The silence before the eclipse was worse than any storm.
Not empty. Not still. But charged—thick with anticipation, with dread, with the unbearable weight of what was coming. The sky outside the suite had darkened to a bruised violet, the moon already beginning its slow crawl across the sun, swallowing light whole. The bond hummed beneath my skin, not in warning, not in pain, but in pull. A deep, rhythmic throb, like a second heartbeat, syncing with the pulse in my throat, the heat low in my belly, the ache between my thighs.
I stood at the window, my fingers pressed to the cold glass, my breath fogging the pane. The ring on my finger pulsed—once, twice—hot and heavy, as if it knew. As if it had been waiting for this moment since the first time our hands touched in the Grand Atrium.
Kael—no, Elion—hadn’t spoken since the Council’s decree. He’d only watched me, his obsidian eyes unreadable, his presence a steady weight against the silence. He stood by the hearth now, dressed in black, his coat open, his circlet absent. No armor. No weapons. Just him. Just us.
And the bond.
“It’s not a choice,” he said, voice low, rough. “Not anymore.”
“It’s always a choice,” I snapped, turning to face him. “I came here to destroy you. To burn your house to the ground. To make you pay for what your father did.”
“And now?” he asked, stepping closer. “Now that you’ve seen the truth? Now that you’ve read her journal? Now that you know I tried to save her?”
My breath caught.
Because he was right.
And that was the worst part.
“I don’t know what I want,” I whispered. “I don’t know if I hate you. If I want you. If I—” I cut myself off, jaw clenching. “I came here to break the bond. Not consummate it.”
“You don’t understand,” he said, closing the distance. “The bond isn’t just magic. It’s fate. And fate doesn’t ask for permission. It demands. And if we don’t answer tonight—”
“Then what?” I challenged.
“Then it will consume us,” he said, voice dropping, intimate. “Storm Sickness will rip through you. Lightning will tear your body apart. And I’ll be powerless to stop it. The same for me. The bond will break us both. Slowly. Painfully. And Vexen will win.”
My stomach dropped.
Not from fear.
From the way his voice dropped—low, rough, dangerous.
From the way his hand lifted, his thumb brushing my lower lip. The bond flared—warm, deep, aching. My body leaned into his touch without permission.
And I hated that I didn’t pull away.
“You’re not giving me a choice,” I whispered.
“I’m giving you survival,” he said. “And a chance to fight another day.”
I wanted to argue. To rage. To summon lightning and tear the room apart.
But I didn’t.
Because he was right.
And that was the worst part.
“Fine,” I said, voice cold. “I’ll play their little game. But don’t think this means I’m yours.”
“You already are,” he said, stepping closer. “You just haven’t accepted it yet.”
The ritual chamber was deeper than I remembered, hidden beneath the Fae High Court in a cavern of obsidian and silver, its walls lined with ancient mirrors that reflected nothing but shadow. The air was thick with the scent of old magic and something darker—desire. The floor was carved with runes, glowing faintly with every pulse of the bond. At the center stood a dais, its surface etched with the sigil of the fated bond: two serpents, entwined, their fangs buried in each other’s throats.
The Council waited in silence, cloaked in their house colors, their eyes sharp, their breaths shallow. The High Queen sat at the front, her silver crown gleaming, her gaze like ice. No whispers. No judgment. Just silence.
And expectation.
“Tide of the Storm-Witch Line,” the Queen intoned. “Kael Valen, Prince of the House of Blood. You stand before the Council to seal your bond. Do you accept the terms?”
“I do,” Kael said, voice steady, unflinching.
“And you?” she asked, turning to me.
I hesitated.
Not because I didn’t want to. Not because I was afraid.
But because I did want to. And that terrified me.
“I do,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Then begin,” she said. “Let the bond be sealed. Let the fates bear witness.”
We stepped onto the dais, the runes flaring beneath our feet. The mirrors shifted—no longer empty. Now, they showed us. Not as we were. But as we would be.
Naked.
Entwined.
Fused.
The bond roared to life—fire and lightning, hunger and rage, desire so sharp it was pain. My breath hitched. My magic flared. The ring on my finger blazed—hot, then cold, then hot again.
Kael reached for me.
Not roughly. Not possessively.
Gently.
His fingers traced the line of my jaw, then slid down, unfastening the clasp of my cloak. It fell to the floor, pooling like ink. His hands moved to the buttons of my gown—slow, deliberate, each one a promise, a threat. I didn’t stop him. Didn’t flinch. Just stood there, my breath coming fast, my body trembling.
And when the last button gave way, and the fabric slipped from my shoulders, I didn’t cover myself.
I let him see me.
All of me.
His breath caught.
Not from lust.
From reverence.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, voice raw. “You’re fire. You’re storm. You’re mine.”
And then he was undressing too—his coat, his shirt, his boots—each piece falling like a vow. And when he stood before me, bare, his body a map of scars and strength, his fangs glinting in the dim light, I didn’t look away.
I reached for him.
My fingers traced the old whip mark across his back—the one from the dungeon, the one he’d taken for my mother. His breath hitched. His eyes closed. And when I pressed my lips to it, he shuddered.
“You were hurt too,” I whispered.
“For her,” he said. “And now, for you.”
He pulled me into his arms, his body flush with mine, every inch of me screaming for more. The bond flared—warm, deep, alive. His hands slid down, gripping my thighs, lifting me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck, my lips crashing into his.
Not soft. Not slow.
Hunger.
