The kiss didn’t end.
Not really.
Even after Kael pulled back, his thumb lingering on my lower lip like a brand, the taste of him—cold wine and something darker, something him—lingered in my mouth like a curse. My lips throbbed. My pulse hammered. The ring on my finger pulsed in time with it, a living thing fused to my skin, feeding off the heat between us.
The Hall of Mirrors erupted in applause, but all I heard was the roar of blood in my ears.
Smile, or they’ll know you want to kill me.
His voice had been low, meant only for me. A warning. A challenge. A vow.
I didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. Just stared into those obsidian eyes, searching for triumph, for cruelty, for the monster I’d sworn to destroy.
But all I saw was hunger.
And it terrified me.
Because I felt it too.
Not for him. Never for him. But for the power. For the way the bond surged when he touched me, like lightning meeting storm. For the way my magic, usually so tightly coiled, crackled just beneath the surface, begging to be unleashed. For the way my body—traitor that it was—responded to his proximity, to his voice, to the way his breath had ghosted over my neck before the kiss.
I was unraveling.
And I had to stop it.
“Charming display,” I said, stepping back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “But don’t think this changes anything.”
His lips curved—just slightly. “It changes everything.”
He turned to the High Queen, bowing. “The bond stands. The court has witnessed it.”
She raised a hand. “Let it be known—Prince Kael Valen and Tide of the Storm-Witch Line are formally recognized as betrothed under the Supernal Accord. May their union bring peace… or war.”
A ripple of unease passed through the hall. Even the Fae, masters of deception, couldn’t hide their tension. Peace was a fragile thing. And our bond? It wasn’t peace. It was a spark over dry tinder.
We moved through the reception like a single entity—his hand on my back, my arm in his, our steps in sync. Vampires bowed. Fae curtsied. Werewolves nodded in grim respect. All watching. All judging.
Lyra appeared like a shadow, her silver-blonde hair cascading over one shoulder, her gown the color of moonlight and poison. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Congratulations,” she said, voice like honey over glass. “I hear the bond is… unbreakable.”
“It is,” Kael said, his grip tightening on my waist. “And she bears my mark.”
Lyra’s smile faltered. “And yet, I still dream of your hands on me.”
“Then you’ll wake disappointed,” I said, stepping forward. “Because he’s mine. And he always will be.”
She laughed—soft, brittle. “We’ll see.”
And then she was gone.
I exhaled, my body trembling. Kael’s hand slid lower, his fingers pressing into the curve of my hip.
“You’re jealous,” he murmured.
“I’m not,” I lied.
“Prove it,” he said, pulling me closer. “Kiss me.”
“Here?”
“Here.”
And before I could argue, he kissed me again—slow, deep, possessive. The bond flared, warm and deep, a silent claim. My hands fisted in his robes, pulling him closer, my body arching into his.
And for the first time, I didn’t care who was watching.
Because maybe—just maybe—I was starting to believe it too.
Maybe I wasn’t here to destroy him.
Maybe I was here to save him.
And in saving him… save myself.
The thought terrified me more than any battle ever had.
Because if I let myself believe it…
I might never want to let go.
Then the music started.
A slow, haunting melody, played on silver strings and bone flutes, winding through the chamber like smoke. The High Queen raised her hand, and the floor shifted—panels sliding open, revealing a circular dais beneath the starless ceiling.
“The first dance,” she announced. “A tradition for betrothed couples. To seal the bond in motion.”
My stomach dropped.
“You’ve got to be joking,” I muttered.
Kael didn’t look at me. Just stepped forward, offering his hand. “It’s expected.”
“I don’t give a damn what’s expected.”
“Then give a damn about survival,” he said, voice low. “Refuse, and they’ll see it as rebellion. As weakness. As a crack in the bond.”
I glared at him. “You enjoy this, don’t you? Forcing me to play your little puppet.”
“I don’t enjoy anything about this,” he said. “But I will survive. And if you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”
The music swelled. The court watched. The dais waited.
I had no choice.
With a sharp exhale, I placed my hand in his.
His fingers closed around mine—cool, strong, unyielding. The bond flared, a jolt of heat shooting up my arm, settling low in my belly. I didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Not here. Not now.
