The dream didn’t fade with dawn.
It clung to me like smoke—Lira’s body beneath him, her back arched, her mouth open in ecstasy, his fangs buried in her throat. The way her fingers clawed at his shoulders. The way he growled her name. The way the mate-mark on her shoulder glowed, sealing her as his.
And me?
Watching.
Waiting.
Burning.
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.
Not for her.
For him.
The man who’d stood beside my mother’s execution. The Alpha who’d bound me against my will. The monster who’d kissed me on the rooftop and made me kiss him back.
And now?
Now I was jealous of a lie.
I threw off the covers, stumbled to the washbasin, splashed cold water on my face. My reflection stared back—dark circles under my eyes, lips still swollen from where I’d bitten them in the dream, the mark on my palm faintly glowing, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
Still there.
Still his.
“You’re not him,” I whispered to the mirror. “You’re not even his son. You’re just a weapon. A tool. A means to an end.”
But the bond didn’t care about my lies.
It pulsed. It pulled. It ached.
---
The keep was alive with whispers when I left my chambers.
Not the usual murmurs of court intrigue or political maneuvering—no, this was something darker. Something personal. Servants glanced at me and looked away. Betas stiffened as I passed. Even the torches seemed to dim as I walked, as if the castle itself knew I was tainted.
And I was.
Not by blood.
By desire.
“She’s here,” someone muttered. “The half-breed who thinks she’s worthy.”
“He’ll discard her like he did Lira,” another sneered. “No one keeps the Alpha’s interest for long.”
I kept walking.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t react.
But my magic hummed beneath my skin, fire flickering at my fingertips, ready to burn them all to ash.
Let them talk.
Let them doubt.
I wasn’t here to be loved.
I was here to destroy.
But then I saw him.
Kaelen.
Standing at the end of the hall, speaking with Silas, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable. He looked like a king—black leather, silver armor, the Dain crest carved into his chest plate. The mate-mark on his neck glowed faintly, pulsing in time with mine.
And then—
He looked at me.
Not with disdain.
Not with cold calculation.
With something else.
Something that made my breath catch.
Hunger.
Raw. Unchecked. Mine.
My body responded before my mind could stop it—heat flared low in my belly, my pulse spiked, my skin burned. The bond screamed, a live wire sparking between us, feeding on proximity, on tension, on the unspoken truth we both refused to name.
He saw it.
Of course he did.
His nostrils flared, scenting my arousal. A flicker in his eyes—satisfaction. Possession. Want.
Then he turned and walked away.
And I hated him.
And I wanted him.
And I didn’t know which was worse.
---
I avoided him the rest of the day.
Didn’t attend the war council. Didn’t respond to the summons. Instead, I trained—punching the heavy bag until my knuckles split, running the obstacle course until my lungs burned, practicing fire spells until the air crackled with heat.
Anything to burn off the ache.
Anything to forget the way his eyes had looked at me.
But it didn’t work.
The bond was stronger now. Sharper. Every time I thought of him, it pulsed, a constant reminder of what I was fighting. What I was losing.
And then, at dusk, Silas found me.
“He’s in the blood-ritual chamber,” he said, voice low. “Alone. Brooding. You should talk to him.”
“Why?” I snapped, wiping sweat from my brow. “So he can remind me I’m his prisoner? That I belong to him?”
“No.” Silas studied me. “So you can stop pretending you don’t feel it.”
“Feel what?”
“The bond. The pull. The truth.” He stepped closer. “You’re not just fighting him, Ruby. You’re fighting yourself. And if you don’t stop, you’ll lose everything.”
“I came here to destroy him.”
“And what if destroying him means destroying yourself?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know.
But I went anyway.
---
The blood-ritual chamber was deep in the keep, beneath the war room, accessible only by a narrow stone staircase lit with flickering torches. The air grew colder with every step, the scent of iron and old magic thick in my lungs. The door at the bottom was carved with ancient runes—Old Tongue, blood-oaths, binding spells. I hesitated, my hand on the handle.
Then I pushed it open.
The chamber was circular, the walls lined with black stone, the floor etched with a massive sigil—the same one that had activated the Feral Contract. At the center, a silver basin burned with blue flame. And there, standing before it, was Kaelen.
He wasn’t in armor.
He wasn’t in command.
He was barefoot. Shirtless. His dark hair loose around his shoulders, his back to me, muscles taut, scars gleaming in the firelight. The mate-mark on his neck pulsed, faint but steady.
He didn’t turn.
“I felt you coming,” he said, voice rough. “The bond always knows.”
