The silence after the guards left was worse than the chaos.
It wasn’t empty. It was charged. Thick with magic, with heat, with the echo of what had almost happened. My body still thrummed from Kael’s touch—the ghost of his fingers beneath my robe, the press of his thigh between mine, the way my hips had arched into him without permission. My lips were swollen, my breath ragged, my skin burning where he’d kissed me. The bond roared beneath my skin, not in warning, but in triumph. As if it had finally won.
And maybe it had.
I stepped back, shoving at his chest, but he didn’t resist. Just let me go, his hands falling to his sides, his obsidian eyes dark, unreadable. His fangs were still bared, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. He looked like a predator who’d tasted blood and wasn’t sure whether to finish the kill or savor the hunt.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I snapped, yanking my robe closed, my fingers trembling. “Don’t you dare look at me like I’m yours.”
“You are,” he said, voice low, rough. “And you know it.”
“I know nothing,” I said, turning away, my hands fisting in the fabric. “That was a mistake. A lapse. A moment of weakness.”
“It wasn’t weakness,” he said, stepping closer. “It was truth.”
“It was nothing,” I spat, whirling on him. “You think because we touched, because the bond flared, because I—” I cut myself off, jaw clenching. “It changes nothing.”
“It changes everything,” he said, closing the distance, his hands gripping my arms. “You felt it. In the ritual. In my memories. In your own body. You felt the truth.”
“The truth?” I laughed—short, harsh. “The truth is your father enslaved my mother. The truth is you did nothing to stop it. The truth is this bond is a lie, and I will break it.”
“I was seventeen,” he said, voice sharp. “I had no power. No voice. I tried to help her. I brought her water. I smuggled her food. I begged my father to end her suffering. And he punished me for it.” He leaned in, his breath cold on my neck. “So don’t you dare tell me I did nothing.”
I froze.
Because I’d seen it. In the memory. The whip. The blood. The way he’d been dragged away, young, helpless, his face twisted in pain.
And still, he’d tried.
My breath caught. “You… you really did?”
“Every night,” he said, voice dropping. “For three months. Until they moved her. Until she was gone. And I was left with nothing but guilt and a name I never wanted.”
My chest ached.
Not from anger. Not from hatred.
From something worse.
Pity.
And I couldn’t afford pity. Not for him. Not for anyone.
“It doesn’t matter,” I whispered, pulling back. “You didn’t save her. You didn’t stop him. And now you’re just like him—using me, binding me, controlling me.”
“I’m not him,” he said, stepping forward. “I’m not your enemy.”
“You’re not my ally either,” I shot back. “You’re a vampire prince who wants to use me to secure his power. That’s all this is. A political farce. A game.”
“Then why did you kiss me on the balcony?” he demanded. “Why did you let me carry you? Why did you cry in my arms?”
“Because I was weak,” I said, voice breaking. “Because I was tired. Because for one stupid, traitorous moment, I let myself believe—” I cut myself off, shaking my head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over. I won’t let it happen again.”
“You can’t stop it,” he said, stepping closer. “The bond is alive. It’s growing. It’s changing. And you can’t fight it forever.”
“Watch me,” I said, backing toward the door. “I’ll burn it all down before I let it chain me.”
“And what happens when you do?” he asked, voice low. “When the bond breaks? When the Supernal Accord collapses? When war erupts and thousands die because you couldn’t control your pride?”
“Then let them burn,” I said, but my voice wavered. “Let the whole world burn. I don’t care.”
“You do,” he said, stepping closer. “You care too much.”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
And that was the worst part.
I turned, yanking the door open—but it didn’t budge. Locked. Warded. Trapped.
“Let me out,” I said, voice cold.
“Not yet,” he said, stepping behind me, his hands on my shoulders. “We’re not done.”
“We were never started,” I hissed, shrugging him off. “This was a mistake. A lapse. A moment of weakness.”
“It wasn’t weakness,” he said, turning me to face him. “It was hunger. It was need. It was desire.”
“I don’t desire you,” I said, but my voice trembled.
“Then why do you taste like mine?”
And before I could answer, he kissed me.
Not like in the ritual. Not desperate. Not angry.
This was slow.
His lips brushed mine, soft, teasing, his hands sliding to my waist, pulling me closer. The bond flared—warm, deep, aching. My breath hitched. My body arched into him. And I hated that I didn’t push him away.
He deepened it, one hand tangling in my hair, the other at the small of my back, pressing me flush against him. His fangs grazed my lip, drawing a bead of blood. The taste of iron flooded my mouth, mingling with the storm magic crackling between us. My hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, my body begging for more.
He groaned, his mouth trailing down my neck, his fangs scraping my skin, sending shivers through my body. My head fell back, a moan escaping my lips. His hands were everywhere—my waist, my hips, beneath my robe, his touch like fire on my skin.
“Kael,” I gasped, my voice breaking.
“Say my name again,” he growled, his mouth at my ear.
“Kael—”
He kissed me again, deeper, hungrier, his body pressing me against the wall, his thigh sliding between mine. Heat pooled low in my belly, the bond flaring with every heartbeat. I could feel his desire, sharp and sudden, like a blade. Could taste the iron of his blood on my tongue.