He led me to the dais. The moment we stepped onto it, the floor glowed faintly, runes pulsing beneath our feet. A binding enchantment. A test.
He turned to face me, one hand sliding to the small of my back, the other holding mine. “Follow my lead,” he murmured. “And don’t fight the bond.”
“Or what?”
“Or it will fight you.”
The music shifted—slower, deeper, a rhythm that echoed the pulse of blood, the beat of a heart. He pulled me closer, our bodies aligning, his chest against mine, his breath cool on my neck. I stiffened, every instinct screaming to shove him away, to summon lightning and tear the floor apart.
But I didn’t.
Because he was right.
The bond reacted to emotion. To proximity. To arousal. And if I fought it, it would flare—uncontrollable, visible, dangerous.
So I let him lead.
One step. Then another. A slow, deliberate waltz, our movements in sync, our breaths matching. His hand on my back guided me, firm but not forceful. His presence—solid, unyielding—anchored me in a world that had just tilted off its axis.
And then—
The bond flared.
Not a surge. Not a spark.
A tsunami.
Fire ripped through my veins. Lightning crackled beneath my skin. My vision blurred. And then—
I was no longer in the hall.
I was in his mind.
Memories. Emotions. Sensations. All flooding into me like a river breaking its banks.
A boy—seventeen, pale, sharp-featured—standing in a dungeon cell, watching a woman with storm-gray eyes and wild black hair. My mother. Her wrists chained, her body broken, her magic suppressed. Kael reaching through the bars, offering her a vial of water. Her whispering, “Don’t help me. They’ll punish you.” Him saying, “I can’t let you suffer.” A guard dragging him away. The crack of a whip. His father’s voice, cold, cruel: “You will learn obedience, boy.”
I gasped, staggering—but he held me, his arm tightening around my back, his voice a low growl in my ear.
“Breathe,” he said. “Don’t fight it. Let it flow.”
I tried. Clenched my jaw, forced air into my lungs. The vision faded, but the bond remained—a live wire between our souls.
“Why did you show me that?” I whispered.
“I didn’t,” he said. “The bond did. It’s not just magic. It’s us. And it’s refusing to be controlled.”
I didn’t answer. Just let him lead, my body moving with his, my breath syncing with his. The music swirled around us, the court a blur of color and shadow. And then—
His hand slid lower.
Not much. Just an inch. But enough.
His fingers pressed into the curve of my hip, his thumb brushing the dip of my waist. Heat pooled low in my belly. My breath hitched. The bond flared again, warmer this time, deeper.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured.
“It’s the bond,” I said, voice tight.
“It’s not just the bond,” he said. “It’s you. It’s me. It’s the way your body betrays you when I touch you.”
“I hate you,” I whispered.
“Then why do you taste like mine?”
And before I could answer, he spun me.
One moment, I was in his arms. The next, I was whirling, the world a blur of light and shadow. He caught me on the return, pulling me flush against him, his body hard, his breath hot on my neck.
“You want me,” he growled.
“I want you dead,” I said, but my voice trembled.
“Prove it,” he said, his lips brushing my ear. “Kill me now. Here. With your magic. With your hands. With your teeth.”
I could have.
I had the strength. The magic. The hatred.
But I didn’t move.
And he knew it.
“You’re not going to kill me,” he said, his hand sliding up, his fingers tracing the line of my spine. “Because you feel it too. The bond. The pull. The way your body betrays you when I touch you.”
His other hand moved—slow, deliberate—sliding up my side, beneath the fabric of my gown, his fingers brushing the bare skin of my waist.
I gasped.
Not from fear.
From the heat of his touch. From the way my skin burned where he touched me. From the way my body arched into him, begging for more.
“You want me,” he growled.
“I hate you,” I whispered.
“Then why do you taste like mine?”
And before I could answer—
The music stopped.
Not gradually. Not with a final note.
Abruptly.
Like a blade cutting through silk.
The dais went dark. The runes dimmed. The court fell silent.
And then—
A rip.
Sharp. Sudden. Final.
I felt it before I saw it—a tear in the fabric of my gown, just below the shoulder, where the slashed sleeve met the bodice. The movement, the spin, the heat of his hand on my skin—it had been too much. The delicate silk gave way, peeling back like a wound.
