The emergency session hadn’t happened.
Not yet.
Instead, the Spire had erupted in fire and fang.
Three hours after I left Parker in the archives, the northern wards shattered like glass. The alarm—a deep, resonant horn that hadn’t sounded in over a century—ripped through the fortress, echoing off the stone, shaking the very foundations. I was in my chambers, reviewing the maintenance log she’d found, when the first scream tore through the corridor.
I was moving before the sound ended.
By the time I reached the central hall, chaos had already taken root. Werewolves shifted mid-sprint, fur bursting through skin, claws carving gouges in the stone as they charged toward the breach. Vampires blurred through the shadows, fangs bared, eyes blazing red. Fae guards shimmered into view, their glamours flickering as they summoned blades of ice and thorn.
And in the center of it all—Parker.
She stood like a storm given form, her black tunic torn at the shoulder, her hair wild around her face, her hands crackling with blood magic. A rogue vampire—a Daywalker, by the scent of him, half-mad with sunlight exposure—lunged at her from the shadows. She didn’t flinch. Just raised one hand, and a whip of crimson energy lashed out, slicing through his throat before he could land a blow.
He fell. She didn’t look at him.
She turned, scanning the hall, her storm-gray eyes sharp, alive, *hunting.* Not for escape. Not for cover.
For the next threat.
And that’s when I saw it—the way her magic pulsed, not just in her hands, but in the air around her, like a second heartbeat. Not wild. Not uncontrolled.
Harmonized.
With *mine.*
Our bond, still raw from the ritual, still singing in my veins, had done something I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just linking us. It was *syncing* us. Her blood magic—usually jagged, volatile, fueled by pain—was flowing in time with my hybrid power, dark and deep, like earth and storm becoming one.
And she didn’t even know it.
“Parker!” I shouted over the roar of battle.
She turned, her gaze locking onto mine. For a second, the world stilled. The screams faded. The blood, the fire, the chaos—it all receded, leaving only her. The woman I’d sworn to protect. The woman who still believed I was her enemy. The woman whose body had arched into mine in the Chamber of Veins, whose breath had hitched when I touched her, whose magic now moved in rhythm with my own.
“Stay close!” I ordered, vaulting over a fallen pillar.
She didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. Just fell into step beside me, our shoulders brushing as we moved through the carnage. Back to back. Side by side. Like we’d fought together for years instead of minutes.
A second rogue vampire came at us from the left—this one feral, eyes milky white, fangs dripping with venom. I lunged, shifting mid-motion, my wolf bursting through, claws slashing. But he was fast. Too fast. He dodged, spinning toward Parker, fangs bared.
She didn’t wait for me.
Her hand snapped out, and a bolt of blood-fire erupted, striking him square in the chest. He screamed, flesh blackening, but he didn’t stop. He kept coming, arms outstretched, aiming to drag her down with him.
I shifted back to humanoid form mid-leap, landing between them. My fangs extended, my vampire strength surging as I caught the rogue by the throat and *squeezed.* Bones cracked. Blood sprayed. He went limp.
But not before he raked his claws down my arm.
Pain flared—sharp, hot—but I barely registered it. My focus was on her. On the way her chest heaved, the way her fingers trembled, the way her eyes flicked to the wound on my arm before snapping back to mine.
“You’re bleeding,” she said, voice tight.
“It’s nothing,” I growled, already scanning the hall for the next threat.
“It’s *not* nothing.” She grabbed my arm, her fingers pressing against the gash. “Your hybrid blood—”
“Is stable,” I snapped. “Thanks to *you.*”
She stilled.
Our eyes met. And in that moment, I saw it—the flicker of doubt, the crack in her armor. She didn’t want to care. Didn’t want to feel. But she did. And she hated herself for it.
“We don’t have time for this,” I said, pulling my arm free. “They’re not done.”
And I was right.
The third wave hit from above.
Three more rogues—this time coordinated, moving in formation, their eyes glowing with unnatural light. Not feral. Not mad.
Controlled.
And then I smelled it—the faint, cloying sweetness beneath the iron and smoke.
Fae glamour.
They weren’t just rogues.
They were *puppets.*
“They’re being manipulated,” I said, shifting into full hybrid form—wolf strength, vampire speed, the best of both. “The Fae are behind this.”
Parker’s eyes narrowed. “The Unseelie?”
“No.” I bared my fangs. “The Seelie. They don’t fight with honor. They fight with lies.”
She didn’t argue. Just nodded, falling into step beside me as we charged forward.
The battle was brutal. Fast. Relentless.
I took the first rogue with a spinning claw strike, ripping through his ribs. Parker dropped the second with a burst of blood-fire that seared his heart. The third lunged at her from behind—I shifted mid-motion, my fangs sinking into his neck before he could land a blow.
But as he fell, his hand lashed out, catching Parker’s wrist.
And then—
—she screamed.
Not from pain.
From *magic.*
His touch triggered something—some residual glamour, some cursed spell—and a pulse of golden light erupted from his skin, slamming into her like a physical force. She flew back, crashing into the wall, her head striking stone with a sickening crack.
