The fever started in my spine.
A slow, insidious burn, like molten lead poured into my bones. I woke in the armory, slumped against the weapons rack, my vision blurred, my breath ragged. The scent of steel and oil was thick in my lungs, but it did nothing to steady me. The pain was everywhere now—coiling around my ribs, tightening with every heartbeat, spreading through my blood like poison.
Bond sickness.
I’d known it was coming. Knew the Feral Contract would demand its due. But I’d thought I had more time. Thought I could hold it off—just long enough to reach her. To prove I wasn’t the monster she believed me to be. To show her I’d tear the world apart for her if she’d only let me.
I was wrong.
The sickness wasn’t just pain. It was hunger. A primal, clawing need that radiated from the mate-mark on my neck, pulsing like a second heartbeat. My fangs dropped. My claws tore through the leather grip of a dagger. My vision flickered between human and wolf, the world splitting into two—stone and shadow, scent and sound, her.
Ruby.
She was close. I could feel her—her presence, her scent, the steady drum of her pulse. She was in the Black Woods, in the rogue sanctuary, hidden behind illusion magic. Safe. Untouched. Mine.
And I couldn’t go to her.
Not like this.
Not when every instinct screamed to claim her, to bite, to breed, to take. The fever would strip me of control. Strip me of reason. And if I lost myself—if I hurt her—
No.
I wouldn’t.
I’d die first.
---
I dragged myself to my feet, my legs trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The armory spun. The weapons blurred. I needed air. Needed space. Needed to run.
But the bond pulled me back.
It pulsed beneath my skin, a live wire sparking with every beat of my heart, dragging me toward her, toward the fire, toward the truth I’d been denying since the moment the contract branded us.
She was my cure.
And my damnation.
---
I didn’t make it far.
Just to the edge of the keep, where the stone met the forest, where the mist curled around the roots like fingers. The wind hit me like a slap, sharp and clean, cutting through the haze in my mind. I gripped the gatepost, my claws sinking into the iron, my breath fogging in the air. Below, the Shadow Vale stretched into darkness, ancient pines swaying in the wind, the scent of pine and frost thick in my lungs. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled—long, mournful, like it was calling for something it could never have.
Like me.
I pressed my forehead to the cold metal, trying to steady my breath, trying to push the fever back. But it was too strong. Too deep. The pain flared, white-hot, unbearable. My knees buckled. I dropped to the stone, my body trembling, my vision flickering.
And then—
I felt it.
The bond.
Not just as a pull. Not just as a hunger.
As a scream.
It tore through me, raw and unfiltered, a psychic wail that wasn’t mine. It was hers. Ruby. She was awake. She was afraid. She was calling for me.
I tried to move. Tried to stand. But my body wouldn’t obey. The fever had me. The bond had me. And I was losing.
Then—
Footsteps.
Light. Fast. Familiar.
I turned my head, my vision blurred, my fangs bared. And there he was.
Silas.
Standing at the edge of the courtyard, his dark eyes sharp with worry. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t flinch. Just ran to me, dropped to his knees, and pressed his hands to my chest.
“Kaelen,” he whispered, his voice cracked, like the word was torn from him. “What’s happening?”
I couldn’t answer.
Just gasped, my body arching, my claws digging into the stone. The pain was everywhere now—ripping through my spine, coiling around my ribs, tightening with every breath. My fangs dropped. My vision flickered. And the bond—
It screamed for her.
“Bond sickness,” I managed, voice raw. “The contract—it’s demanding the bond be fulfilled.”
His breath hitched. His pulse flared beneath his skin. But he didn’t pull away. Just pressed his hands harder against my chest, his magic flaring beneath his fingertips—steady, calm, grounded.
“I can help,” he said, voice steady. “I can stabilize you.”
“No.” I grabbed his wrist, not to restrain, but to hold. “You don’t know what you’re offering. The sickness—it strips me of control. I could hurt you.”
“Then don’t let it.” He leaned in, his breath hot against my lips. “Fight it. For her.”
My chest tightened.
“I’m not strong enough,” I whispered.
“Yes, you are.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “You’re not your father. You’re not a monster. You’re the man who carried her through heat. Who washed her scars. Who kissed her like she was something sacred instead of a weapon.”
And then—
He did something I didn’t expect.
He slapped me.
Hard. Sharp. Real.
The sting cut through the haze, the pain grounding me, my vision clearing for a split second.
“Get up,” he growled. “She’s not waiting for a broken Alpha. She’s waiting for a man who’ll fight for her. So fight. Or die trying.”
And then—
I did.
Not because I wanted to.
But because I had to.
I dragged myself to my feet, my legs trembling, my breath ragged. The fever was still there—still burning, still screaming—but I pushed it down. Buried it. For her.
“She’s in the Black Woods,” Silas said, stepping beside me. “The rogue sanctuary. She’s safe. But you’re not. Not if you go to her like this.”
“I don’t care,” I said, voice rough. “I have to reach her.”
“Then shift,” he said. “Run as the wolf. Let him carry you. Let him protect you. But don’t go to her as a man. Not yet. Not until you can control it.”
I didn’t argue.
Just nodded.
And then—
I let go.
The shift came fast—bones cracking, muscles tearing, fur erupting from my skin. I dropped to all fours, my breath coming in heavy pants, my golden eyes blazing in the dark. The wolf was stronger. Faster. More in control. And right now, he was the only thing standing between me and the madness.
“Go,” Silas said, stepping back. “And don’t you dare come back without her.”
And I didn’t.
I ran.
---
The forest swallowed me whole.
Branches clawed at my fur. Roots twisted beneath my paws. 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 pull of the bond.
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 muscles coiled, my claws tearing through the earth. 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 arching, 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.