The next morning, I woke with fire in my blood and a name on my tongue.
Nyx.
Not Kaelen. Not Maeve. Not even vengeance.
Nyx.
The Fae lord who’d sent hunters to slaughter hybrids in the sanctuary. The coward who’d hidden behind mercenaries and silver blades. The one who thought he could touch what was mine and walk away unscathed.
I sat up slowly, the furs slipping from my shoulders, the cold mountain air biting my skin. The other side of the bed was untouched—Kaelen hadn’t returned. Again. No note. No warning. Just silence. Like he expected me to wait. Like he thought I’d stay.
But I wasn’t waiting.
I wasn’t staying.
I was hunting.
I dressed quickly—black trousers, fitted tunic, boots laced tight. Practical. Unassuming. No finery. No silks. No more playing the betrothed. Today, I was a leader. Not of vengeance. But of justice.
And I wasn’t going to let Nyx—or anyone else—think they could come for my people and live.
---
The keep was quiet when I stepped into the hall.
Most still asleep. The torches burning low. But in the war room, I could smell it—coffee, parchment, the faint metallic tang of power.
He was already awake.
And he was waiting.
For me.
And for the war that was coming.
But I didn’t go to him.
Didn’t need his permission. Didn’t need his orders. I slipped through the servant’s passage, down the narrow stone steps, past the kitchens, and out into the predawn mist.
The forest loomed ahead—ancient pines, thick underbrush, shadows that moved when you weren’t looking. The Shadow Vale wasn’t just a political enclave. It was a living thing—wild, untamed, dangerous. And I knew every path, every trap, every hidden glade.
I moved silently, my boots barely making a sound on the damp earth. My magic hummed beneath my skin, fire flickering at my fingertips, ready. The bond pulsed beneath my ribs—steady, quiet, but there. He was there. Not in the forest. Not at my side.
But close.
Too close.
I pushed the thought away. Focused on the scent. The blood. The threat.
And then I saw it.
Not a body.
A trail.
Blood on the leaves. Footprints in the mud. Human. Male. Not one. Three. Maybe four. Hunters. Mercenaries. The kind who’d sell their souls for a bag of silver or a vial of enchanted blood.
And they were heading deeper into the forest.
Toward the rogue sanctuary.
My breath caught.
Silas’s hidden refuge. The place where hybrid outcasts, runaways, and rebels gathered. The place where I’d learned the truth about my mother. The place where I’d found my purpose.
And now?
Now they were coming for it.
For them.
I didn’t hesitate.
I ran.
---
The forest swallowed me whole.
Branches clawed at my clothes. Roots twisted beneath my feet. The mist thickened, turning the world gray, the trees looming like ghosts. My heart pounded, my breath came fast, but I didn’t slow. Didn’t stop. Just pushed forward, following the scent, the blood, the growing sense of dread in my gut.
And then—
I heard it.
Not a scream.
A snarl.
Low. Feral. Wolf.
And then—
A howl.
Not from the hunters.
From one of us.
I broke into a sprint, my magic flaring, fire dancing at my fingertips. The bond pulsed, stronger now, responding to my fear, my rage, my need to protect. I didn’t care if they saw me. Didn’t care if they knew I was coming. Let them know. Let them fear it.
And then—
I saw them.
Four men. Human. Armed with silver-tipped blades, enchanted nets, vials of wolfsbane. They were surrounded by three hybrids—one Beta, one Omega, one youngling barely out of training. Blood stained the leaves. One of the hunters was down, throat torn out. Another was holding a net, aiming for the Omega. The third was circling the youngling, knife raised.
And the fourth?
He was aiming a crossbow at the Beta.
My magic exploded.
Fire roared from my hands, arcing through the air like a whip, slamming into the hunter with the net. He screamed as the flames engulfed him, the enchanted fibers burning to ash. The Omega didn’t hesitate—lunged forward, fangs bared, and tore into his throat.
The hunter with the knife turned—saw me—snarled.
“Half-breed!” he spat. “You’re worth double alive!”
I didn’t answer.
Just threw another fireball—this one aimed at his legs. He went down screaming, the silver blade clattering from his hand. The youngling didn’t wait—pounced, claws out, and silenced him.
And then—
Only two left.
The one with the crossbow.
And the one with the silver blade.
They turned to me, eyes wide with fear, with greed, with the kind of hatred that only comes from men who think monsters are fair game.
“You’re not taking them,” I said, voice low, rough.
“We’ll take you too,” the one with the blade sneered. “Bounty on hybrids. Double for a witch-blood.”
I smiled.
Not kindly.
“Try it.”
They did.
The crossbow fired.
I didn’t dodge.
Just raised my hand—fire erupted from my palm, melting the bolt mid-air. The second hunter lunged, silver blade aimed at my heart.
I stepped aside—grabbed his wrist—twisted.
Bone snapped. He screamed.
I didn’t stop.
Kicked his knee—heard it crack—spun, drove my elbow into his temple. He went down hard, the silver blade skittering across the leaves.
