The corridors of the D’Vire residence blurred as I walked—no, *stumbled*—away from Kaelen’s study, my boots striking the obsidian floor with sharp, uneven steps. My body still burned. My core still ached. The mating mark pulsed beneath my collar like a second heartbeat, a live wire fused to my spine. And my skin—
Still warm where his hand had been.
Under my blouse. Over my breast. Thumb brushing my nipple through lace.
I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady my breath, but it was useless. My lungs refused to obey. My magic refused to settle. The Mark of the Eclipse flared, a pulse of indigo light that cast jagged shadows across the walls, as if the magic itself was *angry*.
He hadn’t stopped.
Not because of the guard. Not because of the attack.
But because I hadn’t *wanted* him to.
I had arched into his touch. Moaned into his mouth. Pressed my hips against his, *begging* without words. And when his hand slipped beneath my blouse—
I hadn’t slapped him.
I hadn’t shoved him away.
I’d *whimpered*.
A soft, broken sound—like a plea. Like a surrender.
And he’d heard it.
Of course he had. His senses were sharper than any predator’s. He’d smelled my arousal. Felt my pulse jump. Tasted the salt of my sweat on his tongue.
And he’d *used* it.
Not with cruelty. Not with malice.
But with *certainty*.
As if he already knew I was his.
As if I had no choice.
But I did.
I *did*.
I wasn’t some spellbound witch, helpless beneath the fangs of a vampire king. I was Indigo Vale. Last heir of the Eclipse Coven. A woman who had survived exile, betrayal, silence. I had come here to destroy him. To take back what was mine. To bury the man who had let my mother die.
And now—
I was standing in the hallway, one hand clutching my half-open blouse, the other pressed to the mark on my neck, trembling like a girl who’d just been kissed for the first time.
I reached my chamber, shoved the door open, and slammed it shut behind me. Locked it. Backed against the wood, heart pounding, breath ragged. My reflection stared back from the polished obsidian wall—pale, wide-eyed, lips swollen, hair tangled, blouse torn at the shoulder from Lira’s earlier attack, now half-unbuttoned from *his*.
I looked like a woman who had been *taken*.
And the worst part?
I *wanted* to be.
I stripped off the blouse, threw it into the corner, then paced, fists clenched, boots silent on the stone. The air was thick with the scent of him—cold fire, old blood, something darker, richer. I could still feel his hands on my body. Still taste his mouth on mine. Still hear his voice, rough, intimate—*“The next time I touch you, I won’t stop. Not until you’re screaming my name. Not until you’re marked. Not until you’re mine.”*
I pressed a hand to my stomach, where the memory of his touch still burned.
He thought he could break me.
Thought he could wear me down with kisses and claims and that damn *bond* that pulsed between us like a second heartbeat.
But he was wrong.
I wasn’t broken.
I was *awake*.
And I needed control.
Not over him.
Over *myself*.
—
Mira found me an hour later, sitting on the edge of the bed, fully clothed, back rigid, hands in my lap. She didn’t speak at first. Just moved to the washbasin, poured water, wet a cloth, and pressed it to my forehead. The coolness was a shock—sharp, grounding.
“You’re burning up,” she said, voice hushed.
“It’s not fever,” I said. “It’s the bond. The magic. The—” I hesitated. “—him.”
She nodded, not judging, not questioning. Just *knowing*. “It’s strong. Stronger than I’ve ever seen. The wards—they’re reacting to you. To *us*.”
“Us?”
“Me,” she said, pressing the cloth to my neck, just above the mating mark. “I’m not just your handmaiden. I’m your anchor. Your balance. And if you don’t set boundaries—”
“I know,” I said, closing my eyes. “Or it’ll consume me.”
She didn’t answer. Just stepped back, folding the cloth with careful hands. “The attack was real. Cassian’s men breached the outer wards. Silas led the counterstrike. They’re retreating.”
“And Kaelen?”
“At the gates. Giving orders. He told Silas to find you. To make sure you were safe.”
I scoffed. “Safe from what? Him?”
“From *everything*,” she said. “He’s not the enemy, Indigo. Not anymore.”
“Then why do I feel like I’m losing?”
She stepped closer, knelt in front of me, took my hands. “You’re not losing. You’re *choosing*. And that’s the hardest part.”
I looked at her—really looked. At the loyalty in her eyes. At the quiet strength I hadn’t noticed before. “You’ve always known, haven’t you? That I wouldn’t kill him.”
“I’ve always known,” she said, “that you wouldn’t survive it.”
My breath caught.
And then—
I knew what I had to do.
—
I found him at the northern gate, standing in the rain, backlit by torchlight, his black cloak soaked through, his fangs bared, his presence a storm no one dared approach. The remnants of Cassian’s forces had been driven back, their bodies littering the courtyard, their blood mixing with the downpour. Silas stood a few paces behind, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The air was thick with the scent of iron and ozone, of magic and death.
Kaelen didn’t turn as I approached. Just kept his gaze on the horizon, where the first pale light of dawn bled through the clouds.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice low, rough. “It’s not safe.”
“Neither is your study,” I said, stopping a few feet behind him.
He stilled.
Then—
He turned, those molten gold eyes locking onto mine. Rainwater streamed down his face, his hair slicked back, his jaw tight. He looked like a king. Like a predator. Like the man who had carried me, kissed me, *claimed* me.
And for the first time, I didn’t look away.
“You came to confront me,” he said, stepping closer. “To accuse me. To tell me I crossed a line.”
“You didn’t cross it,” I said, voice steady. “You *obliterated* it.”
