It started with a tremor.
Not in the earth. Not in the wards. But in my hands.
I was in the War Chamber, reviewing the latest intelligence reports from the northern border, when it happened. A faint vibration in my right palm—like a nerve misfiring. I ignored it. At first. I’d spent decades mastering control, burying the instability of my hybrid nature beneath layers of discipline and power. The tremor was nothing. A glitch. A side effect of stress.
Then it spread.
Up my arm. Into my shoulder. A cold ripple beneath the skin, like ice cracking through veins. I clenched my fist. Tried to steady it. But the tremor deepened, becoming a shiver, then a spasm. My fangs throbbed. My vision flickered—gold bleeding into red, the wolf straining beneath my skin.
I stood. Too fast. The room tilted. I caught the edge of the table, my knuckles white, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The cold wasn’t just in my limbs now. It was in my chest. In my blood. In the core of me, where the bond with Parker pulsed like a second heartbeat.
Not now.
Not when the Council was fracturing. Not when Ravel was circling. Not when Parker was finally starting to believe me.
I forced myself to breathe. In. Out. Controlled. Precise. The way I’d been trained. The way I’d survived.
But the control was slipping.
The wolf snarled in my skull, demanding release. The vampire hissed, craving blood. And beneath it all—the bond—pulsing. Not with warmth. Not with connection.
With distance.
Parker wasn’t here.
She was in the training yard, according to Dain. Pushing herself. Punishing herself. For what? For the kiss? For the ritual? For the way her body had arched into mine when I touched her?
Good.
Let her fight. Let her rage. Let her hate me.
As long as she stayed alive.
I straightened. Took a step. Then another. My boots echoed against the stone, too loud, too slow. The corridor stretched before me, the torches flickering like dying stars. My vision blurred. The scent of blood-wine and old magic twisted in my nose, cloying, suffocating.
And then—
—the pain hit.
Like a blade through the spine. White-hot. Shattering.
I dropped to one knee, my hand slamming into the wall for support. My fangs extended, unbidden. My claws burst through my skin, tearing through the fabric of my coat. The wolf roared, demanding dominance. The vampire screamed, craving blood. And the bond—
It fractured.
Not broken. Not severed.
But weakening.
Because she wasn’t here.
And without her—
I was unraveling.
“Kael?”
Dain’s voice. Distant. Muffled.
I tried to answer. To rise. To command.
But my body wasn’t mine anymore.
My spine arched. My back hit the wall. My breath came in ragged gasps. The cold spread—into my lungs, my heart, my throat. I could feel it—the dual nature tearing me apart. The wolf wanted to shift. The vampire wanted to feed. And the man—
The man wanted her.
“Kael!”
Dain was beside me now, his hands on my shoulders, his wolf-gold eyes wide with fear. “What’s happening? Talk to me.”
I couldn’t.
My jaw clenched. My vision tunneled. The pain was everywhere—ripping through muscle, bone, blood. I could feel the transformation beginning—the shift, the hunger, the loss of control.
“Get Parker,” I managed, the words raw, broken. “Now.”
“She’s in the yard—”
“Now!”
Dain didn’t argue. He was gone in a blur of motion, his boots echoing down the corridor.
Alone.
Darkness pressed in. The torches flickered. The wards hummed, reacting to the surge of unstable power. I pressed my forehead to the cold stone, trying to ground myself. To breathe. To hold on.
But it was no use.
The hybrid instability—the flaw I’d hidden for years, the weakness that could get me killed—was finally breaking through. Without Parker, without the bond, I was feral. A monster. A thing to be destroyed.
And I couldn’t stop it.
Then—
—a voice.
“Kael.”
Soft. Sharp. Her.
I lifted my head. Through the blur of pain, I saw her. Parker. Storm-gray eyes blazing. Black tunic clinging to her frame. Blood on her knuckles from the dummies. She didn’t look afraid. Didn’t look uncertain.
She looked furious.
“What the hell is going on?” she demanded, stepping closer. “Dain said you collapsed.”
