The Obsidian Spire rose from the Highlands like a fang of ancient stone, its blackened spires clawing at the bruised twilight sky. I stood at the edge of the mist-laced clearing, breath curling in white wisps, fingers tightening around the silver sigil pendant hidden beneath my coat. Ten years. Ten years of silence, of hiding, of carving power from pain and blood and the echoes of my mother’s last scream. And now, here I was—back at the heart of the lie.
The wind carried the scent of damp earth, iron, and something deeper—something primal. Werewolf musk. Vampire decay. Fae glamour, sweet and cloying beneath the surface. My skin prickled. I wasn’t just returning to a fortress. I was walking into a den of predators, each one sharper, stronger, older than me. And at its center sat the monster I’d come to destroy.
Kael Virell.
High Arbiter. Hybrid. The only being in recorded history to hold the thirteenth seat on the Council—a secret power, an illegal dominion. The man who, by silence or complicity, allowed my mother to be burned alive for a crime she didn’t commit.
I adjusted the diplomatic insignia on my lapel—forged, like everything else about me. My name wasn’t really Elise Renner, neutral envoy from the Northern Covens. My name was Parker Voss. And I was here to burn the Council to the ground.
The iron gates groaned open before I reached them. No guards stopped me. No challenges. Just the slow, deliberate parting of the way, as if the Spire itself recognized the storm walking through its doors.
Inside, the air was thick with magic and tension. Marble floors stretched beneath vaulted ceilings carved with runes that pulsed faintly—wards, binding spells, surveillance sigils. I kept my expression neutral, my steps measured. To my left, a pair of werewolves in ceremonial leathers stood rigid, eyes tracking me with predatory stillness. To my right, a vampire noble in a blood-red gown sipped from a crystal goblet, her fangs glinting as she smiled. I didn’t flinch. I’d spent years learning to wear masks. This one—calm, detached, slightly bored—was my best.
The Council Hall loomed ahead, its double doors etched with the sigils of the four species. My pulse didn’t quicken. My breath didn’t hitch. I was ice. I was fire. I was vengeance wrapped in silk.
Then the doors opened.
And I saw him.
Kael Virell stood at the head of the chamber, backlit by the dying sun filtering through stained glass. Tall. Impossibly still. His coat was black, tailored to perfection, but it couldn’t hide the coiled strength beneath—the broad shoulders, the lethal grace of a predator who didn’t need to move to be feared. His hair was dark, cut sharp at the jaw, and his eyes—
His eyes locked onto mine.
And the world exploded.
White-hot fire tore through my chest, searing down my spine, lancing into my bones. I gasped, stumbling forward, one hand flying to my collarbone where a brand I’d never felt before burned like molten iron. My vision blurred. The room tilted. I heard shouts, the scrape of chairs, the rush of feet—but none of it mattered. All I knew was the pain. The pull. The terrifying, undeniable sense that something inside me had just snapped into place.
And then he was there.
Strong arms caught me before I hit the floor. One hand gripped my waist, the other cradled the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair. I looked up, dazed, into eyes that weren’t just watching me now—they were *recognizing* me. Gold-flecked, wolf-bright, rimmed with the cold depth of a vampire’s gaze. Kael Virell’s face was inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin, his scent flooding my senses—smoke, frost, and something wild, untamed, like the heart of a storm.
“You’re mine,” he whispered.
The words weren’t loud. They weren’t meant for the room. They were a breath, a claim, a dark promise pressed against my ear.
And in that moment, with his body holding mine, his voice in my blood, I knew two things with absolute certainty:
One—this man had no idea who I really was.
And two—I was going to kill him.
I shoved against his chest, hard, using the last of my strength to break free. He let me go, but only just. I staggered back, heart hammering, hand still pressed to my collarbone. The pain had lessened, but the mark—whatever it was—still pulsed beneath my fingers, warm and alive.
“What the hell was that?” I demanded, voice steady despite the tremor in my limbs.
Kael didn’t answer. He studied me, his expression unreadable, but his gaze dropped to my hand, then to the hollow of my throat. “You felt it,” he said. Not a question. A statement.
“Felt what?”
“The bond.”
The word landed like a blade. *Bond.* Soul bond. Fated. I’d heard the legends—witches and seers whispering of twin sigils, of connections written in blood before birth. Impossible. Forbidden. And yet—
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I snapped, forcing disdain into my tone. “I’m here on Council business, not to play games with hybrids.”
A ripple went through the room. Several werewolves growled. A vampire’s eyes flashed red. Kael didn’t react. He took a slow step forward, and the room fell silent.
“You felt it,” he repeated. “And you’re lying.”