“Maybe it’s broken,” I said, stepping inside. “Maybe it’s lying.”
He turned slowly.
And for the first time, I saw it—really saw it.
Not the Alpha.
Not the monster.
The man.
His golden eyes were shadowed, his jaw tight, his breath uneven. He looked… frayed. Like he hadn’t slept. Like he’d been fighting a war no one else could see.
“You think I’d lie to you about this?” he asked, voice low. “You think I’d let you feel something that wasn’t real?”
“You’re not capable of truth,” I snapped. “You’re a Dain. Your bloodline is built on lies.”
“And yet,” he said, stepping closer, “you’re still here.”
“Because I have no choice.”
“You always have a choice.” He closed the distance between us, until his breath brushed my lips. “You could have run. You could have fought. You could have killed me in my sleep. But you didn’t.”
“Because the bond would have killed me.”
“No.” His hand rose, fingers brushing my cheek. “Because you wanted to see if I was telling the truth.”
I flinched, but I didn’t pull away.
His touch was warm. Gentle. Human.
“Lira,” I said, voice breaking. “She said you marked her. That you promised her—”
“She’s lying,” he said, hand tightening on my face. “I never marked her. Never promised her anything. She was a distraction. A weakness. And when I refused to bind myself to her, she turned on me.”
“And the memory? The bite mark? The ring?”
“Glamour. Illusion. Stolen scents.” He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “The only woman I’ve ever wanted to mark is standing in front of me. And she’s too stubborn to see it.”
My breath caught.
“You don’t want me,” I whispered. “You want control. Power. Legacy.”
“I want you.” His voice dropped, rough, dark. “Not because of the bond. Not because of duty. But because you’re the only one who’s ever looked at me and seen the monster—and stayed.”
My heart stuttered.
And then—
I saw it.
Not in the mirrors.
Not in a memory.
But in the flesh.
Behind him, in the shadows of the chamber—
Lira.
Wearing his shirt.
Her lips red. Her hair tangled. Her skin glowing with the afterglow of sex.
And on her neck?
A fresh bite mark.
Still bleeding.
Still his.
My vision went red.
“You liar!” I screamed, shoving him back. “You said she was lying! You said it wasn’t real!”
He turned—saw her—and snarled, a sound so feral it made the torches flicker.
“Get out,” he growled, fangs bared. “Or I’ll tear you apart.”
Lira just smiled, slow and sharp. “You already did, darling. Three nights. Three promises. And now?” She traced the bite mark with her fingertip. “Now the whole court will know the truth.”
“She’s not real,” Kaelen said, turning back to me, voice urgent. “It’s glamour. Illusion. She’s using magic to—”
“Shut up!” I slapped him—hard—across the face. “I saw her! I smell her on you! You think I’m that stupid? That blind?”
“Ruby—”
“No!” I backed up, tears burning my eyes. “You’re just like your father. A liar. A murderer. A monster who uses women and throws them away.”
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t!” I pressed my hands to my ears. “I don’t want to hear your lies. I don’t want to feel this. I don’t want to want you!”
And then—
He was on me.
One moment, I was standing.
The next, I was pinned against the wall, his body caging mine, his hands gripping my wrists, his breath hot against my lips.
“You don’t get to run,” he growled. “You don’t get to leave.”
“Let me go!” I struggled, but he was too strong. Too real.
“You think I’d do this to you?” His voice was raw. “You think I’d betray you like that? After everything?”
“You already have!”
“Then why does the bond still burn?” He pressed closer, his thigh sliding between mine. “Why does your magic flare when I touch you? Why does your body tremble?”
And it did.
Heat—white-hot, unbearable—exploded between us, coiling low in my belly, tightening with every breath. My magic surged, fire flickering at my fingertips. His eyes flared gold. His fangs dropped. His grip tightened.
“You’re jealous,” he whispered, voice rough. “And you hate it.”
“I hate you!”
“Liar.” He leaned in, his lips brushing mine. “You hate that you want me. That you need me. That you’re mine.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not gentle.
Not sweet.
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 body was on fire, every nerve alight, every instinct screaming mate, survive, want.
His hands slid into my hair, holding me in place, deepening the kiss. His thigh pressed between mine, rubbing against the ache I’d been fighting for days. I moaned, the sound muffled against his lips, my hips rocking forward before I could stop myself.
And then—
I bit him.
Hard.
My fangs sank into his lower lip, blood welling, metallic and hot. He growled—low, furious—but didn’t pull away. 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 lips. Fire in his eyes. Me.
“I hate you,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
But my hand stayed on his chest.
And the bond—
It screamed.