The Obsidian Spire didn’t sleep. It *watched.*
Even at this hour—just past midnight, the moon a sliver of bone-white in the cloud-choked sky—the fortress hummed with quiet tension. The wards pulsed beneath my feet like a slow, steady heartbeat. The wind howled through the high towers, carrying whispers from the lower levels: the clink of chains from the vampire blood bars, the low growl of werewolves on patrol, the faint, melodic laughter of Fae revelers lost in their own pleasure houses. This place was a beast, and I was walking its spine, one careful step at a time.
I’d spent the last two hours going over the file. Again. And again. The execution order. The directive to “neutralize” me. Maeve’s name, scrawled in the margin like a secret vow. I’d memorized every line, every signature, every damning word. This was it. The proof. The beginning of the end for Ravel. For the Council.
And yet—
My hands still trembled.
Not from fear. Not from rage.
From *him.*
Kael.
His touch still burned on my skin. The memory of his body against mine in the Chamber of Veins—hard, relentless, *alive*—played behind my eyes like a cursed vision. I could still feel the calluses on his fingers, the heat of his palm between my shoulder blades, the way my hips had instinctively arched back into his when he pulled me against him. I could still hear his voice, rough and low in my ear: *“Your body knows the truth.”*
And it did.
That was the worst part. My magic responded to his. My pulse jumped when he entered a room. My breath caught when he looked at me. Even now, with the file tucked beneath my pillow and vengeance within reach, my mark pulsed faintly beneath my collarbone—a constant, traitorous reminder that I was bound to the one man I was supposed to destroy.
I stood at the window, staring out at the mist-wreathed moors. My reflection stared back—pale, sharp-featured, eyes shadowed with exhaustion and something darker. Something uncertain.
“You’re losing focus,” I whispered to myself.
But the truth was, I wasn’t losing focus.
I was *gaining* one.
A new one. A dangerous one.
The bond wasn’t just a chain. It was a current, pulling me toward him whether I wanted it or not. And every time I fought it, it pulled harder.
I needed to move. To act. To remind myself who I was.
I pulled on my boots, strapped the silver dagger to my thigh, and slipped the vial of blood-charm poison into my sleeve. The sigil-stone went into my pocket, cool and reassuring. Then I left my room, moving through the silent corridors with the precision of a shadow.
Kael’s chambers were in the central tower, guarded by two werewolf sentries—Alphas, by the look of their thick, scarred necks and the way they carried themselves. They didn’t stop me. Didn’t even speak. Just stepped aside as I approached the heavy oak doors, their eyes tracking me with wary respect.
I didn’t knock.
I turned the handle and walked in.
The room was vast—high ceilings, black stone walls lined with ancient tapestries depicting battles between wolves and vampires. A massive hearth crackled with blue flame, its light dancing across a long table covered in scrolls, maps, and sealed dossiers. To the right, a balcony overlooked the northern cliffs. To the left—
—a bed.
And on that bed—
—*her.*
Lira.
She lay sprawled across the black silk sheets, one leg bent, the other stretched out, her bare foot dangling off the edge. She wore nothing but a man’s shirt—*Kael’s* shirt. The sleeves were rolled to her elbows, the buttons undone just enough to reveal the smooth curve of her breasts, the pale column of her throat. Her hair fanned out like spilled ink, and her red eyes gleamed as she turned her head toward me.
“Parker,” she purred. “How… *prompt* of you.”
My blood turned to ice.
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there, my fingers tightening around the dagger at my thigh.
“Looking for Kael?” she continued, stretching like a cat. “He’s not here. But he *was.*” She lifted a hand, trailing a finger down her neck, stopping just above her pulse. “He was here all night. And *very* attentive.”
The lie was so bold, so vicious, that for a second, I believed it.
My magic flared—uncontrolled, raw. The candles on the table snuffed out. The fire in the hearth roared, then died to embers. The air crackled with static, the wards in the walls humming in protest.
Lira smiled. “Ah. So it *does* affect you.”
“You’re lying,” I said, voice low, steady. “Kael wouldn’t touch you.”
“Wouldn’t he?” She sat up slowly, the shirt slipping off one shoulder. “You think you know him? You think that *bond* gives you some kind of claim?” She laughed, sharp and cruel. “He used me. He *fed* from me. He *begged* for me. And when he’s done with you—when your magic stops stabilizing his wretched hybrid body—he’ll come crawling back.”
“He doesn’t need you.”
“No.” She stood, stepping off the bed, the shirt barely covering her thighs. “But he *wanted* me. And he’ll want me again. Because you?” She circled me slowly, her scent—blood and roses—filling the air. “You’re a weapon. A tool. A temporary fix. He doesn’t *desire* you. He doesn’t *crave* you. He doesn’t *burn* for you like he did for me.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” She stopped in front of me, close enough that I could see the hunger in her eyes. Not for blood. For *power.* For *hurt.* “He spent the night here, Parker. In this bed. With *me.*” She reached out, not touching me, but her fingers hovering near my collarbone, where the mark burned beneath my skin. “And when he wakes up, he’ll come back to me. Because you?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re just a means to an end.”
