And he was chanting.
Low, guttural words, ancient, twisted. The air thickened. The ground trembled. The bond—
It screamed.
Not with pleasure. Not with need.
With corruption.
“He’s trying to rewrite the Oath,” I said, voice raw. “To twist it back. To enslave us all.”
“Then we stop him,” Kaelen said, fangs bared. “Together.”
I didn’t answer. Just moved—dagger in hand, body low, weaving through the battle. A vampire lunged at me—fangs bared, eyes crimson. I didn’t flinch. Just slashed, the blade cutting through his throat, blood spraying the stone. He fell, gurgling, eyes wide.
Another came—this one a werewolf, massive, fangs bared. I ducked, twisted, drove the dagger into his ribs. He howled, stumbling back, but I didn’t let him recover. I kicked his legs out, dropped him to his knees, and slit his throat in one clean motion.
And then—
Malrik saw me.
His silver eyes locked onto mine, and he smiled—slow, sharp, *knowing*. “River,” he said, voice smooth, dangerous. “You should’ve stayed dead.”
“You first,” I said, stepping forward, dagger raised.
He didn’t move. Just held up the Bloodstone shard, its light pulsing, the runes flaring crimson. “You think you’ve won? You think rewriting the Oath changes anything? The blood still calls. The magic still binds. And you—” his voice dropped to a whisper—“you’ll always belong to *him*.”
“I belong to no one,” I said, voice low. “Not you. Not him. Not the Oath.”
“Then why do you fight for him?” he demanded, stepping closer, the Bloodstone pulsing in his hand. “Why do you bleed for him? Why do you *burn* for him?”
“Because I choose to,” I said, stepping closer, not backing down. “Because he’s not what you are. He’s not a monster. He’s not a king who feeds on fear. He’s a man who loves me. Who *sees* me.”
“And you?” he sneered. “You’re just a weapon. A hybrid. A saboteur. And when this is over—” he tilted his head, smile sharp as a blade—“you’ll be nothing but ash.”
The bond flared—hot, sharp, *painful*.
But I didn’t flinch.
Just lunged.
Dagger flashing, I drove it toward his heart—but he was fast, twisting, avoiding the strike, slashing with the Bloodstone. The edge grazed my arm, burning like fire. I gasped, stumbling back, but didn’t fall.
He came at me again, fast, brutal, relentless. I blocked with my dagger, but he was stronger, faster. He knocked it from my hand, sent it skittering across the stone.
I was unarmed.
And he knew it.
He lunged, the Bloodstone aimed at my chest.
I didn’t dodge.
I *charged*.
Shoulder first, I slammed into him, driving him back. He snarled, slashing, but I held on, one hand gripping his wrist, the other driving my elbow into his throat. He gagged, staggering, but I didn’t let go. I twisted, using his momentum, throwing him over my shoulder.
He hit the ground hard. The Bloodstone skittered away.
I didn’t go for it.
I went for *him*.
I dropped on top of him, fists flying, teeth bared. He fought back—claws raking my face, fangs biting my shoulder—but I didn’t stop. I hit him—again and again—my knuckles splitting, blood streaking his face.
“You don’t get to do this!” I roared, voice cracking. “You don’t get to twist the Oath! You don’t get to enslave my bloodline!”
He didn’t answer. Just fought, eyes wild, fangs bared.
And then—
A presence.
Dark. Quiet. Inevitable.
I didn’t turn. Just felt him—the bond flaring, heat rushing through me, my pulse jumping in my throat.
Kaelen.
He stood at the edge of the courtyard, coat unbuttoned, fangs bared, eyes crimson with rage. He didn’t look at Malrik. Didn’t speak to him. Just watched me, like I was something *precious*, not prey.
“River,” he said, voice low.
I didn’t answer. Just kept fighting, fists flying, blood on my hands.
Malrik twisted, breaking free, scrambling back. He reached for the Bloodstone.
I lunged.
But not for him.
For *the shard*.
I moved fast—faster than I thought possible—throwing myself toward the Bloodstone, fingers closing around the cracked surface. It burned—white-hot, searing—but I didn’t let go. I could feel the magic, the old runes, the lie, the corruption.
And then—
Malrik was on me.
He grabbed me—fast, brutal, *desperate*—one hand in my hair, the other at my throat, slamming me back against the stone. I gasped, vision blurring, but didn’t let go of the shard.
“You’re weak,” he snarled, voice raw. “You hesitate. You *feel*.”
