The fortress changed when the fever broke.
Not in stone or torchlight, not in the way the sentries patrolled or the wind howled through the mountain passes. But in the air. In the silence. In the way the bond hummed between us—no longer a jagged wire of denial, but a deep, resonant chord of something I still didn’t have a name for.
Peace.
Belonging.
Mine.
Garnet slept curled against my chest, her breath warm on my skin, her hand resting over the old scar across my heart. The sigil on her wrist glowed faintly, pulsing in time with her heartbeat, a brand of fire and thorn that had seared itself into her flesh during the fever. She’d awakened as an Alpha—stronger than any hybrid witch-werewolf on record, her magic no longer just flame, but storm. Lightning crackled at her fingertips when she dreamed. The stones trembled when she walked.
And still, she chose me.
Not because the bond demanded it.
Not because the curse was killing her.
But because she wanted to.
I traced the edge of her jaw with my thumb, watching the way her lashes fluttered in sleep, the way her lips parted slightly when she breathed. She was beautiful. Not in the way the Fae crafted beauty—polished, perfect, cold. But in the way fire was beautiful. Wild. Unpredictable. Alive.
And she was mine.
The thought sent a jolt through me—hot, possessive, terrifying. Because I knew what came next. The Southern Alpha’s challenge loomed at dawn. A fight for leadership, for dominance, for the right to rule. And if I lost, the Northern Pack would fracture. The fragile peace between the clans would shatter. And Garnet—
I didn’t let myself finish the thought.
Because I wouldn’t lose.
Not to him.
Not to anyone.
But there was another threat. One that didn’t come with a challenge at the border. One that slithered through the shadows, wearing silk and venom.
Selene.
Her note had been clear: *“By the time the heat takes you, you’ll be someone else’s mate. And Kaelen will watch.”*
And she wasn’t lying.
The heat cycle was coming. Faster than expected. Dr. Vale had confirmed it—less than three days. And if Garnet wasn’t claimed by Beltane, the curse would finish her. Not slowly. Not quietly. But in agony, her blood turning to fire, her body tearing itself apart from the inside out.
I’d seen it happen before.
Centuries ago, a hybrid witch had refused the bond. Her mate had died in battle. She’d survived, but only for a year. By the end, she’d screamed for days, her skin blistering, her veins blackening, her magic spiraling out of control until it consumed her. The Council had sealed the records. Called it a tragedy. But I’d been there. I’d watched.
And I wouldn’t let it happen to Garnet.
Not while I still drew breath.
She stirred, her fingers tightening over my heart, her body arching slightly into mine. The bond pulsed—soft, insistent. Even with the serum dulling the heat, she could feel it. The pull. The need. The way her body ached for mine.
And gods, I could feel it too.
My cock hardened, thick and heavy against her thigh. My fangs ached. My scent—storm and iron—spiked, filling the chamber, wrapping around her like a claim. I could smell her—spiced fire, wild thyme, the faintest trace of arousal beneath the serum’s suppression. She was wet for me. Even now. Even knowing what was coming.
And I wanted to take her.
Not just to claim her. Not just to bind her to me forever.
But to keep her.
To bury myself inside her, to feel her walls clench around me, to sink my fangs into her neck and seal her to me in blood and breath and fire.
But I wouldn’t.
Not like this.
Not when the fever was coming. Not when the bond would scream, when instinct would override reason, when the beast in me would rise and demand to be sated.
Because if I took her in the madness of denial, in the chaos of need—
She’d believe I’d betrayed her.
She’d believe I was just like my father.
And she’d be right.
I slid out of bed slowly, careful not to wake her. The stone was cold beneath my feet, the air sharp with the scent of ash and ozone. I dressed in silence—black leathers, steel bracers, the weight of my dagger at my hip. The fortress was quiet, the torches flickering low, the sentries moving like shadows through the halls.
I didn’t go to the war room.
Didn’t summon Riven.
Didn’t prepare for the Southern Alpha’s challenge.
Instead, I walked.
Through the east wing. Down the narrow staircase. Into the depths of the mountain, where the air grew damp, the stones slick with moisture, the runes of containment glowing faintly on the walls. The old cells. Where we kept the worst of our enemies. The ones too dangerous to kill. Too valuable to release.
And now?
Now, it would hold me.
The cell at the end was the strongest—black iron bars, runes etched deep into the stone, chains forged from the heart of the mountain, their links glowing with containment magic. I’d had it built after my father’s reign, to ensure no Alpha could ever again use it as a torture chamber. It had held war criminals. Blood-mad shifters. A Fae prince who’d broken three oaths.
And now?
Now, it would hold the Alpha himself.
I stepped inside, the door closing behind me with a heavy thud. The chains were already in place—thick, cold, unyielding. I didn’t hesitate. I raised my wrists, my ankles, my torso, and let the magic bind me. The runes flared, searing into my skin, the iron tightening around my flesh. I gritted my teeth as the pain lanced through me—sharp, deep, righteous.
This was not weakness.
This was control.
This was protection.
I would not be the monster.
I would not be the tyrant.
I would not take what wasn’t freely given.
The cell was cold. Dark. Silent. But the bond was not.
It pulsed—hot, relentless—through the stone, through the iron, through the magic. Garnet was waking. I could feel it. Her magic humming, her heart racing, her body searching for mine. And I knew—
She would come.
