The first time I truly understood what it meant to be claimed, it wasn’t when Kaelen touched me.
It was when someone else did.
The Midwinter Gala was supposed to be a truce—a fragile peace between the Northern Pack and the Southern Clans, brokered under the watchful eyes of the Supernatural Council. The great hall of the fortress had been transformed: silver banners hung from the vaulted ceiling, enchanted frost spiraled across the stone walls, and the scent of pine, bloodwine, and fire-musk filled the air. Witches wove illusions of falling snow that never melted, vampires glided through the crowd like shadows given form, and werewolves prowled in their human skins, their eyes sharp with instinct.
I stood at the edge of the dais, dressed in a gown of deep garnet silk, the color of my blood, my name, my power. The fabric clung to my curves, slit high on one thigh, the neckline daring but not desperate. My hair was loose, wild, unbound—like I was no longer trying to hide. The sigil on my wrist glowed faintly, warm against my skin, a constant hum of connection. Kaelen stood beside me, tall and lethal in black leather, his gold eyes scanning the room, his presence a wall between me and the world.
We hadn’t spoken much since the bathhouse.
Not because of tension.
But because of something worse—understanding.
He knew I’d chosen him.
And I knew he’d waited for me.
And now, the world was watching.
“They’re staring,” I murmured, my fingers brushing the stem of my goblet.
“Let them,” he said, voice low. “They’ve always stared. They just haven’t had a reason to believe it before.”
I glanced at him. “And now they do?”
He turned his head, just slightly, and for the first time in weeks, he smiled.
Not a smirk. Not a challenge.
A real smile.
“Now they do,” he said. “Because you’re not hiding.”
My breath caught.
He was right.
I wasn’t.
No more lies. No more denial. No more pretending I didn’t want him. The kiss in the bathhouse had changed everything. Not because it was the first time we’d touched—no, we’d touched a hundred times, in battle, in fever, in rage.
But it was the first time I’d touched him freely.
And the bond had known.
It wasn’t a curse anymore.
It was a vow.
And then I felt it.
A flicker at the edge of my mind. Like a shadow passing through a room. Like a whisper in a language I didn’t understand.
My fangs ached.
The bond flared—just once, a sharp pulse of warning.
And then I saw her.
Selene.
She entered the hall like a storm given form—crimson silk clinging to every curve, 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 the crowd. Just walked straight to Kaelen, her hips swaying, her scent—dark roses and venom—cutting through the air.
And then she did it.
She reached up, cupped his jaw, and kissed him.
Not a peck. Not a gesture.
A claim.Her lips pressed to his, slow, deliberate, her body arching into him, her fingers tangling in his hair. The room stilled. The music faltered. The snow illusions melted midair.
And I saw red.
Not metaphorically.
Red.
Fire erupted from my palms, spiraling up my arms, searing through my veins. My vision sharpened, the world tinted in crimson, every heartbeat a drum of fury. The sigil on my wrist blazed, not with pain, but with something darker—possession.
I didn’t think.
Didn’t reason.
I just moved.
One step. Then another. My boots silent on the stone. The crowd parted like water. I didn’t see their faces. Didn’t hear their gasps. Didn’t care.
There was only her.
And him.
And the lie she was trying to make real.
“Get. Off. Him.”
My voice was low. Rough. Not human.
Selene broke the kiss, slowly, deliberately, and turned to me. Her smile was slow, cruel, triumphant. “Or what, little hybrid? You’ll burn me?”
“I’ll do worse,” I said, stepping forward. “I’ll make you regret the day you ever touched what’s mine.”
She laughed. “And what makes you think he’s yours? He kissed me back, didn’t he?”
My eyes snapped to Kaelen.
He didn’t look at me.
Didn’t look at her.
Just stood there, his jaw clenched, his fists at his sides, his scent—storm and iron—spiking with arousal.
And that was the worst part.
He was hard.
Not from her.
From me.
From the fire in my eyes. From the power in my voice. From the way I was looking at him—like I’d kill anyone who tried to take him.
And gods, I would.
“You think this is a game?” I said, stepping closer. “You think you can just waltz in here and pretend you belong to him?”
“I don’t have to pretend,” she purred. “I’ve been in his bed. I’ve tasted his blood. I’ve felt his fangs on my neck.”
Lies.
All lies.
But the bond didn’t know that.
It surged, a wildfire in my chest, feeding on jealousy, on rage, on the raw, unfiltered truth of what I felt. My magic flared, fire spiraling up my arms, my skin glowing garnet-red. The air crackled. The torches flickered. The snow illusions turned to ash.
“Garnet,” Kaelen said, his voice rough. “Stop.”
“No,” I said, not looking at him. “I’m done letting her win.”
“You don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly,” I snapped. “She wants you. She’s always wanted you. And she’ll do anything to have you. Even if it means destroying me.”
“And what if I want her?” Selene asked, stepping closer. “What if he wants me?”
I didn’t hesitate.
I raised my hand—and fire exploded.
Not at her.
Not at the crowd.
But at the banner above us.
The silver fabric caught instantly, flames racing up the pole, lighting the hall in flickering crimson. Gasps echoed. Werewolves snarled. Vampires hissed.