“And you don’t?” I demanded, voice breaking. “You don’t feel anything? No love? No loyalty? No *honor*?”
“Honor is a weakness,” he spat. “And love? Love is a lie.”
“Then why do you hate him so much?” I said, voice shaking. “Why do you want the Oath so badly? Why do you *burn* for power?”
He didn’t answer. Just tightened his grip, fangs bared, eyes blazing.
And then—
The bond screamed.
Not from me.
From *him*.
Kaelen.
He moved then—fast, silent, deadly. A blur of motion. Shadows writhing around him, fangs bared, claws out. Malrik turned, tried to fight, but it was over before it began.
A snarl.
A scream.
A flash of silver.
And then—
Silence.
Malrik’s body hit the stone, throat torn, eyes wide, blood pooling beneath him.
Kaelen didn’t look at him.
He looked at *me*.
And for the first time since I’d known him, I saw something in his eyes that wasn’t cold. Wasn’t cruel. Wasn’t calculating.
*Relief*.
He crossed the courtyard in three strides, catching me as I fell. I hit the ground hard, but he held me, one arm under my shoulders, the other pressing against the wound on my arm. Blood seeped between his fingers, warm, sticky.
“River,” he said, voice raw. “No. *No*.”
I tried to speak, but pain filled my chest. I coughed, wincing, but managed a weak smile. “Told you… I’d never seen you hesitate… until her.”
His breath caught.
“I’m not dying,” I said, voice breaking. “Not without you.”
He didn’t answer. Just pulled me against his chest, cradling me like I weighed nothing, like I was something precious, not prey. His breath was hot against my neck, his fangs grazing my skin, not to bite, not to claim—just to *feel*.
And the bond—
It pulsed, steady, strong.
Like a heartbeat not my own.
Like a promise.
Like a vow.
The courtyard was quiet now—no screams, no battle, just the distant echo of thunder, the scent of rain on the wind. The remnants of Malrik’s faction were gone—fled, or dead. The Keep was damaged, but standing. The Oath was rewritten. The bond was ours.
And we were alive.
“You’re not what I expected,” I said, voice low.
He didn’t look at me. Just pressed his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my skin. “Neither are you.”
“I came here to destroy you.”
“And now?”
I didn’t answer. Just stared at him, those dark eyes seeing too much. “Now I don’t know what I want.”
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
Not hate.
Not fury.
But *doubt*.
And I knew—
If I doubted…
I might just survive this.
And if I survived—
I might just break him.
He stepped closer, until our bodies were nearly touching. His hand moved to my hip, over the sigil, pressing down, firm, unrelenting. The mark flared—hot, sharp—but it didn’t burn. Not really. It just… shifted. Like it knew.
Like it *recognized* me.
“Then let me show you,” he murmured, voice low. “Let me show you what it means to be mine.”
My breath caught.
And then—
I kissed him.
Not soft. Not slow.
Hard. Desperate. A clash of teeth and tongue and breath, a surge of heat so intense it stole my breath. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, my body arching into his, my core clenching, already slick, already *ready*.
He groaned, low and deep, his fangs grazing my lip. “Gods, you taste like *mine*.”
And then—
The world shifted.
The wind stilled. The sea calmed. The bond—
It *screamed*.
Not pain.
Pleasure.
A wave of energy so intense it tore through me, white-hot, electric, crashing through my veins, pooling between my legs, making me *climax*—right there, in his arms, in the courtyard, with the blood of our enemies staining the stone.
I cried out, my body arching, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
He held me, groaning, his breath hot against my skin. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Let go. Let me have you.”
And I did.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of the magic.
But because, for one terrible, shameful moment, I *wanted* it.
Wanted him.
Needed him.
And when it was over, when the wind returned, when the sea roared, when the bond settled into a quiet, insistent hum—
I was still in his arms.
Still breathing hard.
Still *his*.
He pulled back, just enough to look at me. His eyes were dark, his lips swollen, his breath uneven. “Better?” he asked, voice rough.
I didn’t answer. Just stared at him, those dark eyes seeing too much. “You’re not what I expected,” I said.
“Neither are you.”
He smiled—slow, dangerous. “Now imagine what it’ll be like when I’m *inside* you.”
My breath caught.
And the bond—
It *screamed* again.
I didn’t push him away.
Didn’t walk out.
Just stayed in his arms, my body still trembling, my breath still unsteady.
And when he leaned in, when his lips hovered over mine, when his breath ghosted over my skin—
I didn’t say yes.
But my body arched into his.
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.