And there it was.
The bite mark.
Fresh. Red. Swollen.
From the ritual. From the kiss. From the moment his fangs had grazed my skin and the bond had roared to life.
And now, the entire court could see it.
Gasps rippled through the hall. Whispers rose like smoke.
Did you see that?
She bears his mark.
They’ve consummated.
It’s real. The bond is real.
My breath caught.
I tried to cover it, to pull the fabric back, but it was too late. The damage was done. The secret was out.
And then—
Kael moved.
Not away. Not to hide it.
Toward.
His hand slid to my bare shoulder, his fingers brushing the mark, his touch possessive, deliberate. And then, slowly, he removed his outer coat—a heavy, black velvet garment lined with silver thread—and draped it over my shoulders.
Not to hide.
To claim.
His fingers lingered on my skin, warm despite the cold of his touch. The bond flared—hot, deep, undeniable. I shivered, not from cold, but from the way his breath ghosted over my neck, the way his voice curled around my spine.
“That mark is mine,” he said, voice a low growl only I could hear. “And I’ll make sure the world knows it.”
The High Queen stepped forward, her silver crown gleaming, her eyes sharp as daggers. “The bond is sealed in blood and flesh. There will be no further doubt.”
No one argued.
No one protested.
Even Lyra, watching from the shadows, looked away.
Kael turned to me, his hand still on my shoulder, his eyes dark, unreadable. “You’re not going to kill me,” he said again. “Not today.”
“No,” I whispered. “Not today.”
But tomorrow?
Tomorrow, I wasn’t so sure.
Because for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Back in the suite, the door clicked shut behind us, and I didn’t wait.
“You did that on purpose,” I said, yanking off the coat and hurling it against the hearth. “You knew the fabric was weak. You knew the spin would tear it.”
He didn’t flinch. Just watched me, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “I didn’t know.”
“Liar.”
“Believe what you want,” he said. “But the mark was already there. I just made sure they saw it.”
“You think this makes you stronger?” I spat. “You think parading me like some kind of trophy proves something?”
“I think it keeps you alive,” he said, stepping closer. “The court sees a united front. A bond that can’t be broken. And that means they won’t try to break it.”
“And if they had?”
“Then I’d kill them,” he said simply. “Anyone who tries to take you from me dies.”
My breath caught.
Not from fear.
From the way his voice dropped—low, rough, intimate.
From the way my body responded—heat pooling low in my belly, the bond flaring beneath my skin.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I whispered.
“I already did,” he said. “You’re mine, Tide. And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”
I wanted to rage. To scream. To summon lightning and tear the room apart.
But I didn’t.
Because he was right.
And that was the worst part.
“I came here to destroy you,” I said, voice breaking. “To burn your house to the ground. To make you pay for what your father did.”
“And now?” he asked, stepping closer.
“Now I don’t know what I want,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer. Just reached for me, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair from my face. His thumb traced my lower lip. The bond flared—warm, deep, aching. My breath hitched. My body leaned into his touch without permission.
And I hated that I didn’t pull away.
“Then let me show you,” he said.
And before I could answer, he kissed me.
Not like in the hall. Not for show.
This was real.
His mouth crashed into mine, hot and demanding, his fangs grazing my lip, drawing a bead of blood. The bond exploded—fire and lightning, hunger and rage, desire so sharp it was pain. My hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, my body pressing against his, every inch of me screaming for more.
He groaned, one hand tangling in my hair, the other sliding down, gripping my thigh, lifting me—
And then—
A knock.
Hard. Insistent.
The door burst open.
Riven.
He froze in the doorway, his eyes wide, taking in the scene—me in Kael’s arms, my gown torn, my lips swollen, Kael’s hand on my thigh, his fangs still bared.
“I—” he started, then stopped, jaw clenching. “The Council requests your presence. Immediately.”
Kael didn’t release me. Just turned his head, his voice low, dangerous. “We’ll be there.”
Riven hesitated—then nodded, backing out, shutting the door.
Silence.
Kael slowly lowered me, his hands still on my hips, his eyes searching mine. “You’re not going to kill me,” he said again. “Not today.”
“No,” I whispered. “Not today.”
But tomorrow?
Tomorrow, I wasn’t so sure.
Because for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.