The morning after the fever broke, I woke with fire in my veins and a name on my lips.
Kaelen.
Not a whisper. Not a plea.
A claim.
He was beside me, still asleep, his body warm against mine, one arm slung possessively across my waist, his breath slow and steady against the nape of my neck. The fortress was quiet, the torches flickering low, the air thick with the scent of sex and storm and something deeper—something like peace. The sigil on my wrist glowed faintly, warm and steady, no longer a curse, but a vow. I could feel the bond between us—quiet, humming, alive—not with denial, not with resistance, but with something dangerously close to completion.
I should have been afraid.
After everything—after the lies, the betrayal, the fear, the fire—I should have been running. Should have been plotting. Should have been searching for a way to break the curse without giving myself to him.
But I wasn’t.
Because for the first time since I’d walked into this fortress, I didn’t feel like a weapon.
I felt like a woman.
A woman who had fought for what she loved.
And won.
I traced the scar across Kaelen’s chest—the one that ran from his collarbone to his ribs, a silver line etched into his skin like a map of pain. He’d gotten it in a battle with the Iron Clan, he’d told me once, when he was still Beta. A blade had nearly severed his heart. And yet, he’d lived. Fought. Won.
Like me.
We were both survivors.
And now?
Now we were something more.
He stirred, his fingers tightening around my waist, his breath deepening. I didn’t move. Just lay there, my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. The bond pulsed—just once, a soft throb, like it was approving.
And then he spoke, voice rough with sleep. “You’re thinking too loud.”
I smiled. “You can hear that?”
“I can feel it,” he said, turning his head, his lips brushing my temple. “Your magic hums when you’re anxious. Like a storm building.”
“I’m not anxious,” I lied.
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me closer, his hand sliding up my spine, his thumb tracing the sigil on my neck—the one that had appeared after the fever, a brand of fire and thorn, glowing faintly beneath my skin. It hadn’t been there before. Not during the ritual. Not during the fever. But now? Now it was part of me. Part of us.
“The Southern Alpha challenged you,” I said, breaking the silence.
“I know,” he said. “And I’ll answer him.”
“Alone?”
He turned to me, his gold eyes burning. “Never alone. Not anymore.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just saying it.
He meant it.
And gods, I loved him for it.
But before I could respond, a knock echoed at the door.
Not hard. Not urgent.
But precise.
Riven.
“Enter,” Kaelen said, voice shifting—Alpha now, not lover.
The door opened, and Riven stepped inside, dressed in dark leathers, his expression grim. He didn’t look at me. Just at Kaelen. “Dr. Vale is here. He insists on speaking with Garnet. Says it’s urgent.”
Kaelen’s grip tightened. “About?”
“Her heat cycle,” Riven said. “It’s coming. Sooner than expected.”
The room went cold.
Not from fear.
But from understanding.
I sat up slowly, the sheets slipping from my shoulders, my skin suddenly too tight, too sensitive. The heat cycle—three days of uncontrollable arousal, scent dominance, vulnerability to forced claiming. Every female werewolf went through it every six months. But for hybrids? It was different. Stronger. Darker. And if I wasn’t marked by Beltane—
“—the curse will take you,” Dr. Vale said, stepping into the chamber behind Riven.
He was older than I remembered—gray hair, sharp eyes, a silver cane in one hand, a leather satchel in the other. He didn’t bow. Didn’t flinch. Just looked at me like he could see every lie I’d ever told, every scar I’d ever hidden.
“You’re early,” I said.
“So are you,” he said, setting the satchel on the table. “Your heat cycle was due in six weeks. But the fever—your awakening—it accelerated it. You have less than three days.”
My breath hitched.
Kaelen sat up beside me, his body tense, his scent—storm and iron—spiking with arousal. “What happens if she’s not claimed?”
“The bond will flare,” Dr. Vale said. “Her magic will spiral. Her body will burn. And if no one claims her—”
“—the curse finishes her,” I finished, voice low.
He nodded. “And it won’t be quick. It’ll feel like fire in your veins. Like your blood turning to acid. Like every cell in your body screaming for release.”
I didn’t flinch.
Because I’d already felt it.
During the fever.
And I knew—
I couldn’t survive it again.
“There’s a way to suppress it,” Dr. Vale said, opening the satchel. “A serum. It’ll dull the scent, slow the arousal, give you time to prepare.”
“And the side effects?” Kaelen asked.
“Nausea. Weakness. Temporary magic suppression. But it’s better than death.”
“I’ll take it,” I said.
Kaelen turned to me. “You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do,” I said. “Because if I lose control—if I’m claimed by someone else—”
“—you’ll be bound to them,” he finished, voice rough. “And I’ll kill them before I let that happen.”
Dr. Vale handed me a vial—clear liquid, glowing faintly. “Take it now. It’ll take effect within the hour.”
I uncorked it, downed it in one swallow.
The taste was bitter—iron and ash and something darker. My stomach twisted. My vision blurred. And then—
Nothing.
No heat. No pulse. No bond screaming in my blood.
Just silence.
“It’s working,” I said, setting the vial down.