His voice was low, dangerous. But beneath it—something else. Interest. Hunger. Not for blood. For *me.*
I straightened, lifting my chin. “I’m Elise Renner, envoy of the Northern Covens. I’m here to observe the summit and report back. Nothing more.”
He smiled. It didn’t touch his eyes. “No. You’re not.”
He moved faster than I expected. One moment he was three feet away. The next, his hand was on my wrist, his grip unbreakable. Cold. Possessive.
“You’re Parker Voss,” he said, voice a velvet threat. “Daughter of Elara. The girl who vanished the night her mother died.”
My blood turned to ice.
He *knew.*
But that wasn’t possible. I’d been careful. I’d erased every trace. I’d—
“And you,” he continued, his thumb pressing into the pulse point of my wrist, “are now under my protection.”
“I don’t need your protection,” I hissed, trying to yank my arm free. His grip didn’t budge.
“No,” he agreed, leaning in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You need my attention. And you’ve had it since the moment you stepped through those doors.”
Heat flooded my face. Not from embarrassment. From rage. From the maddening, traitorous throb of the mark beneath my skin, responding to his nearness like a starving thing.
“Let. Me. Go.”
“Or what?” he murmured. “You’ll fight me? In front of the Council? With that little spark of blood magic you think I can’t feel?”
My breath caught.
He could sense it. My magic. The forbidden power I’d spent a decade mastering—the power drawn from pain, from sacrifice, from the very blood in my veins.
He knew more than he should.
And worse—he wasn’t afraid.
“You don’t know me,” I said, forcing my voice to stay level. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
His smile deepened. “Oh, I think I do. And I think you’re exactly what this Council needs.”
“I’m not here to help you.”
“No,” he said, finally releasing my wrist. “You’re here to destroy me.”
The air stilled. Even the torches seemed to dim.
He knew. He *knew.*
And yet—he wasn’t ordering my execution. He wasn’t having me thrown into the dungeons.
He was watching me like I was a puzzle he intended to solve. Like I was a weapon he meant to wield.
“You’re wrong,” I lied.
“Am I?” He stepped back, straightening his coat. “Then consider this your official assignment, *Parker*.” The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. “You’ll serve as my advisor for the duration of the summit. You’ll attend every session. You’ll have access to all non-classified records.”
My mind raced. Access. That was what I needed. Proof. The real execution order. The forged testimony. If I could get to the archives—
“Why?” I asked, suspicion sharpening my voice. “Why me?”
“Because the bond demands it,” he said simply. “And because I want to see what you’ll do with the power I’m giving you.”
He turned, addressing the Council. “This session is adjourned. Parker Voss is now under my direct authority. Harm her, and you answer to me.”
No one argued.
As the members filed out, casting me wary, curious, or outright hostile glances, Kael turned back to me. His gaze was unreadable, but his voice, when he spoke, was soft. Dangerous.
“You came here to burn me, Parker,” he said. “But fire doesn’t destroy the storm. It becomes part of it.”
He reached out, not touching me this time, but his fingers hovering near the mark on my collarbone. “And you, little witch, are already caught in the wind.”
Then he walked away, leaving me standing in the center of the chamber, my heart pounding, my mark burning, and one thought screaming through my mind:
No. I’m going to kill you.
Fury’s Claim
Ten years ago, a young witch girl watched her mother burn at the stake—her crime: conspiring with the Fae to overthrow the Supernatural Council. The girl, Parker, vanished into the human world, raised by ghosts and grudges. Now she returns—older, sharper, armed with forbidden blood magic and a single vow: justice or annihilation.
She infiltrates the Council’s summit under the guise of a neutral envoy, ready to expose the forged evidence that condemned her mother. But the moment her gaze locks with Kael Virell—the half-vampire, half-werewolf High Arbiter and de facto ruler of the Council—a searing pain tears through her chest. A mark, long hidden beneath her collarbone, flares to life: a twin sigil, mirroring his own. A soul bond. Fated. Impossible. Forbidden.
Their first touch is violence—his hand around her wrist, her magic lashing out—but the spark between them is undeniable, a current of heat and memory that neither can deny. He suspects her. She despises him. Yet the bond forces proximity, forces sensation: his scent on her skin, her pulse under his thumb, the way their magic harmonizes when they fight side by side during a surprise attack.
By Chapter 8, a rival’s cruel revelation—that Kael once shared blood with a seductive vampire noble—ignites Parker’s jealousy in a storm of magic and fury. In the aftermath, cornered in a ruined temple, he pins her against a crumbling altar, breath hot on her neck, fingers tangled in her hair. “You feel it,” he growls. “You want me as much as I want you.” She slaps him. Then she kisses him—a desperate, furious collision of lips and teeth—before pulling back, trembling. The bond isn’t just real. It’s rewriting her mission. And she doesn’t know if she’s falling for him… or being used.