I tried to speak. To warn her. To push her away.
But the wolf snarled. My back arched. My fangs tore through my lip. Blood spilled, thick and hot.
“Stay back,” I growled, the words barely human.
She didn’t listen.
She dropped to her knees beside me, her hands on my arms. “Look at me. Look at me.”
I did.
And in her eyes—no fear. No pity. No hesitation.
Just fire.
“You’re not losing control,” she said, voice low, commanding. “You’re not turning feral. You’re fighting. And I’m not letting you die.”
“You can’t stop it,” I rasped. “The bond—it’s not strong enough. Not without—”
“Without what?”
“Without you.”
She stilled.
And then—
—she touched me.
Not on the arm. Not on the shoulder.
On the mark.
Her fingers pressed against the sigil above my heart—the twin to her own—burning gold beneath my skin. And the bond—
It flared.
Heat surged. Light exploded. Magic—crimson and storm—spiraled around us, binding us, claiming us. The pain didn’t vanish. The instability didn’t stop.
But I could breathe.
“You feel that?” she whispered, her fingers still on my chest. “That’s not just the bond. That’s us. Two halves becoming whole. And I’m not letting you fall.”
My breath caught.
“Now tell me what to do,” she said. “How do I stabilize you?”
I shook my head. “Blood magic. It’s dangerous. It could kill you.”
“Then I’ll die,” she snapped. “But I’m not watching you turn into a monster.”
My chest tightened.
“Fine,” I said, voice rough. “Cut your palm. Press it to my chest. Let your magic flow into me. But don’t pull back. Not until it’s done.”
She didn’t hesitate.
She pulled a dagger from her belt, sliced her palm in one clean motion, and pressed it to my chest, right over the sigil.
And the world exploded.
Her magic—crimson, wild, untamed—flooded into me, not like a river, but like a storm. It burned through my veins, searing away the cold, the pain, the fracture. I could feel it—her blood, her power, her life—pouring into me, harmonizing with my own. The bond flared white-hot, the sigils on our skin glowing like twin stars. The wolf stilled. The vampire quieted. And the man—
The man survived.
But it wasn’t just healing.
It was connection.
I could feel her—her fear, her anger, her resolve. Her memories. Her mother’s face. The flames. The vow. And beneath it all—
A longing so deep it ached.
For me.
“Parker,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
She didn’t answer.
Just pressed her hand harder, her blood mixing with mine, her magic binding us deeper than ever before.
And then—
—the door burst open.
Dain stood in the archway, his expression stunned. “The Council—”
“Not now,” I growled.
He didn’t argue. Just stepped back, closing the door.
Minutes passed. Or hours. Time didn’t matter. All that mattered was her hand on my chest, her blood in my veins, her magic in my soul.
And then—
—it was over.
The sigils dimmed. The magic settled. The pain receded.
She pulled her hand back, her palm still bleeding, her face pale, her breath shallow.
“Why save me?” I rasped, my voice raw. “After everything I’ve done? After what you think I let happen to your mother?”
She looked at me, her storm-gray eyes blazing. “Because I hate you too much to let you die.”
And I knew—
That was the truth.
Not just of the moment.
Of everything.
She didn’t save me because of the bond.
She saved me because she needed me.
And that changed everything.
I reached up, my hand trembling, and brushed the blood from her lip—where she’d bitten me during the kiss. “You’re bleeding.”
“So are you,” she said, but she didn’t pull away.
“Stay,” I said, voice low. “Just for a while. Let me feel you. Let me know you’re real.”
She hesitated. Then, slowly, she leaned in, resting her forehead against mine.
And for the first time in thirty-four years—
I didn’t feel alone.
“You’re not getting rid of me,” she whispered. “Not until I burn the Council to the ground.”
“Then burn it,” I said. “But do it with me.”
She didn’t answer.
Just stayed there, her breath mingling with mine, her blood on my skin, her magic in my veins.
And I knew—
The war wasn’t over.
But I wasn’t fighting it alone anymore.
And that was enough.