My breath came fast. My heart pounded. My magic surged, wild and uncontrolled, pressing against my skin like it wanted to tear free.
And then—
—the door opened.
Kael stood in the archway, backlit by the torchlight of the corridor. Tall. Impossibly still. His coat was gone, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, his jaw set in that cold, unreadable line. His eyes—gold-flecked, wolf-bright—locked onto mine.
And then they dropped to Lira.
“Get out,” he said, voice flat.
Lira didn’t flinch. Just smiled, slow and venomous. “Good morning, Kael. Did you sleep well?”
“I said *get out.*”
She turned to me, her red eyes gleaming. “You hear that, little witch? He’s not even denying it.” Then, to Kael: “I’ll be in my chambers. If you need… *comfort.*”
She brushed past him, her gown swirling like blood in water, and disappeared into the corridor.
Silence.
The fire in the hearth flickered back to life, casting long, dancing shadows across the room. The wards hummed, settling. But the tension—
—the tension was worse than before.
Kael stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He didn’t look at me. Just walked to the table, picked up a scroll, and unrolled it with sharp, angry movements.
“You let her wear your shirt,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.
He didn’t answer.
“You let her *lie* about you.”
Still nothing.
“Did you sleep with her?” The words tore out of me, raw, unbidden. “Did you *feed* from her? Did you—”
“No.”
One word. Cold. Final.
But it wasn’t enough.
“Then why?” I demanded, stepping forward. “Why let her do this? Why let her humiliate me? Why let her *use* you to hurt me?”
He finally looked at me. His eyes were dark, unreadable. “Because it doesn’t matter what she says.”
“It matters to *me.*”
He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. “You think I don’t know what she’s doing? You think I don’t see the game?” He reached out, not touching me, but his fingers hovering near my mark. “She wants you to doubt. To hate. To pull away. Because if you do—”
“You die.”
“And so do you.” He stepped even closer, until his breath brushed my skin. “But that’s not why I stopped her.”
“Then why?”
“Because you’re *mine.*” His voice dropped to a growl. “And I don’t share.”
Heat flooded my face. Not from anger. From something deeper. Something hotter.
“You don’t own me.”
“No.” His hand lifted, his thumb brushing the edge of my jaw. “But you want me to.”
My breath caught.
“You want me to claim you. To mark you. To *burn* for you the way I did for no one else.” His voice was rough, dangerous. “You feel it. The bond. The pull. The way your magic answers to mine. The way your body arches into my touch.”
“I hate you,” I whispered.
“Liar.” His thumb traced my lower lip. “You hate that you *want* me. That your mission means nothing compared to the way I make you feel.”
“You don’t make me feel anything.”
“Then why is your pulse racing?” He pressed two fingers to the side of my neck, his touch searing. “Why is your breath shallow? Why is your magic *dancing* beneath your skin?”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
And that terrified me.
“You came here to destroy me,” he said, voice low. “But you’re not going to. Because you can’t. Not when every part of you *knows* the truth.”
“And what truth is that?”
He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “That you’re not just my bondmate.”
His breath was hot on my neck.
“You’re my *queen.*”
I shoved him—hard—using every ounce of strength I had. He didn’t fight it. Let me push him back, let me create space, let me gasp for air.
“Don’t,” I hissed. “Don’t you *dare* use that word.”
“Why not?” He straightened, his expression unreadable. “You are. The Unseelie Storm Throne is yours. Your mother didn’t just protect the Fae—she *led* them. And you?” He stepped forward again. “You’re her heir. And I will *not* let anyone take that from you. Not Ravel. Not Lira. Not even *you.*”
My breath stopped.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve known since the moment I saw you.” He reached into his coat, pulling out a small, silver locket. “Your mother gave this to me. The night before they killed her. She said, *‘Protect her. No matter what.’*”
My hands trembled.
“She knew,” he said. “She knew you’d come back. She knew the bond would find you. And she knew—”
“That you’d save me,” I finished, voice breaking.
He nodded. “And I will. Every day. For the rest of our lives.”
Silence.
The fire crackled. The wards hummed. The bond pulsed between us, warm, insistent, *alive.*
And then—
—the door burst open.
Dain stood in the archway, his face grim. “Kael. We have a problem.”
Kael didn’t move. Didn’t look away from me. “What is it?”
“Lira.” Dain’s gaze flicked to me, then back to Kael. “She’s telling everyone. About the bond. About the ritual. About… *this.*”
Kael finally turned. “Let her.”
“It’s too late.” Dain stepped inside, lowering his voice. “The Council knows. They’re calling an emergency session. They’re saying the bond is a threat. That it needs to be severed.”
My blood ran cold.
“Let them try,” Kael said, voice deadly calm. “And when they fail, I’ll remind them who holds the thirteenth seat.”
Dain nodded, then left.
Kael turned back to me. “You’re not losing me, Parker.”
“I don’t *have* you,” I said, backing toward the door.
“You do.” He stepped forward. “And I’m not letting go.”
I didn’t answer.
I turned and walked out, my heart pounding, my mark burning, my mind screaming one thing over and over—
He touched me. And I didn’t want him to stop.