The fever came at dawn.
Not with a whisper. Not with a warning. But with a scream—deep in my blood, in my bones, in the very core of me. One moment, I was dreaming of fire and thorns, of Kaelen’s hands on my skin, his mouth on my neck, his voice growling, *“Mine.”* The next, I was awake, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding like a war drum, my skin burning from the inside out.
I gasped, bolting upright in bed, the sheets tangled around my legs. The sigil on my wrist flared—hot, insistent, pulsing in time with my pulse. The bond was awake. And it was hungry.
“Kaelen,” I whispered, reaching for him.
But the other side of the bed was empty.
My breath hitched. Panic clawed at my throat. Was he gone? Had he left me to face this alone? Had he finally decided I wasn’t worth the risk, the chaos, the curse that would kill us both if we didn’t complete the bond before Beltane?
And then I saw it.
A note, pinned to the pillow with a silver dagger.
I’m not running.
I’m protecting you.
Don’t come to me.
—K
I threw the note into the fire.
Protecting me? By leaving? By locking himself away while my body burned for his touch, while my magic screamed for release, while the curse tightened its grip on my veins?
No.
If he thought I’d sit here and suffer while he played the martyr, he didn’t know me at all.
I threw off the sheets and stood, my legs unsteady, my skin slick with sweat. The room spun. My fangs ached. My core throbbed with a need so deep it felt like a wound. The bond pulsed—hot, relentless—demanding to be sated. And I knew, with a cold certainty, that if I didn’t act, it would break me.
But not before I broke him.
I dressed quickly—leather pants, a thin tunic, my boots laced tight. I didn’t bother with a cloak. The heat inside me was enough. I grabbed my dagger from the hearth, the silver cold against my palm, and stepped into the hallway.
The fortress was silent, the torches flickering, the air thick with the scent of ozone and something darker—fear. The Sentinels at the end of the hall stiffened when they saw me, their eyes wide, their hands on their weapons. They knew what was coming. They’d been warned.
“Where is he?” I asked, voice low.
One of them—Riven—stepped forward, his dark eyes sharp. “He’s in the east wing. The old cells. He’s chained himself.”
My breath caught.
He’d chained himself?
Not to keep me out.
But to keep himself in.
“You can’t go to him,” Riven said. “He gave orders. No one enters. Not even you.”
I didn’t answer.
Just walked past him.
“Garnet,” he said, grabbing my arm. “If you go to him, the bond will flare. The fever will take you. You could die.”
I turned, my violet eyes locking onto his. “And if I don’t, I’ll die anyway. But not before I destroy everything he’s built. Not before I tear this fortress apart stone by stone.”
He hesitated.
Then let me go.
The east wing was colder than the rest of the fortress, the stones damp, the air thick with the scent of iron and old blood. The cells were deep underground, carved into the mountain itself, their doors made of black iron, their bars etched with runes of containment. I could hear him before I saw him—low, guttural growls, the sound of metal scraping stone, the rhythm of a beast fighting its cage.
And then I saw him.
Kaelen.
He was in the last cell, naked, his body taut with tension, his back to the door. Thick iron chains bound his wrists, his ankles, his torso, the links glowing faintly with containment magic. His skin was slick with sweat, his muscles corded, his fangs bared. He hadn’t shifted—werewolves couldn’t unless the moon was full—but the beast was close, just beneath the surface, snarling, clawing, hungry.
And then he smelled me.
He turned.
His gold eyes burned into mine—gold, fierce, unrelenting. But there was something else there. Something I hadn’t seen before.
Fear.
Not of me.
But for me.
“Garnet,” he growled, voice rough, strained. “Get out.”
“No,” I said, stepping closer.
“You don’t understand,” he said, yanking at the chains. “The fever—my control—it’s slipping. I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I said, pressing my palm to the iron bars. The sigil on my wrist flared, warm and bright. “Because I won’t let you.”
“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” he snarled. “You don’t know what I’ll do when the bond takes me.”
“I know,” I said. “And I don’t care. Because I’m not here to be saved. I’m here to claim you.”
He stilled.
“You think I’m weak?” I asked, stepping even closer. “You think I need you to protect me? To lock yourself away like a monster? You’re not a monster, Kaelen. You’re my mate. And I’m not going to let you die alone in a cell because you’re too afraid to want me.”
“I’m not afraid of wanting you,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m afraid of taking you. Of losing control. Of becoming what my father was.”
“Then don’t,” I said. “Don’t take me. Let me give myself to you. Let me choose you. Every time.”
He didn’t move. Just watched me, his breath ragged, his body trembling.
And then I did it.
I reached into my tunic and pulled out the vial Dr. Vale had given me—the one containing a drop of Kaelen’s blood, drawn during the last ritual. It was sealed with wax, glowing faintly with magic.
“This will activate the dormant sigil,” I said. “The one that proves I’m not just a Hollow witch. That I’m not just a cursed hybrid. That I’m an Alpha.”
“You don’t know what it will do,” he said. “It could kill you.”
“And if I don’t do it,” I said, “the curse will. And so will this fever. So I’d rather die trying to become what I was meant to be than die running from it.”
He didn’t argue.
Just watched as I broke the seal, uncorked the vial, and poured the blood onto the sigil on my wrist.
For a heartbeat—nothing.
