The blood oath didn’t just bind me.
It haunted me.
Every breath I took, I felt him. Not just the bond—the deeper, darker thread Kael had woven with his magic. His emotions didn’t just brush against mine; they *lived* inside me, pulsing like a second heartbeat. When he was near, it was a storm. When he was gone, it was an ache, a hollow space where his presence should be.
I hated it.
I hated the way my body still trembled hours after the ritual, my skin hypersensitive, every shadow, every whisper sending a jolt through my nerves. I hated the way my magic—usually so tightly leashed—crackled just beneath the surface, responding to the bond like a starving thing. And I especially hated the way, when I closed my eyes, I could still feel the heat of his mouth on my palm, the velvet scrape of his tongue sealing the wound, the way my breath had hitched—not from pain, but from something far more dangerous.
Desire.
I hadn’t slept. Couldn’t. Every time I drifted, I saw him—his hands on me, his voice in my ear, his fangs grazing my skin. And worse, I saw me—arched into him, trembling, wanting.
Weak.
Pathetic.
Unworthy of my mother’s memory.
I paced the suite like a caged thing, the ring burning on my finger, the bond humming beneath my skin. The servants had brought breakfast—blood-orange pastries, dark tea, a glass of synthetic blood for Kael—but I hadn’t touched any of it. My stomach was a knot of fury and something else I refused to name.
Fear.
Not of Kael.
Of what he was doing to me.
Of how easily he’d slipped past my defenses. Of how his punishment hadn’t broken me—it had claimed me.
A knock at the door.
I froze, magic flaring in my palms. “Enter.”
The door opened. Not a servant.
Lyra.
She stepped in like she owned the room—tall, flawless, her silver-blonde hair cascading over one shoulder, her gown the color of moonlight and poison. Pale blue silk, cut low, clinging to every curve. Her eyes—sharp, calculating—swept over me, lingering on the ring, the nightgown I still wore, the disarray of my hair.
“Oh,” she said, voice like honey over glass. “I didn’t realize you were still… undressed.”
My lip curled. “This is my suite.”
“Is it?” She smiled, stepping deeper into the room. “I could’ve sworn it was Kael’s. But then, I suppose when you’re bound by blood and lies, ownership gets… blurry.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t rise to the bait. “What do you want, Lyra?”
“I came to welcome you,” she said, gliding toward the hearth. “A new bride in the Valen house. It’s been so long.” She turned, leaning against the mantel, one hand trailing over the stone. “I was the last, you know. The last woman he allowed in his bed.”
My breath caught.
But I didn’t show it. Just folded my arms. “How… tragic for you.”
She laughed—soft, musical. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t care. I’ve seen the way you look at him. Like you want to kill him. Like you want to fuck him. Both, really.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Am I?” She pushed off the mantel, stepping closer. “He used to whisper my name like a prayer. Used to mark me in places no one else could see. Used to beg me to stay.”
“And yet, here I am,” I said coldly. “Wearing his ring. Bound by his blood. And you? You’re just another noblewoman with a grudge and a bad memory.”
Her smile didn’t waver. But her eyes—cold, Fae-sharp—narrowed. “You think this bond means something? You think because a spark flared between you, he *chose* you?” She stepped even closer, until we were nearly nose to nose. “He didn’t choose you, Tide. He *claimed* you. Because he had to. Because the court demanded it. Because you were convenient.”
“And you weren’t?”
“I was loved,” she hissed.
I laughed. Short. Harsh. “You don’t know the first thing about love. You know power. You know politics. You know how to use your body to get what you want. But love?” I leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “Kael doesn’t love. He *controls*.”
For a heartbeat, she faltered.
Then she smiled again—wider, crueler. “You’re right. He doesn’t love. But he *desires*. And he desired me. Deeply. Passionately. For months.” She reached up, slowly untying the delicate silk ribbon at her throat. “Ask him. Ask him how many nights he spent in my chambers. Ask him how he liked it when I—”
“Get out.”
“—when I rode him until he—”
“Get out!”
My magic exploded.
Not a spell. Not a sigil.
Raw, unfiltered storm.
Lightning cracked from my fingertips, slamming into the wall beside her head, sending shards of marble and silver veins exploding outward. The force threw her back, her gown tearing, her hair whipping around her face like a storm.
