The kiss didn’t end.
Not really.
Even after Kael pulled back, his thumb still lingering on my lower lip, the taste of blood 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 Edicts erupted in applause, but all I heard was the roar of blood in my ears.
You wear my mark now.
His voice had been low, meant only for me. A vow. A threat. A promise.
I didn’t flinch. 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 Council, bowing. “The bond is sealed. The rites are complete.”
The High Queen raised a hand. “Let it be known—Prince Kael Valen and Tide of the Storm-Witch Line are formally 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 left the Hall in silence, guards flanking us, whispers chasing our steps.
Did you see her eyes?
She looked like she wanted to kill him.
Maybe she did. Maybe he’ll be dead by dawn.
Let them talk.
Let them believe I was broken.
Let them think the ring, the kiss, the bond—had tamed me.
Because while they were watching for rebellion, I was planning sabotage.
Back in the suite, the door clicked shut behind us, and I didn’t wait.
“You think a ring and a kiss make me yours?” I said, yanking the chalice from the servant’s tray and hurling it against the hearth. It shattered, dark wine splattering like blood across the stone. “You think I’ll play your obedient little bride while you parade me like a trophy?”
Kael didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just watched me, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “You said the vows. You drank from the chalice. You wore the ring. You kissed me back.”
“I did what I had to survive.”
“So did I.”
“This isn’t survival,” I spat. “This is slavery. You’ve bound me to you with magic and lies, and you expect me to—”
“I expect you to adapt,” he cut in, voice sharp. “Because if you don’t, you’ll die. The bond isn’t a suggestion, Tide. It’s biology. It’s magic. It’s law. And if you keep fighting it, it will break you.”
“I’ve been broken since I was six,” I said, stepping closer, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t get to tell me what breaking feels like.”
For a heartbeat, his mask slipped. I saw it—grief. Guilt. Something raw and unguarded. Then it was gone.
“Then stop pretending,” he said. “Stop pretending you don’t feel it. The pull. The heat. The way your magic responds to mine. The way your body—”
“Don’t,” I snapped, turning away, my hands clenching at my sides. “Don’t you dare pretend this is about desire. This is about control. About power. About chaining me to your house so you can use me as a political shield.”
“And if I am?” he said, stepping closer. “Would that be so wrong? You came here to kill me. You’d burn my house to the ground without blinking. And you expect me to trust you? To let you walk free?”
“I don’t want your trust.”
“Then what do you want?”
I turned to face him. “I want the truth. I want the contract. I want the man who enslaved my mother—dead.”
His jaw tightened. “My father is dead.”
“Liar.”
“Believe what you want.”
“I believe in proof.”
“Then find it.”
“I will.”
We stood there, locked in silence, the air between us charged. The bond hummed, reacting to our anger, our proximity, the unspoken things clawing beneath the surface.
Then he exhaled, long and slow. “There’s a ritual tonight. A blood-sealing. The Council wants to strengthen the bond’s legitimacy. You’ll attend.”
“Or what?”
“Or they’ll assume you’re resisting. And resistance is treason.”
I bared my teeth. “You enjoy this, don’t you? Forcing me to play your game.”
“I don’t enjoy anything about this,” he said, voice low. “But I will survive. And if you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”
He turned, walking toward the door. “Be ready by moonrise.”
Then he was gone.
I waited—counted to fifty—then moved.
The ritual was my chance.
The Council would demand a blood offering. A symbolic exchange. A public display of unity.
And I would give it to them.
Just not the one they expected.
I went to the wardrobe, pulling out the hidden compartment beneath the false bottom. My fingers closed around cold metal—a vial of paralysis powder, three more daggers, a scrap of parchment with a blood sigil etched in my own ink.
Not enough to kill him.
But enough to disrupt.
Enough to make them doubt.
Enough to make him slip.
At moonrise, a servant arrived to escort me to the Ritual Chamber—a circular room deep beneath the Fae Court, its walls lined with ancient runes that pulsed with dormant magic. The air was thick with incense, the scent of myrrh and iron. Torches flickered, casting long shadows across the stone floor.
Kael was already there, dressed in black ceremonial robes, his circlet back in place. The Council stood in a half-circle, the High Queen at the center. Riven was there too, arms crossed, expression grim. Our eyes met—just for a second—and I saw the warning in his gaze.
Don’t do anything stupid.
Too late.
“Envoy Tide,” the High Queen intoned. “You stand before the Council to seal your bond in blood. Do you offer your life force freely?”
“I do,” I said, voice steady.
“Prince Kael Valen. Do you accept her blood as yours?”