And then I did it.
I stepped forward, grabbed Selene by the throat, and slammed her against the wall.
My fangs were out. My eyes were blazing. My voice was a growl. “Say it again. Say he’s yours. I dare you.”
She didn’t flinch. Just smiled, slow and cold. “He’ll never love you the way he loves me. He’ll never want you the way he wants me. And when the next fever comes—”
“—he’ll take me,” I finished, pressing harder. “Whether I want him to or not. That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?”
Her smile faltered.
“But you’re wrong,” I said. “Because he won’t take me. He’ll ask. And I’ll say yes. Not because of magic. Not because of blood. Because I choose him.”
And then I threw her.
Not hard. Not enough to break bone. But enough to send her stumbling back, her silk dress torn, her pride shattered.
The room was silent.
Every eye was on me.
And then I felt it—Kaelen’s hand on my arm.
Not restraining.
Not stopping.
Pulling me back.
“Enough,” he said, his voice low, commanding.
I turned to him. “You let her kiss you.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “She ambushed me. I didn’t respond.”
“But you didn’t stop her.”
“Because I was watching you,” he said. “Watching to see what you’d do. Watching to see if you’d fight for me.”
My breath hitched.
“And you did,” he said. “You didn’t run. You didn’t hide. You didn’t pretend you didn’t care. You fought. And gods, Garnet, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Tears burned my eyes.
Not from sadness.
From rage. From relief. From the unbearable weight of finally being seen.
“You’re mine,” I said, voice breaking. “Not because of the bond. Not because of the curse. Because you choose to be.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me into his arms, holding me like I was something fragile, something precious. I didn’t fight. Didn’t pull away. Just buried my face in his neck, my breath fogging the collar of his shirt.
And for the first time, I didn’t feel like a weapon.
I felt like a woman.
A woman who had fought for what she loved.
And won.
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 Kaelen. 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.
I stepped forward, my spine straight, my voice steady. “I did not attack her. She kissed Kaelen. In front of everyone. And I reminded her of her place.”
“Lies,” Selene purred. “She flew into a rage. Called me a whore. Tried to claw my eyes out.”
“And where are the guards who saw this?” Kaelen asked, stepping beside me. “Where are the witnesses? If she was attacked, someone would have heard.”
“The corridors were empty,” Selene said. “It was late. No one was there.”
“Convenient,” I said. “For someone who can manipulate shadows. Who can weave illusions. Who can make people see what isn’t there.”
The Fae Queen arched a brow. “Are you accusing Lady Selene of using glamour?”
“I’m stating facts,” I said. “She used Fae magic to simulate a claiming on me. She left a false bite mark. She made me believe Kaelen had betrayed me.”
“And you have proof of this?” the Elder Witch asked.
“Dr. Elias Vale examined the mark,” I said. “He confirmed it was synthetic. A blend of Fae and vampire magic. Designed to provoke, not bind.”
“And this doctor?” the Southern Alpha growled. “Why should we trust a human?”
“Because he’s the only one who’s treated hybrid physiology for decades,” Kaelen said. “And because I have something better than his word.”
He stepped forward, holding out his wrist, the sigil glowing faintly. “Test the bond. Again. Unfiltered. No dampeners. No illusions. Let us prove what’s between us isn’t lies. It’s truth.”
The Council hesitated.
Then, slowly, the Elder Witch nodded. “Proceed. But if either of you collapses, the test ends.”
I looked at Kaelen. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do,” he 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. “Place your hands on each other. Palms flat. Skin to skin.”
We did.
My palm met his.
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 him—his need, his hunger, his vow to protect me, to cherish me, to claim me when I was ready.
The chamber gasped.
The bond flared brighter, the sigils on our wrists glowing like embers, the air humming with power. My breath hitched. My fingers dug into his shoulders. My scent—spiced fire, wild thyme—flooded him, rich and sweet with arousal.
And then I did it.
I leaned in—and kissed him.
Not a claim. Not a surrender.
Affirmation.My lips met his, soft at first, then deeper, hungrier, as if I was reclaiming what had been stolen from me. He kissed me back, his hand tangling in my hair, his body pulling me against him. 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 vanished.
“The accusation is dismissed,” the Elder Vampire Lord said. “Garnet Hollow is cleared of all charges.”
“And Selene?” I asked.
“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 Kaelen was looking at me—really looking at me—and in his 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 my chamber, I didn’t turn away. Didn’t lock the door. Just stepped inside—and held out my hand.
“Stay,” I said.
He didn’t hesitate.
He crossed the threshold, closed the door, and pulled me into his arms. I didn’t resist. Just buried my face in his neck, my breath warm against his skin.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “For doubting you. For thinking the worst.”
“You were hurt,” he said. “And she used that. But you fought back. You found the truth. And you stood in front of the Council and claimed me.”
I looked up. “I did.”
“Then let me do the same,” he said.
And he kissed me—slow, deep, a vow sealed in breath and heat. The bond flared, not with need, but with something deeper.
Belonging.
I was his.
And he was mine.
Not because of magic.
Not because of blood.
But because, at last, we had chosen each other.
And no lie could ever break that.