She gasped, scrambling to her feet, eyes wide with shock—and something else.
Triumph.
“There it is,” she breathed, smiling. “The little storm, finally showing her teeth.”
I stepped forward, magic crackling in my hands. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’ve survived. And you certainly don’t know what I’ll do to anyone who stands between me and what I want.”
“And what is it you want?” she challenged. “Revenge? Power? Or just him?”
“I want him dead,” I said, voice low, deadly. “And I’ll burn every last one of you to ash to make it happen.”
She laughed again—sharp, brittle. “Then you’ll have to kill me first.”
And before I could react, she lunged.
Not with magic.
With her nails.
She swiped at my face, her fingers raking across my cheek, drawing blood. I snarled, grabbing her wrist, twisting—
But she was faster.
She kicked, her heel slamming into my knee. I stumbled, and she shoved me back, sending me crashing into the bed. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, but I rolled, kicking out—
Her gown tangled around her legs.
I saw my chance.
I surged forward, tackling her to the floor, my hands closing around her throat. She gasped, her eyes wide, her fingers clawing at my wrists.
“You don’t know him,” I hissed, pressing down. “You don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t know what he’s done.”
“And you do?” she choked. “You think you’re the first woman to come here vowing to destroy him? You think you’re the first to believe he’s a monster?”
“I’m the first who *knows*,” I said. “And I’m the first who’ll succeed.”
Her lips curled. “Then why haven’t you killed him yet?”
I froze.
Because the truth was—
I didn’t know.
Not anymore.
And in that hesitation—
She twisted.
Her knee drove into my stomach. I gasped, doubling over—
And then a hand closed around my arm, yanking me back.
I twisted, ready to fight—
And froze.
Kael.
He stood between us, his expression unreadable, his grip like iron on my wrist. His eyes flicked to Lyra, sprawled on the floor, her gown torn, her hair wild, a thin line of blood on her lip.
“Lyra,” he said, voice calm. “You’re not welcome here.”
She pushed herself up, wiping her mouth. “I was just welcoming your new bride.”
“And she welcomed you with lightning,” he said. “Get out.”
“Kael—”
“Now.”
She hesitated—then stood, smoothing her gown, her chin high. “This isn’t over.”
“It never is,” he said.
She turned, walking to the door—then paused, glancing back. “He used to whisper your name in his sleep too, you know. Before he found me.”
Then she was gone.
Silence.
Kael didn’t release me. Just stood there, his grip unyielding, his eyes dark, unreadable.
“You attacked her,” he said.
“She provoked me.”
“You could have walked away.”
“She said you—” I cut myself off, jaw clenching.
“Said what?”
“That you—” My voice broke. “That you spent nights in her bed. That she bore your mark.”
He didn’t deny it.
And that was worse.
“It was before,” he said quietly. “Before the bond. Before you.”
“And the mark?”
“She wears no true mark,” he said. “Only what I allowed for politics. For peace.”
“You let her believe—”
“I let her *think* what she wanted,” he said, stepping closer. “Because it served my house. Because it kept her from becoming a threat.”
“And now?”
“Now,” he said, his free hand lifting, his thumb brushing the cut on my cheek, “you’re the only threat I care about.”
My breath caught.
Not from the touch.
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’re jealous,” he murmured, stepping even closer, his body flush with mine. “You don’t want to kill me. You want to claim me.”
“I want you dead,” I whispered, 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 to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. “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 nightgown, his fingers tracing the curve of my hip.
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—
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 nightgown 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.
He stepped back, releasing me. “Get dressed. We have a Council to face.”
Then he was gone.
I stood there, trembling, my lips still burning, my body aching, the bond roaring in my veins.
I had come here to destroy him.
And instead, I was losing myself.
But as I turned to the wardrobe, my fingers brushing the hidden sigil in my sleeve, I made a new vow—one I whispered into the silence of my own mind.
I would play his fiancée.
I would wear his ring.
I would kiss him when required.
And when the time came—when I found the contract, when I broke the curse, when I stood over the monster who destroyed my mother—I would make Kael Valen watch.
Then I’d kill him too.
The bond flared again, as if in warning.
This time, I didn’t care.
Let it burn.
Let it rage.
Let it try to break me.
I was Tide of the Storm-Witch Line.
And I was not meant to be tamed.