The first sign was the fever.
I woke in Kaelen’s bed—*his* bed, not mine, not ours, *his*—drenched in sweat, my skin burning, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The wolf pelts were tangled around my legs, too heavy, too hot. I kicked them off, but the fire in my blood didn’t fade. If anything, it grew worse—spreading from my core, coiling low in my belly, tightening with every beat of my heart.
And the bond?
It wasn’t just humming.
It was screaming.
I rolled onto my side, clutching the sheets, my fingers trembling. My magic surged beneath my skin, fire flickering at my fingertips, responding to something I couldn’t name. My pulse was too fast. My mouth too dry. And between my thighs—
Wet.
Not from sweat.
From need.
I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing a hand to my stomach. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t just the bond acting up. This was something else—something deeper, darker, more primal.
And then I remembered.
What Silas had told me, weeks ago, in the training yard.
“Hybrids like you—your heat is triggered by proximity to your mate.”
No.
Not now.
Not here.
I sat up too fast, dizziness slamming into me. The room spun—stone walls, black furs, the fire crackling in the hearth. Kaelen was gone, his side of the bed cold. No note. No warning. Just silence.
Good.
I needed space. Needed time. Needed to get a grip before—
A wave of heat crashed through me, so intense it made me gasp. My back arched. My fingers clawed at the sheets. And the bond—Kaelen’s presence—pulled at me, a relentless tug in my gut, like a leash wrapped around my spine.
I couldn’t stay here.
I had to get out.
I stumbled to the wardrobe, yanked open the doors, grabbed the first thing I saw—a loose linen shirt, his, I realized too late, still warm with his scent. I pulled it on, the fabric clinging to my damp skin, his pine-and-smoke smell flooding my senses. My magic flared, fire licking at my fingertips, but I didn’t care. I needed to move. Needed to breathe.
I bolted for the door—
And froze.
Because he was there.
Kaelen.
Standing in the hallway, boots on, jacket unzipped, golden eyes locked onto mine. He must have just returned. Must have felt it—my panic, my heat, the bond screaming for him.
And now he was here.
And I was half-naked in his shirt.
“You’re burning up,” he said, stepping inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
“I’m fine,” I snapped, backing up. “Just… warm.”
He didn’t buy it.
Of course he didn’t.
He was an Alpha. He could smell it on me—heat, arousal, the faint metallic tang of magic straining against control. His nostrils flared. His jaw tightened. And his eyes—golden, predatory—dropped to my thighs, where the shirt barely covered them.
“You’re in heat,” he said, voice low.
“No,” I lied. “It’s just the bond. It’s acting up.”
“Liar.” He stepped closer, his scent enveloping me—male, Alpha, dangerous. “Your pulse is racing. Your magic is spiking. And your scent—” He leaned in, inhaling at my neck. “—is driving me insane.”
I shoved at his chest. “Then stay away from me!”
He caught my wrists, not hard, but firm, caging me against the wall. “You don’t get to run from this, Ruby. Not this time.”
“I’m not running!” I struggled, but he was too strong. Too real. “I’m not some animal in heat! I’m not your—”
Another wave of heat crashed through me, white-hot and unbearable. I gasped, arching into him, my body betraying me, my core clenching, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
And then—
He felt it.
His eyes flared. His grip tightened. His fangs dropped, just enough to show.
“You’re in heat,” he growled. “And the bond is demanding release.”
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I won’t—”
“You don’t have a choice.” He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “Your body does.”
And then—
He lifted me.
One moment, I was standing.
The next, I was in his arms, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, my hands flying to his shoulders—pushing or holding, I didn’t know. My magic surged, fire flickering at my fingertips, but he didn’t flinch. Just carried me to the bed, laid me down with a gentleness that made my chest ache.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, voice breaking. “Don’t—”
“I’m not going to fuck you,” he said, stripping off his jacket, then his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the scars, the mate-mark on his neck pulsing faintly in the firelight. “But I’m not going to let you suffer either.”
“Then leave,” I snapped. “Go to Lira. Go to anyone else. Just—”
“There is no one else.” He climbed onto the bed, caging me beneath him, his body hovering just above mine. “There hasn’t been since the moment the contract marked us.”
My breath hitched.
“You don’t want me,” I whispered. “You want control. Power. Legacy.”
“I want you.” His voice dropped, rough, dark. “And right now, I want you safe.”
Then he reached for the hem of the shirt.
“Don’t—”
“You’re burning up,” he said, voice steady. “You need to cool down. Let me help you.”
I didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
So I let him.
He pulled the shirt over my head, leaving me in nothing but my underclothes—thin cotton, damp with sweat. His eyes darkened, his breath catching, but he didn’t touch me. Not yet. Just reached for the damp cloth on the nightstand, wrung it out, and pressed it to my forehead.
“Breathe,” he ordered.
I tried.