Then—
Fire.
Not pain. Not denial. Not the jagged edge of resistance.
Power.
It exploded through me like a supernova, searing through my veins, my bones, my magic. I screamed—raw, broken—as the sigil on my wrist flared, not just with light, but with fire. The runes burned into my skin, spreading up my arm, across my chest, down my spine, etching themselves into my flesh like a brand. My vision whited out. My body arched. My fangs lengthened. My claws extended.
And then—
I shifted.
Not fully. Not like a pureblood werewolf. But enough.
My senses sharpened. My strength surged. My magic roared to life, not as fire, but as storm—lightning crackling at my fingertips, wind howling around me, the air thick with ozone. The chains on the cell door groaned. The runes flickered. The stone trembled.
And then I did it.
I reached out—and tore the bars apart.
Not with magic.
Not with fire.
With strength.
The iron bent like paper, the runes shattering, the door swinging open with a screech. I stepped inside, my breath ragged, my body humming with power, my eyes blazing violet.
Kaelen stared at me—really stared at me.
And for the first time, I didn’t see fear.
I saw awe.
“You’re an Alpha,” he whispered.
“I’m your Alpha,” I said, stepping closer. “And I’m not letting you die in a cell.”
He didn’t move. Just watched me, his breath shallow, his body tense.
And then the bond flared—wild, uncontrolled, a wildfire in my chest. The fever spiked, hotter, darker, more desperate than before. My core ached. My skin burned. My magic pulsed, not with denial, but with need.
I stepped forward.
He didn’t retreat.
Just stood there, his eyes locked on mine, his body taut, his scent—storm and iron—spiking with arousal.
“You said you’d wait,” I said, voice low. “That you’d let me choose you. Every time.”
“I did,” he said. “And I will.”
“Then choose me now,” I said, stepping even closer. “Not because the bond demands it. Not because the fever is killing me. But because you want me. Because you love me.”
He didn’t speak.
Just reached out—slow, deliberate—and brushed his thumb over my cheek. The calluses on his fingers scraped my skin, sending a jolt of heat straight to my core. I gasped. My body arched, just slightly, toward him—traitorous, instinctive.
“I do,” he whispered. “Gods help me, I do.”
And then I did it.
I leaned in—and kissed him.
Not gentle. Not tentative.
Claiming.My lips met his, hot and demanding, my tongue sliding against his lips, forcing them open. He moaned—low, rough—his hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. The bond roared to life, a wildfire racing through my veins, burning away every lie, every fear, every wall we’d built between us.
But it wasn’t just a kiss.
It was a transfer.
My power flowed into him—storm and fire, lightning and heat, the raw, unfiltered truth of what I was. And his into me—strength and control, dominance and surrender, the quiet, steady weight of a man who had waited for me.
The cell trembled. The chains shattered. The stone cracked. The torches exploded, their flames spiraling into the air like comets.
And then—
I came.
Not from touch. Not from friction.
From the bond.My body arched, my back bowing, my scream echoing off the stone as pleasure—white-hot, all-consuming—ripped through me. My magic flared, not with denial, but with completion. The sigils on my skin glowed like embers, the air humming with power. I could feel him—his need, his hunger, his vow to protect me, to cherish me, to claim me when I was ready.
And I was.
When the wave finally receded, I was on my knees, my breath ragged, my body trembling. Kaelen was beside me, his arms around me, his breath hot against my neck, his body hard against mine.
“Garnet,” he whispered. “Are you—”
“I’m fine,” I said, leaning into him. “Better than fine. I’m awake.”
He didn’t answer.
Just held me, his grip tight, his body shielding me from the world.
And then—
Riven’s voice echoed down the hall.
“Kaelen. Garnet. You need to see this.”
We stood slowly, my legs still unsteady, my body humming with power. Riven was at the end of the hall, his expression grim, a scroll in his hand.
“What is it?” I asked.
He handed me the scroll. “It’s from the Southern Alpha. He’s moving. Says you’re weak. That the bond has made you soft. That it’s time for a new leader.”
I unrolled the scroll, my eyes scanning the words.
Kaelen Thorne,
Your weakness is your undoing. A hybrid witch rules you. A cursed bloodline claims you. You are no longer fit to lead.
Meet me at the border at dawn. Or I will take what is mine.
My breath hitched.
“He’s challenging you,” I said.
Kaelen didn’t look at the scroll. Just looked at me. “And what do you say we do?”
I smiled—slow, dangerous, feral.
“We show him what happens when you threaten what’s mine.”
He didn’t smile.
Just reached out, slow, deliberate, and brushed his thumb over my cheek. The sigil on his wrist flared, warm and bright.
“Then let’s go,” he said. “Together.”
We returned to my chamber in silence, the bond humming between us, warm and steady. When we reached the door, I didn’t turn away. Didn’t lock it. 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 I 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.
Later, as we lay tangled in my sheets, my head on his chest, his fingers tracing the sigil on my wrist, he spoke.
“The Southern Alpha thinks I’m weak,” he said, voice quiet.
“And are you?” I asked.
He turned to me, his gold eyes burning. “I was. Until you.”
I smiled—just once, faint, fleeting—and it was like the sun breaking through storm clouds.
“Then let’s show him,” I said, “what happens when you challenge an Alpha… and her mate.”