“I do.”
A silver blade was placed in my palm—cold, sharp, etched with Valen runes. The ritual required a cut—deep enough to draw blood, not enough to cripple. A symbol of surrender. Of unity.
I held the blade over the ritual basin—a shallow dish of black stone filled with liquid silver. The bond hummed, reacting to the proximity of blood magic.
And then—
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
Long enough for the Council to notice. Long enough for whispers to rise.
“She resists,” one noble murmured.
“The bond is false,” said another.
Kael’s voice cut through the noise. “Tide.”
I looked at him.
And then, slowly, deliberately, I dragged the blade across my palm.
Blood welled—dark, rich, humming with storm magic. It dripped into the basin, sizzling as it met the silver liquid. The runes on the walls flared to life, glowing crimson.
The bond surged.
Fire ripped through my veins.
But I wasn’t done.
As the blood dripped, I pressed my fingers to the hidden sigil on the parchment in my sleeve. A whisper of power—silent, subtle. The sigil flared, just once, beneath the fabric.
And then—
The basin cracked.
Not much. Just a hairline fracture. But enough.
The silver liquid began to bubble, turning black. The runes flickered—then dimmed.
Gasps echoed through the chamber.
“The magic is corrupted,” a vampire elder hissed.
“She sabotaged it!” another accused.
I dropped the blade, clutching my palm. “I did nothing.”
“Liar,” Kael said, but his voice wasn’t angry. It was… calculating. He stepped forward, gripping my wrist, pulling my bleeding hand toward him. “If you didn’t do this, then what caused it?”
“Ask your father,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Or is he too busy hiding in the shadows?”
The chamber erupted.
“Blasphemy!”
“Treason!”
“She must be punished!”
Kael didn’t release me. Just studied me, his eyes dark, unreadable. Then, slowly, he lifted my hand to his mouth.
And bit me.
Not hard. Not enough to draw more blood. Just a graze—his fangs pressing into the cut, a spark of pain, of pleasure, of something deeper. The bond roared to life, a tidal wave of sensation crashing through me. I gasped, my knees buckling—but he held me up, his other arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush against him.
His breath was cold on my neck. His voice, a velvet threat in my ear.
“You want to play games, little storm?” he murmured. “Then let’s play.”
He turned to the Council. “The magic failed because the bond is unstable. Because she resists it. Because she refuses to accept what fate has given us.”
“Then sever it!” the High Queen demanded.
“No,” Kael said. “She will be punished. But not by death. By obedience.”
He pulled back, holding up my bleeding hand. “I will bind her to me with a blood oath. One that forces her to feel what I feel. To know my pain. My hunger. My need. And if she ever tries to sabotage us again—she’ll suffer for it.”
“Agreed,” the High Queen said. “Let the oath be sealed.”
No one protested.
No one helped me.
Even Riven looked away.
Kael dragged me to the center of the chamber, forcing me to my knees. He cut his own palm with the silver blade, then pressed his bleeding hand to mine.
“By blood, I bind you,” he intoned, voice echoing with power. “By magic, I claim you. You will feel my pain. You will know my hunger. You will obey my will—or suffer the cost.”
The bond flared—brighter, hotter, deeper. I screamed as the magic tore through me, not just in my veins, but in my mind, my soul. I could feel him—his rage, his control, his hunger, his grief. The weight of centuries. The shame of a name he never wanted. The memory of a boy who tried to help my mother—and failed.
And beneath it all—me. My face in his thoughts. My voice. My scent. The way my lips had trembled when he kissed me.
I tried to pull away, but the magic held me, binding us together in a way that wasn’t just physical.
It was intimate.
When it was over, I collapsed, gasping, my body trembling. The ring on my finger burned. The cut on my palm throbbed. And the bond—deeper now, darker—hummed between us like a live wire.
Kael crouched beside me, lifting my chin with two fingers. His eyes were black with something I couldn’t name.
“You’ll never win this way,” he said, voice low. “But you’re magnificent when you try.”
Then he kissed me.
Not on the lips.
On the cut.
His tongue traced the wound, sealing it with vampire magic. A jolt of heat shot through me—sharp, sudden, pleasurable. I shuddered, not from pain.
From the way his breath felt on my skin.
From the way my body responded.
From the way, for one terrible, traitorous second—I didn’t want him to stop.
He pulled back, studying me. “You’ll never forgive me,” he said.
“Never,” I whispered.
But my body betrayed me with a soft moan.
And in that moment, I knew—
I wasn’t just fighting Kael.
I was fighting myself.
And I was losing.