But the heat was everywhere—coiling low in my belly, tightening with every breath, pulling at me, at the bond, at him. My magic flared, fire flickering at my fingertips, but he didn’t pull away. Just wiped my brow, then my neck, then my arms, his touch light, careful, gentle.
And then—
He reached for the buttons on my underclothes.
“No,” I said, grabbing his wrist. “I can do it.”
“You’re shaking,” he said. “Let me.”
I hesitated.
But I was weak. Feverish. And the bond—his presence—was a live wire sparking beneath my skin.
So I let go.
He unbuttoned the fabric slowly, revealing my chest, my stomach, the curve of my hips. His fingers brushed my skin, light, clinical, but every touch sent fire through me. My breath hitched. My core clenched. And my magic—
It danced for him.
He didn’t react. Just folded the cloth, set it aside, then reached for the pelts, pulling them down to cover me. But not fully. Just enough to keep me warm, not hot.
“You need to rest,” he said, sitting beside me, one hand resting on the bed, near my hip. “The heat will pass. It always does.”
“How do you know?” I whispered.
“Silas told me.” His voice was quiet. “About hybrids. About heat. About how it’s tied to the bond.”
“And you believed him?”
“I felt it.” He turned, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “The moment you woke up screaming in the night. The moment your magic flared without warning. The moment your scent changed.”
My breath caught.
“You’ve been watching me.”
“I’ve been protecting you.” He leaned in, just slightly. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been planning? The poison. The escape. The dreams?”
“You’ve been in my dreams?”
“Not physically.” A flicker of something—amusement? Regret?—in his eyes. “But the bond dreams with you. I’ve seen them. Felt them. Your mother. Your revenge. And me—” He paused. “—on top of you.”
My face burned.
“They’re not real,” I said, voice weak.
“They’re not lies,” he countered. “And they’re not just desire. They’re *need*. And right now, your body is screaming for it.”
“Then why won’t you give it to me?” I snapped, hating how broken I sounded. “If you want me so much, why won’t you *take* me?”
He went still.
Then, slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing my cheek. “Because you don’t want it from me. Not like this.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Yes, you do.” His thumb traced my lower lip. “You want it on your terms. You want to choose me. Not be taken by the bond. Not be claimed because you’re weak.”
My eyes burned.
“And if I never choose you?”
“Then I’ll wait.” He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “A hundred years. A thousand. I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
And then—
He stood.
Walked to the door.
“I’ll be outside,” he said, hand on the handle. “If you need me.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He looked back, his golden eyes softening. “But I want to.”
Then he was gone.
---
I didn’t sleep.
Couldn’t.
The heat didn’t fade. If anything, it grew worse—pulsing in time with the bond, pulling at me, at *him*, at the space between us. I tossed and turned, the sheets tangled around my legs, my skin still burning, my core still aching.
And the dreams?
They came.
Not of my mother.
Not of revenge.
Of *him*.
His hands on my waist. His mouth on my neck. His fangs breaking skin. His voice, rough with need, whispering my name.
I woke with a gasp, my hand between my thighs, fingers slick, breath ragged. Shame flooded my mouth, thick and bitter. I wasn’t supposed to want this. I wasn’t supposed to *feel* this.
But I did.
And worse—
I was alone.
He hadn’t come back.
He’d kept his word. Stayed outside. Given me space. Let me fight this on my own.
And I hated him for it.
Because I didn’t *want* to fight.
I wanted to surrender.
---
I don’t know how long it was before I broke.
An hour? Two? The fire in my blood didn’t care about time. It only cared about *him*.
So I got up.
Stumbled to the door.
Opened it.
And there he was.
Sitting against the wall, head bowed, eyes closed. Fully dressed. Boots on. Like he’d been ready to move at any second.
He looked up as I stepped into the hall, his golden eyes locking onto mine. No surprise. No triumph. Just quiet, steady concern.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low.
I didn’t answer.
Just walked to him.
Knelt in front of him.
And placed my hand over the mate-mark on his neck.
The bond exploded.
Heat—white-hot, electric—shot through me, coiling low in my belly, tightening with every breath. My magic surged, fire flickering at my fingertips. His eyes flared gold. His breath hitched. His fangs dropped.
“Ruby—”
“Don’t talk,” I whispered, leaning in. “Just… *feel*.”
And then—
I kissed him.
Not desperate.
Not angry.
Soft. Slow. Sure.
His hands flew to my waist, holding me in place, his breath hot against my lips. He didn’t deepen it. Didn’t take control. Just let me—let me set the pace, let me claim him, let me *choose*.
And when I pulled back, my forehead resting against his, my breath coming fast, my body still aching, I whispered the truth I couldn’t escape:
“You could have taken me.”
He didn’t answer.
Just cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek.
“Why didn’t you?” I asked, voice breaking.
“Because I’m not your enemy,” he said, voice rough. “And I’m not your monster.”
“Then what are you?”
He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear.
“I’m yours.”
And the bond—
It thrived.