The dreams began the night after the vow.
Not visions. Not memories. Not even nightmares in the way most would understand them—no claws, no blood, no fire. These were whispers. Soft. Silken. A voice that curled through the edges of sleep like smoke, familiar in a way that made my fangs ache and my magic flare beneath my skin before I even opened my eyes.
“You think you’ve won.”
Not a question. Not a taunt.
A promise.
I woke gasping, my hand flying to my stomach, my claws pressing into the sheets. The bond hummed beneath my skin—warm, steady—but there was a thread of cold running through it, thin and sharp, like a needle of ice buried deep. Kaelen stirred beside me, his gold eyes opening in the dark, his hand instantly finding mine, his thumb brushing the pulse at my wrist.
“Again?” he murmured.
I nodded, unable to speak, my throat tight with something deeper than fear—recognition. Because the voice wasn’t just familiar.
It was hers.
Selene.
Dead. Exiled. Or so we’d believed.
But death didn’t mean silence in our world. Not for vampires. Not for those who fed on memory, on scent, on the lingering taste of blood and betrayal.
And Selene had tasted me.
Not my blood. Not my magic.
But my jealousy.
The night she’d kissed Kaelen at the gala, I’d erupted—fire magic, fangs, fury—revealing myself as hybrid, shattering the illusion of control. And in that moment, I’d given her power. Not over me. Not over him.
Over the bond.
“She’s not gone,” I whispered, my voice raw. “She’s in the bond. In the memory. In the way I still feel her lips on his skin when I close my eyes.”
Kaelen didn’t flinch. Just pulled me closer, his body warm against mine, his breath steady against my neck. “Then we burn her out.”
“And if it’s not just her?” I asked. “What if it’s the Hollow Witch? What if it’s the Iron Clan? What if it’s all of them, feeding on the one thing they think can still break us?”
“Love?” he said, turning me gently, his gold eyes searching mine in the dark. “Then let them try. Because the bond isn’t just fire and storm. It’s truth. And truth doesn’t die in dreams.”
I didn’t answer.
Just kissed him—slow, deep, a vow sealed in breath and heat. His lips met mine, hot and demanding, his tongue sliding against my lower lip, forcing it open. I moaned—soft, broken—my body arching into his, my fingers clutching his shoulders. The bond flared, not with need, not with denial, but with defiance. I could feel it—his love, his fury, his surrender. And I gave it back. My fire, my fear, my need—pouring into him like a river.
When we broke apart, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths ragged, he spoke.
“We don’t run from ghosts,” he said. “We face them. In daylight. In front of the pack. In front of the world. So they know—so she knows—that I am yours. Not because of magic. Not because of blood. But because I choose to be.”
I didn’t argue.
Just nodded.
And then—
The fortress screamed.
Not with fire. Not with storm.
With memory.
A howl tore through the night—raw, broken, not from the kennels, not from the sentries, but from deep within the heart of the fortress, from the war room, from the very stone of the Heart Grove. I was on my feet before I even realized I’d moved, my robe fluttering in the wind, my magic flaring at my fingertips. Kaelen was already at the door, his coat of storm-gray silk open at the throat, his fangs bared, his claws flexing.
We didn’t speak.
Just moved.
Not through the corridors. Not down the stairs.
Through.Fire and storm. Garnet and Thorne. Queen and King. Mate and mate.
We reached the Heart Grove in seconds.
The runes on the stone were dark. The air was thick with the scent of old blood, of roses, of something colder—death. And in the center—
Riven.
On his knees. His dagger at his throat. His dark eyes wide, unfocused, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. And above him—
Nothing.
Just shadow.
But I could feel it. The presence. The pull. Like a hook in my chest, dragging me toward the memory of a kiss I’d never given, of a claim I’d never made, of a betrayal I’d never committed.
“Selene,” I whispered.
And then—
She laughed.
Not from one place. Not from one voice.
From everywhere.
Low. Cruel. Victorious.
“You think you’ve won,” the voice echoed, not from the air, but from the bond itself, from the scar on my neck, from the memory of her lips on Kaelen’s, from the way my body had burned with jealousy that night. “You think love breaks the curse? You think a vow in daylight can silence the ghosts of the past?”
“She’s using the bond,” Kaelen growled, stepping in front of me, his body a wall of storm and iron. “She’s latched onto the memory. The pain. The doubt.”
“And she’s using Riven to reach us,” I said, my voice steady. “She knows he’s loyal. That he’d die before he betrayed us. So she’s making him the vessel.”