His hand slipped beneath my undergarments, his fingers brushing—
And then—
I shoved him.
Hard.
He stumbled back, eyes wide, fangs still bared. I didn’t give him time to react. I summoned the storm—raw, unfiltered—and slammed it into the door.
Lightning cracked.
Wood splintered.
The lock shattered.
And I was gone.
I ran.
Not to the suite. Not to safety.
To the only place I could think of—Riven.
The werewolf quarters were in the lower east wing, a labyrinth of stone corridors and torch-lit halls. I didn’t care who saw me. Didn’t care about the whispers, the stares, the way nobles stepped back as I passed, my robe torn, my hair wild, my lips swollen.
I found him in the training yard, shirtless, sparring with two younger wolves. He froze when he saw me, his amber eyes narrowing.
“Tide,” he said, stepping forward. “What happened?”
I didn’t answer. Just threw myself into his arms.
And I wept.
Not quietly. Not gracefully.
Like a storm breaking.
Great, heaving sobs that tore from my chest, my body trembling, my magic crackling around me like lightning. He didn’t speak. Just held me, his arms strong around my back, his scent—wolf and pine and earth—filling my senses.
Minutes passed.
Then, softly: “Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head, wiping my face. “No. Not like that.”
“Then what?”
“I… I almost let him,” I whispered. “I almost let him touch me. I almost let him—” I cut myself off, shaking. “I wanted it, Riven. I wanted him.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t judge. Just pulled me closer. “You don’t have to fight it, you know.”
“I do,” I said, pulling back. “He’s the enemy. His father destroyed my mother. And I swore I’d make him pay.”
“And have you?” he asked. “Have you made him pay?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why stop now?”
“Because I’m losing myself,” I said, voice breaking. “Every time he touches me, every time the bond flares, I forget why I’m here. I forget who I am.”
“Maybe you’re not supposed to forget,” he said. “Maybe you’re supposed to remember.”
“Remember what?”
“That you’re not just vengeance,” he said. “You’re not just a weapon. You’re a woman. A witch. A storm. And you deserve more than just hate.”
I stared at him, tears still burning my eyes. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”
“Then stop fighting,” he said. “Stop pretending you don’t feel it. Stop pretending you don’t want him. And see what happens.”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know.
He pulled a cloak from a nearby bench, wrapping it around my shoulders. “Go back to the suite. Rest. Think. And whatever you do—don’t let them break you.”
“They already have,” I whispered.
“No,” he said, lifting my chin. “You’re still here. You’re still fighting. And as long as you’re breathing, you’re not broken.”
I nodded, wiping my face. “Thank you.”
He smiled—just slightly. “Always.”
I returned to the suite slowly, the cloak heavy on my shoulders, my mind a storm of thoughts. The bond hummed beneath my skin, quiet now, but present. Waiting. Watching.
The suite was empty. No Kael. No servants. Just the fire, crackling in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room.
I sat on the chaise, staring into the flames. My body ached. My heart ached. And for the first time, I let myself feel it all—the grief, the rage, the fear, the desire.
And then—
The door opened.
Kael stepped in, dressed in black, his circlet gone, his hair slightly tousled. He froze when he saw me, his eyes dark, unreadable.
“You ran,” he said.
“You locked me in,” I said.
“I didn’t want you to leave like that.”
“Like what? Broken? Weak? Yours?”
“Like someone who finally let herself feel,” he said, stepping closer. “Like someone who stopped fighting.”
“I’m not yours,” I whispered.
“You are,” he said, kneeling in front of me, his hands on my knees. “And I’m not going to let you run from it.”
“I hate you,” I said, tears burning my eyes.
“Then why do you taste like mine?”
And before I could answer, he pulled me into his arms.
Not roughly. Not possessively.
Gently.
And I didn’t fight it.
I buried my face in his chest, my body trembling, my breath hitching. His arms tightened around me, his scent—night and blood and something uniquely him—filling my senses. The bond hummed, warm, deep, alive.
“I hate you,” I sobbed. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—”
“I know,” he murmured, stroking my hair. “And I’ll make you hate me every day if it keeps you alive.”
“I don’t want to hate you,” I whispered. “I don’t want to want you. I don’t want to feel this.”
“Too late,” he said, pulling back, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You already do.”
I looked up at him, my storm-gray eyes searching his. “What happens now?”
“Now?” he said, his voice low, rough. “Now, we survive. We fight. We burn the world down together.”
“And the bond?”
“It’s not a chain,” he said. “It’s a weapon. And we’re going to use it.”
“To what end?”
“To break the real monster,” he said. “To free your mother’s soul. To burn my father to ash.”
I stared at him. “You’d do that? For me?”
“Not for you,” he said. “For us.”
And in that moment, I believed him.
Not because he’d said the right words.
But because I could feel it—through the bond, through his touch, through the way his heart beat against mine.
He wasn’t my enemy.
He was my partner.
And for the first time, I wasn’t sure whether that was salvation… or damnation.
He leaned in, his lips brushing mine—soft, slow, real.
And I didn’t pull away.
Because maybe—just maybe—I didn’t want to.