The moment I stepped into the fortress after the storm, I felt it—something had changed.
Not in the crumbling stone of the east wing, not in the flickering sigils or the scent of damp moss and ozone clinging to the air. No, the shift was deeper. Personal. The bond between Garnet and me—usually a live wire of tension, desire, denial—was quiet. Too quiet. Like a storm that had passed not with a roar, but with a whisper.
And then I saw her.
She stood in the hallway outside her chamber, hand pressed to the fresh bite mark on her neck, her spine rigid, her eyes hollow. The sight of it—those twin punctures marring the delicate skin beneath her jaw—sent a bolt of ice through my chest. Not because it was there. But because I knew, with a certainty that scraped my soul raw, that it wasn’t mine.
I hadn’t marked her.
I hadn’t even touched her after the fever broke. I’d stayed awake through the night, kneeling beside the cot, chanting warding runes until my throat was raw, offering my blood to the bond in a desperate attempt to sate it. I’d felt the magic pulse—dark, insistent, ancient—reaching into her like a phantom hand. And I’d been powerless to stop it.
But I hadn’t claimed her.
And when she looked at me, her voice trembling as she accused me—*“You marked me while I was unconscious”*—I didn’t argue. Didn’t defend. Because in that moment, I understood something far worse than betrayal.
Someone else had.
I left her standing there, not because I didn’t want to fight for her trust, but because I knew I couldn’t earn it with words. Not now. Not when the bond itself had been weaponized against us. I needed proof. I needed answers. And I needed to know who had dared to touch what was mine.
By dawn, I’d sent Riven to retrieve Dr. Elias Vale.
Not because I trusted the human witch-doctor—though his skill with hybrid physiology was unmatched. But because I knew he was the only one who could tell us what that mark truly was. And because, if Garnet wouldn’t come to me, I’d bring the truth to her.
The clinic was deep in the Carpathian foothills, hidden beneath layers of Fae illusion and human denial. Vale’s domain was a patchwork of stolen technology and ancient magic—fluorescent lights buzzing above shelves of dried herbs, IV drips feeding into vials of enchanted blood, monitors tracking magical resonance like heartbeats. It smelled of antiseptic and iron, of life barely clinging to the edge of death.
Vale met us at the entrance, his wire-rimmed glasses reflecting the sterile glow, his lab coat stained with something dark. He didn’t flinch when I stepped inside, didn’t cower. Just nodded, once, and said, “She’s here, then.”
“She’s not coming,” I said. “But you are.”
He studied me. “And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll carry you,” I said. “And I won’t be gentle.”
He didn’t argue. Just grabbed his satchel and followed me back through the ravine, the wind howling at our backs.
When we arrived, Garnet was in her chamber, seated by the fire, her cloak still on, her dagger at her thigh. She didn’t look up when the door opened. Didn’t speak when Vale stepped inside. But her fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade, and the bond flared—just once, a sharp pulse of warning.
“You brought him,” she said, voice flat.
“I did,” I said. “Because you won’t believe me. But maybe you’ll believe the truth.”
She finally looked at me. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale. But there was fire behind the pain. The same fire that had drawn me in from the first moment she walked into the Moonfire Hall.
“And what truth is that?” she asked. “That you didn’t do this?” She touched the mark. “Because it’s real. I can feel it. It’s in my blood.”
“Let him examine it,” I said. “Let him tell you what it is. And if it’s mine—if I broke my vow—then you can walk away. You can try to kill me. You can die with me, if that’s what you want. But not until you know.”
She hesitated.
Then, slowly, she nodded.
Vale stepped forward, his movements careful, clinical. “May I?”
She didn’t answer. Just tilted her head, exposing the mark.
He leaned in, adjusting his glasses, then pulled a small silver lens from his satchel. He examined the punctures closely, then dabbed a drop of clear liquid onto the skin. It shimmered, shifting from blue to red.
“Not werewolf venom,” he said. “Too sweet. Too refined.”
My breath stilled.
“Vampire?” Garnet asked, voice tight.
“No,” Vale said. “The venom’s synthetic. A blend of Fae glamour and blood magic. Designed to mimic a claim, but not complete one. It’s a signature—feminine, calculated. Meant to provoke, not bind.”
“Selene,” I said.
Garnet’s head snapped toward me. “You knew.”
“I suspected,” I said. “But I needed proof. And now you have it.”
Vale straightened. “The mark will fade in a few days. It’s not real. Not in the way that matters. The bond knows the difference.”
She looked at me—really looked at me—for the first time since the safehouse. “So you didn’t—”
“I didn’t,” I said. “I would rather die than mark you without your consent. Not because of honor. Not because of duty. Because I want you to choose me. Every time. In every way.”
Her breath hitched.
And then the door burst open.
Lyra stood in the threshold, her violet eyes wide, her chest rising and falling. “She’s here,” she said. “Selene. At the gates. She’s demanding a Council hearing. Says you attacked her.”
Garnet stood. “I didn’t—”
“She doesn’t care,” Lyra said. “She’s already spreading the story. Says you flew into a jealous rage. That you tried to claw her eyes out.”
I turned to Garnet. “This is her move. She knows the mark didn’t hold. So now she’s turning it around. Making you the aggressor. Making you unstable.”
“And the Council will believe her,” Garnet said. “A hybrid witch with a cursed bloodline? A woman who came here to kill you? Of course they’ll believe I’m dangerous.”