And then—
I turned to the last one.
The crossbow was empty. He was backing up, hands up, eyes wide.
“Please,” he begged. “I didn’t know—”
“You knew,” I said, stepping closer. “You knew what you were hunting. You knew what you were killing.”
“We were just following orders!”
“And who gave them?” I grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground. “Who sent you here? Who wants us dead?”
He choked, clawing at my hand. “I don’t know! A Fae noble! Paid in blood and gold!”
Fae.
Not Veylan.
Not Lira.
But someone in his circle.
Someone who wanted the sanctuary gone.
Someone who wanted me gone.
“You’re lying,” I snarled.
“I swear!” he gasped. “I don’t know who! Just a name—*Nyx*. That’s all I know!”
Nyx.
A minor Fae lord. Ambitious. Cruel. The kind who’d sell his own mother for power.
And now he was hunting hybrids.
I tightened my grip.
His face turned purple.
His eyes bulged.
And then—
A growl.
Low. Dangerous. Familiar.
I turned.
And there he was.
Kaelen.
Not in armor. Not in command.
In his skin.
Golden eyes glowing, fangs bared, muscles coiled, his scent rolling off him like smoke—male, Alpha, mine. He stood at the edge of the clearing, the mist curling around him like a shroud, his gaze locked onto mine.
And then—
He looked at the hunter in my grip.
And his lip curled.
“Drop him,” he said, voice rough.
“He was sent by Nyx,” I said. “To kill the hybrids. To destroy the sanctuary.”
“Then let me handle it.” He stepped forward, his presence filling the clearing, the other hybrids instinctively stepping back, bowing their heads. “He’s not yours to kill.”
“He’s not yours either.” I held his gaze, my grip tightening. “He came for them. For us.”
“And I’ll make sure he never does again.” He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, the pull of the bond. “But not like this. Not with your hands on his throat.”
“Why not?” I snapped. “He deserves to die.”
“And he will.” His voice dropped, rough, dark. “But not by your hand. Not while you’re still fighting the bond. Not while you’re still pretending you don’t need me.”
My breath caught.
“I don’t need you,” I whispered.
“Liar.” He reached up, his fingers brushing my cheek. “You need me. And I need you. And if you keep pretending otherwise, you’ll get someone killed.”
And then—
He took the hunter from me.
Not gently.
One hand around his throat, the other gripping his arm. The man screamed, thrashing, but Kaelen didn’t flinch. Just lifted him off the ground, turned, and threw him into a tree.
There was a sickening crack.
The hunter didn’t move.
Kaelen didn’t check.
Just turned back to me, his golden eyes blazing.
“You could have gotten yourself killed,” he growled.
“I had it under control.”
“No.” He stepped closer, caging me against a tree, his body pressing into mine, his breath hot against my lips. “You were reckless. Angry. Blind. And if I hadn’t followed you—”
“You followed me?”
“Of course I did.” His hand slid to my waist, holding me in place. “The bond flared. I felt your fear. Your rage. Your *need*.”
My breath hitched.
“I don’t need you,” I whispered.
“Liar.” He leaned in, his lips brushing mine. “You need me. And I’m not letting you forget it.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not soft.
Not slow.
Hard. Desperate. Angry.
His mouth crashed into mine, teeth scraping, tongue demanding. I gasped, arching into him, my hands flying to his chest—pushing or pulling, I didn’t know. My magic surged, fire flickering at my fingertips, but he didn’t flinch. Just kissed me harder, deeper, until we were both breathless, both trembling, both ruined.
And then—
He broke the kiss.
Stared at me.
Blood on his lip. Fire in his eyes. Me.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “And I don’t share.”
---
The hybrids didn’t speak as we walked back to the keep.
The Beta carried the dead hunter’s body. The Omega supported the injured youngling. The others followed in silence, their heads bowed, their scents laced with fear, with awe, with something else—respect.
For me.
For him.
For the bond.
Kaelen walked beside me, his hand resting on the small of my back, his presence a constant hum beneath my skin. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. The message was clear.
I wasn’t just a half-breed.
I wasn’t just a weapon.
I was his.
And he wasn’t letting go.
When we reached the keep, Silas was waiting at the gate.
“I felt it,” he said, voice low. “The bond flared. You were in danger.”
“We handled it,” I said, brushing past him.
“*He* handled it,” Silas corrected, watching Kaelen. “You fought. He protected.”
“I didn’t need protection.”
“No.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “But you’ll take it. Because he’s not just your Alpha. He’s your mate. And he’ll tear the world apart before he lets anything happen to you.”
I didn’t answer.
Just walked inside.
But I felt it.
The truth.
The weight.
The danger.
---
Kaelen didn’t follow me to my chambers.
Didn’t try to command. Didn’t try to control.
Just sent a servant with clean clothes, a basin of warm water, and a message:
“You’re not alone in this. And you’re not weak for needing me.”