She wouldn’t listen to Riven. Wouldn’t heed the warnings. Wouldn’t stay away.
She would come.
And when she did, I would be ready.
I sat on the stone bench, my back against the wall, my head bowed. The chains bit into my wrists, the runes burning, the cold seeping into my bones. I didn’t fight. Didn’t pull. Just let the pain ground me. Let it remind me who I was. Not a beast. Not a monster. Not my father.
An Alpha.
One who would die before he hurt her.
And then I heard it.
Footsteps.
Not cautious. Not hesitant.
Defiant.
My breath stilled.
She was here.
The torchlight flickered as she appeared at the end of the hall, her silhouette sharp against the flame, her hair wild, her eyes blazing violet. She wore leather pants, a thin tunic, her boots laced tight. No cloak. No weapons. Just her magic, humming beneath her skin like a storm about to break.
She didn’t speak.
Just walked.
One foot. Then the other. Her gaze locked on mine, unrelenting, fierce, hers.
And then she stopped.
At the bars.
“You locked yourself away,” she said, voice low. “Like a criminal.”
“I’m protecting you,” I said.
“From what?” she asked. “From yourself? From your own desire? From the truth that you want me as much as I want you?”
My claws extended.
“I want you,” I growled. “Gods help me, I do. But if the fever takes me, if the bond screams, if the beast rises—I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll take you. I’ll claim you. And you’ll hate me for it.”
She didn’t flinch.
Just pressed her palm to the iron bars. The sigil on her wrist flared, warm and bright. “And if I don’t hate you? If I want you to? If I choose you?”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “When the heat comes, it won’t be choice. It’ll be instinct. It’ll be need. It’ll be—”
“—love,” she said, stepping closer. “Not just lust. Not just magic. Love. And if you think I’m going to let you chain yourself in a cell while I burn for you, you don’t know me at all.”
My breath caught.
“You think this is noble?” she asked. “You think locking yourself away makes you strong? It doesn’t. It makes you afraid. And I won’t let you be afraid of me. Of us. Of what we are.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I said, voice breaking. “I’m afraid of me. Of what I’ll do. Of who I’ll become.”
She didn’t answer.
Just reached into her tunic and pulled out the vial Dr. Vale had given her—the one containing my blood. It glowed faintly, the wax seal unbroken.
“You think chains can hold the bond?” she asked. “You think iron and runes can stop what’s between us?”
She uncorked the vial.
Poured the blood onto the sigil on her wrist.
And then—
Fire.
Not pain. Not denial. Not the jagged edge of resistance.
Power.
It exploded through her, searing through her veins, her bones, her magic. She screamed—raw, broken—as the sigil flared, spreading up her arm, across her chest, down her spine. Her eyes blazed violet. Her fangs lengthened. Her claws extended.
And then she did it.
She 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. She stepped inside, her breath ragged, her body humming with power, her eyes burning into mine.
“You’re not a monster,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re my mate. And I’m not going to let you die in a cell because you’re too afraid to want me.”
“I’m not afraid of wanting you,” I said, voice rough. “I’m afraid of taking you.”
“Then don’t,” she said. “Let me give myself to you. Let me choose you. Every time.”
She stepped even closer, her hand rising to my cheek, her thumb brushing my lip. “You said you’d wait. That you’d let me come to you. That you’d let me choose you. Every time.”
“I did,” I said.
“Then prove it,” she whispered. “Not with chains. Not with silence. With truth.”
I didn’t speak.
Just reached out—slow, deliberate—and brushed my thumb over her cheek. The calluses on my fingers scraped her skin, sending a jolt of heat straight to my core. Her breath hitched. Her body arched, just slightly, toward me—traitorous, instinctive.
“You don’t have to protect me,” she said. “Not from the heat. Not from the curse. Not from you. I’m not your prisoner, Kaelen. I’m your queen.”
My chest tightened.
“And if the fever comes?” I asked. “If I can’t stop myself? If I hurt you?”
“Then you won’t,” she said. “Because I’ll be there. I’ll hold you. I’ll remind you who you are. And if you try to take me—”
She stepped closer, her hand rising to my chest, her fingers brushing the old scar across my heart. “Then I’ll make you ask.”
I didn’t speak.
Just pulled her into my arms, holding her like I was something fragile, something precious. She didn’t fight. Didn’t pull away. Just buried her face in my neck, her breath warm against my skin.
And for the first time since I’d become Alpha, I let myself believe it.
That I wasn’t a monster.
That I wasn’t my father.
That I was worthy.
Not of power.
Not of fear.
But of love.
And 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.
Later, as we stood in the war room, her hand in mine, the Southern Alpha’s challenge waiting at dawn, she spoke.
“You don’t have to chain yourself,” she said. “Not for me. Not for the fever. Not for anything.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked.
She looked into my eyes—really looked at me—and for the first time, I saw it.
Not doubt.
Not fear.
Trust.
“Then pray,” she said, “that I’m strong enough to resist you.”
I didn’t smile.
Just leaned in—and kissed her.
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 Alpha, I let myself believe it.
That I wasn’t a monster.
That I wasn’t my father.
That I was worthy.
Not of power.
Not of fear.
But of love.
And 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.