Dr. Vale nodded. “For now. But the suppression won’t last. You’ll need another dose tomorrow. And the next day. And if you don’t complete the bond before Beltane—”
“—it won’t matter,” I said. “I’ll still die.”
He didn’t argue.
Just packed his satchel and turned to leave.
But before he reached the door, he stopped. “There’s something else.”
I didn’t like the way he said it.
“What?” Kaelen asked.
Dr. Vale turned, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. “Selene’s been seen in the lower corridors. Talking to the guards. Offering coin. Asking about your movements. Your schedule. Your—”
“—heat cycle,” I finished, my fangs aching.
He nodded. “She’s planning something. And if she knows you’re vulnerable—”
“—she’ll exploit it,” Kaelen growled, standing. “Riven. Double the Sentinels. Lock down the east wing. No one enters without my permission.”
“And the guards?” I asked.
“We’ll find the ones she’s bribed,” Riven said. “Interrogate them. Execute them if necessary.”
“Do it,” I said. “But quietly. I don’t want her knowing we’re onto her.”
Riven nodded and left.
Dr. Vale lingered. “One more thing. The serum won’t stop the scent completely. It’ll dull it, but not erase it. And if a male catches even a trace—”
“—he’ll come,” I said. “And he won’t care who I belong to.”
“Exactly,” he said. “So stay close to Kaelen. Let his scent mask yours. And if the fever spikes—”
“—lock me in,” I said. “Or chain me. I don’t care. Just don’t let anyone near me.”
He didn’t argue.
Just left.
The moment the door closed, Kaelen turned to me, his expression unreadable. “You think she’ll try to have you claimed?”
“I know she will,” I said. “She wants you weak. She wants me gone. And if she can force a claiming, she’ll destroy the bond. She’ll destroy us.”
He stepped closer, his hand rising to my cheek, his thumb brushing my lip. “Then she’ll have to go through me.”
My breath hitched.
Not from fear.
But from need.
Even with the serum dulling the bond, I could still feel him—his heat, his strength, the way my body ached for his touch. The fever had changed something. Not just my magic. Not just my power. But my hunger. For him. For his hands. His mouth. His fangs on my neck.
And he could smell it.
His eyes darkened. His scent spiked. His hand slid to my throat, not tight, not threatening—claiming. “You’re wet for me,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Even with the serum. Even with the fear. You’re still mine.”
“I’ve always been yours,” I whispered.
He didn’t smile.
Just pulled me into his arms, his mouth crashing over mine, hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against my lips, forcing them open. I moaned—deep, broken—my body arching into him, my hands clutching his shoulders. The bond flared—just once, a pulse of heat, of recognition. The serum dulled it, but it didn’t erase it. And gods, I didn’t want it to.
But before I could deepen the kiss, a knock echoed at the door.
Hard this time.
Urgent.
Kaelen broke the kiss, growling low in his throat. “What?”
The door opened, and Lyra stepped inside, her violet eyes wide, her breath ragged. “Garnet. You need to see this.”
I pulled back, my heart pounding. “What is it?”
She held out a note—folded, sealed with crimson wax. Selene’s seal.
My blood turned to ice.
I took it, broke the seal, unfolded it.
Dear Garnet,
Enjoy your last days of freedom. By the time the heat takes you, you’ll be someone else’s mate. And Kaelen will watch.
—S
I crumpled the note in my fist, fire erupting from my palm, turning it to ash.
“She’s not just planning it,” I said, voice low. “She’s already set it in motion.”
Kaelen didn’t react.
Just turned to Lyra. “Double the wards. Seal every entrance. And if you see Selene—”
“—kill her,” Lyra said, her voice sharp. “I’ve had enough of her games.”
He nodded. “Do it.”
She left.
And then he turned to me, his gold eyes burning. “You’re not afraid.”
“I am,” I said. “But not of her. Not of the heat. Not of the curse.”
“Then what?”
“I’m afraid of losing you,” I whispered. “Of becoming what she wants me to be. A pawn. A weapon. A victim. I’m afraid that when the fever comes, I’ll beg you to claim me. That I’ll let her win.”
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.
“You won’t,” he said. “Because I’ll be there. I’ll hold you. I’ll remind you who you are. And if you beg me—”
He pulled back, just enough to look at me. “Then I’ll make you ask.”
Tears burned my eyes.
Because I knew—
He wasn’t just my Alpha.
He wasn’t just my mate.
He was my home.
And I was his.
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 sat by the fire, my head on his shoulder, 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.”
He didn’t smile.
Just leaned in—and kissed me.
Slow. Deep. A vow sealed in breath and heat.
The bond flared, not with need, but with something deeper.
Peace.
Finally.
And for the first time since I’d become who I was meant to be, I let myself believe it.
That I wasn’t just surviving.
I was alive.
And I would fight—
For him.
For us.
For every breath, every touch, every claim.
Because the curse wasn’t just in my blood.
It was in my heart.
And the only way to break it was to stop running.
To stop fighting.
To stop pretending I didn’t want him.
Because I did.
Not just to survive.
Not just to break the curse.
But because he saw me. Not as a weapon. Not as a pawn. Not as a cursed hybrid.
As me.
And maybe—just maybe—that was enough.