I threw the note into the fire.
But I kept the clothes.
And I let the servant wash my back.
---
That night, I dreamed of him.
Not in the forest.
Not in battle.
In bed.
Naked. Sweating. Inside me. His hands on my hips, his golden eyes locked onto mine, his fangs bared, his breath ragged. The room was dim, lit only by flickering torchlight, the air thick with the scent of pine, smoke, and him. My name was a growl on his lips, a prayer, a curse. And every time he moved, every time he thrust into me, the bond screamed—a live wire sparking beneath my skin, feeding on proximity, on pleasure, on the unspoken truth we both refused to name.
“Ruby,” he groaned, his voice rough, dark, real. “Look at me.”
I did.
And the moment our eyes met, something inside me shattered.
Not with pain.
With pleasure.
White-hot, electric, unbearable. My back arched, my head thrown back, a cry tearing from my throat as the orgasm ripped through me, wave after wave of it, so intense it felt like death. And still, I didn’t stop. Still, I rode him, my hips grinding, my core clenching, my magic flaring at my fingertips, fire dancing across my skin.
And then—
I woke.
Gasping. Shaking. Soaked in sweat, my hand between my thighs, fingers slick, breath ragged. My heart pounded like a war drum, my skin burned, my magic surged beneath my skin, responding to something I couldn’t name. The bond pulsed beneath my ribs—steady, insistent, hungry—but he wasn’t here. The other side of the bed was cold, the furs untouched. He’d stayed in the war room, finalizing plans, preparing for the war he knew was coming.
And I was alone.
Alone with the memory of a dream that hadn’t happened.
Alone with the truth I couldn’t escape.
I wasn’t just afraid of losing myself.
I was afraid of wanting to.
---
The next morning, I found him in the training yard.
He was shirtless, sweat-slicked, his muscles taut as he sparred with two Betas at once. His movements were fluid, lethal, every strike precise, every block perfect. The Betas were fast, strong, experienced—but they were no match for him. He moved like a storm, a force of nature, his golden eyes blazing, his fangs bared in a snarl.
And then—
He saw me.
And he stopped.
Just like that.
One moment, he was in motion.
The next, he was still, his gaze locked onto mine, his chest rising and falling, his scent rolling off him—male, Alpha, dangerous.
“You’re early,” he said, voice rough.
“So are you.”
He dismissed the Betas with a nod, then walked toward me, his boots silent on the stone. “You didn’t sleep.”
“Neither did you.”
“I dream of you,” he said, stepping closer. “Of your hands on my skin. Your mouth on my neck. Your body beneath mine.”
My breath caught.
“You’ve been in my dreams too,” I whispered.
“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. “—inside 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 kissed me.
Not desperate.
Not angry.
Soft. Slow. Sure.
His lips brushed mine, gentle, reverent, like he was afraid I’d break. I didn’t pull away. Didn’t fight. Just let him—let him claim me, let him hold me, let him choose me.
And when he pulled back, his forehead still resting against mine, his breath still warm against my lips, I whispered the truth I could no longer deny:
“You’re not him.”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t gloat. Just held my gaze, his golden eyes softening. “No. I’m not.”
“But you’re still his son.”
“And I’ll carry that guilt for the rest of my life.” He pressed a kiss to my temple. “But I won’t repeat his sins. I won’t uphold his lies. I’ll tear this world down if I have to—just to prove I’m not him.”
My chest tightened.
And then—
I kissed him.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of heat.
But because I wanted to.
Because I needed to.
Because for the first time in my life—
I wasn’t fighting alone.
And the bond—
It burned.
Feral Contract
The first time Ruby sees Kaelen Dain, he’s standing over a ritual fire, his bare chest slick with ash and blood, eyes glowing gold as he speaks the Old Tongue. She’s hidden in the shadows, a dagger at her thigh, ready to slit his throat—until the ancient sigil beneath the temple floor ignites, searing her palm with the same mark that brands his neck. The Feral Contract has awakened. Centuries ago, her ancestor swore fealty to the Dain bloodline in exchange for survival. Now, the magic demands reclamation: a bonded heir, or war between the packs.
Ruby doesn’t believe in fate. She believes in revenge.
But the contract doesn’t care.
Within days, she’s declared his betrothed, paraded before the Lunar Court in a gown slit to the hip, whispers chasing her: Half-breed. Servant. Whore. Kaelen watches her with cold disdain—until their hands touch during a moonbinding rite, and the air crackles with heat so thick it steals her breath. That night, she dreams of his mouth on her throat, his fangs breaking skin, and wakes trembling, her thighs slick with need.
She came to destroy him. But when a rival claims he spent the night in her bed, wearing his bite mark like a trophy, Ruby feels a surge of jealousy so violent it terrifies her. The contract isn’t just magic. It’s a trap—one that ties their bodies, their power, and their souls together. And if they don’t play their parts, the entire supernatural world will bleed.
But if they do… she might lose her mission. And her heart.