“Then we take her out,” Kaelen said, his gold eyes burning. “Together.”
I didn’t hesitate.
Just stepped forward, my hand rising to the sigil on my thigh, my magic flaring—garnet-red, hot and wild. The bond hummed beneath my skin, not with need, not with denial, but with truth. I could feel her—Selene—coiled in the shadows, feeding on the memory of that kiss, on the scent of Kaelen’s skin, on the way my body had burned with jealousy.
And I knew—
She wasn’t just trying to break us.
She was trying to become me.
“You think you’re the only one who can wear silk and fire?” I said, my voice low, rough. “You think you’re the only one who can taste his blood, his breath, his soul?”
The shadow shivered.
And then—
Riven screamed.
Not in pain. Not in fear.
In memory.
His body arched, his dagger clattering to the stone, his hands flying to his head as visions erupted behind his eyes—Kaelen and Selene in his chambers, her lips on his neck, his hands in her hair, the scent of blood and sex rising from the sheets. The memory wasn’t real. We both knew that. Kaelen had never claimed her. Never even kissed her. But Selene had made it feel real. For him. For me. For the pack.
And now—
She was making Riven relive it.
“She’s using his loyalty against him,” I said, stepping forward. “She knows he saw it. That he believed it. That it nearly broke him.”
“Then we give him a new memory,” Kaelen said, stepping beside me, his storm-gray magic joining mine. “One that burns brighter.”
I didn’t argue.
Just reached for him—my fingers lacing with his, my magic flaring, not with fire, but with truth. The bond screamed—not with need, not with desire, but with unity. Fire and storm. Garnet and Thorne. Queen and King. Mate and mate.
Together.
And then—
We spoke.
Not in words. Not in spells.
In truth.
“I am Garnet Hollow,” I said, my voice clear, steady. “Daughter of fire. Heir of thorn. Mate of storm. Mother of light. And I claim this bond. I claim this life. I claim this truth. Not by magic. Not by curse. But by choice. By love. By fire.”
Kaelen’s voice joined mine, deep, resonant, unshakable. “I am Kaelen Thorne. Alpha of storm. King of iron. Mate of fire. Father of light. And I claim this bond. I claim this life. I claim this truth. Not by magic. Not by blood. But by choice. By love. By storm.”
The runes on the stone flared—garnet and silver, fire and moon, blood and bone. The air crackled with magic, not with denial, not with resistance, but with completion. The bond—thickened, strengthened, sealed. The fire in my veins—roared back to life. The life inside me—pulsed, strong, steady, safe.
And then—
The shadow screamed.
Not in sound. Not in fire.
In defeat.
It writhed, it twisted, it clawed at the air like a thing unmade, like a memory torn from the flesh. And then—
It vanished.
Not with a spell. Not with smoke.
With silence.
One moment, it was there. The next—gone. No trace. No scent. No magic.
Just emptiness.
Riven collapsed, his body trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I was at his side in an instant, my fingers brushing his forehead, my magic flaring—garnet-red, hot and wild—racing down my arms, into his body. I could feel it—the curse, like a black thread woven through his veins, pulsing with malice, with hunger. But it was weak. Frayed. Broken.
And then—
It dissolved.
Like ash. Like smoke. Like a lie exposed to light.
He gasped—sharp, broken—as the connection between us frayed, as the fire in his veins turned to ice, as the life inside him—
Still there.
Still alive.
“She’s gone,” I whispered, pressing a hand to his chest, feeling his heart—strong, steady, his. “She’s not in the bond. Not in the memory. Not in the fortress. She’s gone.”
Riven didn’t speak. Just looked at me—really looked at me—and nodded.
And then—
He smiled.
Not a smirk. Not a grimace.
A real smile.
Small. Rare. But real.
And I knew—
She’d lost.
Not because we were stronger.
Not because we had more power.
Because we had something she could never understand.
Truth.
Later, as we stood on the balcony of our chamber, the moon high above, the fortress quiet below, I placed my hand on my stomach, the life inside me pulsing like a second heartbeat. Kaelen pulled me into his arms, his body warm against mine, his scent—storm and iron—wrapping around me like a vow.
“She’ll come again,” he said.
“Let her,” I said. “We’ve already won.”
“How?”
“Because we chose each other,” I said. “Not because of magic. Not because of blood. But because we love each other. And that’s something she can’t control. Can’t curse. Can’t break.”
He didn’t answer.
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.