His mouth was hot, demanding, his fangs grazing my lip, drawing blood. The bond exploded—fire and lightning, magic and need, desire so sharp it was pain. My hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, my body pressing against his, every inch of me screaming for more.
He groaned, carrying me to the dais, laying me down on the cold stone. His hands roamed—over my breasts, my hips, my thighs—each touch a brand, a claim. I arched into him, my breath ragged, my magic crackling over my skin.
“Look at me,” he growled.
I did.
His obsidian eyes were wild, feral, filled with something I’d never seen before.
Need.
“Say it,” he said, voice rough. “Say you’re mine.”
“I hate you,” I whispered.
“Say it,” he demanded, his hand sliding between my thighs, his fingers brushing my core—already wet, already aching.
I gasped.
“I hate you,” I said again, but my hips bucked into his touch.
He smiled—a dark, dangerous curve of his lips. “Then hate me. But don’t lie to the bond. It knows. It always knows.”
And then he was inside me.
Not slowly. Not gently.
Claiming.
One thrust—deep, hard, relentless—and I screamed, my back arching, my magic exploding in a burst of lightning that lit the chamber in violet and silver. The mirrors flared. The runes burned. The bond—ancient, cursed, chained—roared.
He didn’t stop.
Just moved—deep, relentless, each thrust a punishment, a prayer, a promise. My nails bit into his shoulders. My legs locked around his waist. My breath came in ragged gasps, each one his name.
Elion.
He froze.
Not from shock. Not from pain.
From recognition.
“Say it again,” he growled.
“Elion,” I gasped. “Elion, Elion, Elion—”
And then he was kissing me—hot, desperate, real—his fangs grazing my neck, not biting, not claiming, just feeling. His thrusts grew faster, harder, deeper, until I was screaming, my body convulsing, my magic surging in a wave of fire and lightning that lit the chamber like a supernova.
And when he came—deep inside me, his fangs sinking into my shoulder, not to mark, but to anchor—the bond didn’t just flare.
It sang.
The chamber was silent.
Not from shock.
From awe.
The mirrors no longer showed shadow. They showed us—entwined, glowing, fused by magic and desire, the bond flaring like a star. The runes had changed—no longer the serpents. Now, a single flame, burning eternal.
We didn’t move.
Just lay there, our bodies still joined, our breaths ragged, our hearts beating in time. His fangs were still in my shoulder, his arms around me, his body shielding mine. And I didn’t want him to let go.
“You’re not what I expected,” I whispered.
“Neither are you,” he said, pulling back, his thumb brushing my cheek. “But you’re everything I never knew I needed.”
I didn’t answer.
Just kissed him—soft, slow, real.
And when the High Queen finally spoke, her voice was not cold. Not sharp.
But reverent.
“The bond is sealed,” she said. “The fates have spoken. Let no one break what the gods have joined.”
We left in silence, the weight of what had just happened pressing between us. Back in the suite, the door clicked shut behind us, and I didn’t wait.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, turning to him. “You didn’t have to claim me.”
“I didn’t claim you,” he said, stepping closer. “I claimed us.”
“And if I’d said no?”
“You wouldn’t have,” he said. “The bond wouldn’t have let you.”
“And if I still hate you?”
“Then hate me,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “But don’t lie to yourself. Don’t lie to the bond. It knows. It always knows.”
And then—
I kissed him.
Not like before. Not angry. Not desperate.
Soft.
Slow.
Real.
His lips were cool, but the kiss was fire. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, his body pressing against mine. The bond roared to life, a tidal wave of sensation—her voice, her magic, her love, flooding through us like a river breaking its banks.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
For the first time, I didn’t run.
For the first time, I let myself believe—
That maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t come here to destroy him.
Maybe I’d come here to save him.
And in saving him… save myself.
He pulled back, his thumb brushing my cheek. “We’ll find the truth,” he said. “Together.”
“Together,” I whispered.
And as the first light of dawn broke through the drapes, painting the room in gold and shadow, I knew—
The mission hadn’t changed.
The enemy hadn’t changed.
But I had.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
Fated Tide: Blood & Bond
The night Tide’s mother died, she whispered two words: Break the bond.
Now, twenty-five years later, Tide walks into the Fae High Court with those words etched into her bones. A half-fae, half-witch with storm-born magic and a mother’s vengeance, she’s spent a decade mastering blood sigils, shadow spells, and the art of deception. Her mission: infiltrate the vampire elite, locate the original bond contract, and sever the curse that turned her mother into a blood-slave—then burn the prince responsible to ash.
But Prince Kael is not the monster she expected. He’s colder. More dangerous. And when their hands touch during a peace ritual, a forbidden fated bond flares to life between them—one that hasn’t existed in centuries. The High Court declares it divine will. The elders demand they unite. And Kael, with eyes like black ice and a voice that curls around her spine, offers her a choice: play the devoted fiancée, or die as a spy.
Trapped in a gilded cage of silk and secrets, Tide fights to keep her mission intact. But between forced proximity, blood-sharing rituals, and the way his scent makes her pulse throb, her control is slipping. When a rival vampiress flaunts her past with Kael—wearing his mark, whispering his secrets—Tide’s jealousy explodes into a duel that ends with her pinned beneath him, breathless, aching, and seconds from surrender.
Their bond is both salvation and damnation: it could free her mother’s soul… or chain Tide to the very monster she came to destroy. And as war brews between the courts, one truth becomes undeniable—when their bodies touch, magic surges. When they fight, empires tremble. And when they love? The world will burn.