“Parker!”
I was at her side in an instant, dropping to one knee, my hands on her shoulders. “Look at me. *Look at me.*”
Her eyes fluttered open—dazed, unfocused. Blood trickled from her temple, dark and slow.
“You’re okay,” I said, voice rough. “You’re okay.”
She blinked up at me, her breath shallow. “You… you came back.”
“I’ll always come back,” I growled. “Now get up.”
She tried. But her legs buckled. The glamour had weakened her, sapped her strength.
I didn’t hesitate.
I scooped her into my arms, lifting her like she weighed nothing. She stiffened, her hands pressing against my chest, but I didn’t let go.
“Put me down,” she hissed.
“Not until you can stand on your own,” I said, already moving toward the safer end of the hall.
“I don’t need your help.”
“You do.” I adjusted my grip, her body pressed against mine, her scent—iron, rosemary, storm—flooding my senses. “And you’re not going to die in this hall. Not while I’m breathing.”
She didn’t answer.
But she didn’t fight me either.
I carried her to the edge of the chamber, setting her down against a pillar, my body shielding hers. The battle raged on, but the worst of it was over. The remaining rogues were being taken down, one by one, by the werewolf Alphas and vampire enforcers.
“You fought well,” I said, crouching in front of her, my hands on her knees to keep her upright. “Better than anyone I’ve seen in years.”
She looked at me, her storm-gray eyes blazing. “I didn’t need you to save me.”
“No,” I agreed. “But you needed someone to *watch your back.* And I was there.”
She swallowed, her throat working. “Why?”
“Because the bond demands it.”
“Bullshit.”
I almost smiled. “Then what do you want me to say? That I care? That I can’t stand the thought of you bleeding out on this floor? That every time you’re in danger, something in me *breaks*?”
She flinched.
“That’s not love,” she whispered. “That’s possession.”
“Maybe.” I leaned in, close enough to feel her breath on my skin. “But it’s also truth. You felt it out there, didn’t you? Our magic—how it moved together. How it *answered* to each other.”
She looked away. But not before I saw it—the flicker of fear. Not of me. Of *herself.*
“It was just the bond,” she said. “A fluke. A reaction.”
“No.” I reached up, my thumb brushing the blood at her temple. “It was *us.* Two halves becoming whole.”
Her breath caught.
“You came here to destroy me,” I 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?”
I didn’t answer with words.
I answered with touch.
My hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, and I pulled her toward me—slow, deliberate, giving her time to pull away.
She didn’t.
Our lips met—just a brush at first. A test. A spark.
And then—
—the bond *roared.*
Heat. Light. Memory.
Flashes—her mother’s face, whispering, *“Protect her.”* The Chamber of Veins, her body arching into mine. The archives, her magic dancing beneath her skin as she held the truth in her hands.
And then—
Feeling.
Her lips, soft and warm, parting beneath mine. Her hands, no longer pushing, but *pulling*, gripping my coat, dragging me closer. Her breath, hot and shallow, mingling with mine. The way her body pressed into mine, desperate, hungry, *needing.*
I deepened the kiss, my fangs grazing her lower lip, just enough to draw a bead of blood. Her magic flared—crimson light spiraling around us, binding us, *claiming* us.
And then—
—a voice.
“Kael.”
Dain stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable. The battle was over. The rogues were dead. The hall was quiet, save for the crackle of dying flames and the distant echo of footsteps.
I broke the kiss, but didn’t let her go. My hand stayed at the back of her neck, my thumb brushing her pulse.
Parker didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at me, her lips swollen, her eyes wide, her chest heaving.
“The Council wants you,” Dain said. “They’re calling an emergency session. Now.”
I nodded, slowly releasing her. “Tell them I’ll be there.”
Dain hesitated. Then turned and left.
Silence.
Parker finally pulled back, her hands trembling as she wiped the blood from her lip. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
“No,” I agreed. “It should’ve happened ten years ago.”
She stood, unsteady, but refusing my help. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to *touch* me and then pretend this means something.”
“I’m not pretending.” I rose to my feet, towering over her. “You felt it. The bond. The magic. The way our power *harmonizes* when we fight. When we kiss. When we *breathe.*”
“It’s not real.”
“It’s more real than anything you’ve ever known.” I stepped closer, caging her against the pillar. “You came here to burn me, Parker. But fire doesn’t destroy the storm. It becomes part of it.”
She looked up at me, her eyes blazing. “Then let me burn.”
“I already have.” My voice dropped to a growl. “And I’ll keep burning until you stop fighting it.”
She shoved me—hard—but I didn’t budge.
“You don’t own me,” she hissed.
“No.” I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear. “But I *want* you. And I’m not letting go.”
She didn’t answer.
Just turned and walked away, her boots echoing against the stone.
I watched her go.
The emergency session was coming.
The truth would be exposed.
And Ravel would fall.
But as I turned to follow, one thought echoed in my mind—
She kissed me back.
And that changed everything.