He didn’t flinch. Just watched me, those golden eyes searching, *testing*. “And if I did? You wanted it. Your body said yes. Your magic said yes. The bond said—”
“The bond doesn’t get to decide,” I cut in, stepping forward. “*I* do.”
He stilled.
“You think because we’re bound, because the magic chose us, that you can touch me whenever you want? That you can push me until I break? That you can *claim* me without asking?” My voice rose, sharp, dangerous. “I’m not some conquest, Kaelen. I’m not your prize. I’m not your *possession*.”
“You’re my bondmate,” he said, voice low, rough. “My equal. My—”
“Then *treat* me like one,” I snapped. “Not like some fragile thing you can mold with a kiss. Not like some witch you can dominate with a touch. I came here to destroy you. And you know what? I still *could*.”
He didn’t move. Just watched me, those golden eyes dark with something I couldn’t name.
“But I won’t,” I said, voice softer now. “Because I’m starting to believe you didn’t kill her. Because I’m starting to believe you’ve been protecting me. Because I’m starting to—” I hesitated. “—*feel* something for you.”
His breath caught.
“But that doesn’t mean I’ll let you *use* me. Not for power. Not for politics. Not for *pleasure*.” I stepped closer, until we were inches apart. “If you want me—if you want *this*—then you ask. You *respect* me. You *honor* me. And you never, *ever* touch me without my consent.”
The rain fell harder. The torchlight flickered. The bond pulsed between us—low, insistent, *real*.
And then—
He knelt.
Not in submission. Not in defeat.
But in *acknowledgment*.
One knee hit the wet stone, his head bowed, his hands at his sides. Rainwater streamed down his face, his cloak pooling like spilled blood around him.
“You’re right,” he said, voice raw. “I forgot myself. I let the bond, the need, the *want*—take over. And I’m sorry.”
I stared at him. The High Sovereign of the Nocturne Dominion. The man who had ruled for centuries with an iron fist. The vampire who had never bowed to anyone.
And he was kneeling.
For *me*.
“I won’t force you,” he said, lifting his head, those golden eyes locking onto mine. “Not with magic. Not with blood. Not with *anything*. If you want me to touch you, you’ll say it. If you want me to kiss you, you’ll ask. And if you want me to claim you—” His voice dropped, rough, intimate. “—you’ll *beg* for it.”
My breath caught.
“But I won’t stop wanting you,” he said. “Not ever. And I won’t stop fighting for you. For *us*.”
The bond *pulled*—not with need. Not with desire.
With *trust*.
I reached down, took his hand, and pulled him up. His skin was cold, but the connection between us was anything but. The bond *sang*, soft and warm, a second heartbeat, *ours*.
“Then prove it,” I said, voice low. “Not with words. Not with kneeling. But with *action*.”
“How?”
“By letting me in,” I said. “By showing me the truth. Not just about my mother. Not just about Cassian. But about *you*. About why you’ve been alone for two centuries. About what you’re so afraid of.”
He stilled.
Then—
He cupped my face, his touch cold, gentle. “I’m afraid of losing you,” he said, voice raw. “Of watching you die like I watched her. Of being powerless again. And if that makes me possessive, if that makes me *obsessed*—then so be it. Because I’d rather be damned than live without you.”
My breath caught.
And then—
I did the only thing I could.
I kissed him.
Not hard. Not angry.
But *soft*—a press of lips, a whisper of want, a promise. His breath hitched. His grip tightened. And then—
He kissed me back.
Slow. Deep. *Ours*.
And in that moment—
The bond didn’t flare.
It *sang*.
—
We stood there for a long time, in the rain, in the dawn, in the silence. No words. No demands. Just the bond, humming between us, warm and alive. The mating mark still glowed, but the heat was different now. Not possession. Not claim.
Promise.
Finally, he pulled back, just slightly, his forehead pressed to mine. “You should rest,” he said, voice low. “After everything.”
“I’m not tired,” I said. “I’m *awake*.”
He smiled—just once, faint, dangerous. “Then stay with me. Not in my bed. Not yet. But in my chambers. Where I can protect you. Where I can *feel* you.”
“You don’t get to decide what I do,” I whispered.
“No,” he agreed. “But the bond does.”
And then—
A knock.
Sharp. Insistent.
The door.
We broke apart.
“Kaelen,” came Silas’s voice, muffled. “It’s urgent.”
He exhaled, long and slow, then pressed his forehead to mine. “Later,” he murmured. “This isn’t over.”
“It never is,” I said, smiling.
He turned, opened the door just enough to speak. I couldn’t hear the exchange—just low murmurs, Silas’s neutral tone, Kaelen’s clipped responses. Then the door closed.
He turned back to me.
“Cassian’s calling another emergency session,” he said, voice tight. “He’s bringing new evidence. Claims he has proof the bond is *forced*. That I used blood-sharing to control you.”
My stomach dropped.
“And if he does?”
“Then we fight,” he said, stepping closer. “Together. As equals. As bondmates. As—” He hesitated. “As lovers.”
My breath caught.
“And if I’m not ready for that?”
“Then I’ll wait,” he said, voice rough. “Until you are. Until you trust me. Until you love me.”
The word—love—hit me like a blade.
Not just a possibility.
A promise.
And I—
I wasn’t ready.
But I was close.
So close.
So I did the only thing I could.
I reached for his hand.
And laced my fingers with his.
The bond didn’t flare.
It sang.
And for the first time—
I didn’t want to destroy him.
I wanted to keep him.
And I would.
No matter the cost.