“Then we give them the truth,” I said.
“How?” she asked. “With what? Vale’s word? Mine? They’ll call it bias. They’ll call it manipulation.”
I stepped closer. “Then we give them something they can’t deny.”
“What?”
“The bond,” I said. “We prove it in front of them. We show them what’s between us isn’t lies. It’s truth.”
She stared at me. “You’d do that? Risk exposure? Risk the Council seeing how much we feel?”
“I’d do anything to prove you’re not what she says you are,” I said. “And to prove I’m not what you thought I was.”
She didn’t answer.
But the bond flared—just once, a pulse of heat, of something dangerously close to hope.
The Council chamber beneath Edinburgh Castle was colder than I remembered. The floating orbs of blue flame cast long shadows across the black stone, the air thick with the weight of ancient oaths and blood-deep rivalries. Around the central dais sat the leaders of the major factions—Vampire Lords in crimson silk, Fae nobles wreathed in glamour, werewolf Alphas in leather and steel, witches in flowing robes etched with sigils.
Selene stood at the front, dressed in blood-red velvet, her hair coiled like a serpent, her lips painted the same shade as her dress. She didn’t look at me. Didn’t look at Garnet. Just smiled, slow and knowing, as the Elder Vampire Lord rose to speak.
“The Crimson Court brings formal accusation,” he intoned. “Garnet Hollow, hybrid witch of the Hollow Bloodline, did assault Lady Selene of the Crimson Court in a fit of jealous rage. We demand justice.”
Gasps rippled through the chamber.
Garnet stepped forward, her spine straight, her voice steady. “I did not attack her. She ambushed me. She used Fae magic to simulate a claiming, to make me believe Kaelen had betrayed me.”
“Lies,” Selene purred. “She’s unstable. The bond is breaking her. She can’t handle the truth—that he’ll never be hers.”
“Then let’s test the truth,” I said, stepping beside Garnet.
The Fae Queen arched a brow. “And how do you propose we do that, Alpha?”
“A bond verification,” I said. “Public. Unfiltered. No dampeners. No illusions. Just the raw connection between us.”
“That’s unprecedented,” the Elder Witch said.
“And dangerous,” the Southern Alpha growled. “If the bond is unstable, it could flare. It could hurt them.”
“Then we’ll endure,” I said. “Because I’m done letting lies define what we are.”
The Council exchanged glances. Then, after a long silence, the Elder Vampire Lord nodded. “Proceed. But if either of you collapses, the test ends.”
Garnet looked at me. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do,” I said. “Because you’re not a weapon. You’re not a pawn. You’re not a curse. You’re mine. And I’m going to make sure everyone sees it.”
The High Witch stepped forward, her silver eyes glowing. “Place your hands on each other. Palms flat. Skin to skin.”
We did.
My palm met hers.
Fire exploded.
Not pain. Not denial. Not the jagged edge of resistance.
Truth.
The bond roared to life, a wildfire racing through my veins, burning away every lie, every fear, every wall we’d built between us. I could feel her—her relief, her shame, her love—pouring into me like a river. And I gave it back. My need. My hunger. My vow to protect her, to cherish her, to claim her when she was ready.
The chamber gasped.
The bond flared brighter, the sigils on our wrists glowing like embers, the air humming with power. Garnet’s breath hitched. Her fingers dug into my shoulders. Her scent—spiced fire, wild thyme—flooded me, rich and sweet with arousal.
And then she did it.
She leaned in—and kissed me.
Not a claim. Not a surrender.
Affirmation.Her lips met mine, soft at first, then deeper, hungrier, as if she was reclaiming what had been stolen from her. I kissed her back, my hand tangling in her hair, my body pulling her against me. The bond screamed, not with pain, but with triumph. With completion.
When we broke apart, the chamber was silent.
The High Witch stepped forward, her voice trembling. “The bond is pure. Unbroken. And… complete. Whatever was done to her, it did not sever the truth between them.”
Selene’s smile faltered.
“The accusation is dismissed,” the Elder Vampire Lord said. “Garnet Hollow is cleared of all charges.”
I turned to her. “And Selene?”
“She will be monitored,” the Fae Queen said. “Any further attempts to manipulate the bond will result in exile.”
Selene didn’t argue. Just smiled, slow and cold, as she turned and walked away.
But I didn’t care.
Because Garnet was looking at me—really looking at me—and in her eyes, I saw it.
Not doubt.
Not fear.
Trust.
We returned to the fortress in silence, the bond humming between us, warm and steady. When we reached her chamber, she didn’t turn away. Didn’t lock the door. Just stepped inside—and held out her hand.
“Stay,” she said.
I didn’t hesitate.
I crossed the threshold, closed the door, and pulled her into my arms. She didn’t resist. Just buried her face in my neck, her breath warm against my skin.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “For doubting you. For thinking the worst.”
“You were hurt,” I said. “And she used that. But you fought back. You found the truth. And you stood in front of the Council and claimed me.”
She looked up. “I did.”
“Then let me do the same,” I said.
And I kissed her—slow, deep, a vow sealed in breath and heat. The bond flared, not with need, but with something deeper.
Belonging.
She was mine.
And I was hers.
Not because of magic.
Not because of blood.
But because, at last, we had chosen each other.
And no lie could ever break that.