The days bled into one another—like ink spilled across parchment, smudging the edges of time, blurring the line between memory and magic. The Black Sigil pulsed inside me now, a second heartbeat, steady and deep, resonating with the ley lines beneath the city. It wasn’t just power. It was *knowledge*. A whisper in my blood, a truth older than the Dominion, older than the Council, older than Kaelen himself.
I was Eclipse.
Not because I had taken it.
Because it had *chosen* me.
And with that truth came a new kind of weight—one that pressed not on my shoulders, but on my soul. The Council had seen. The werewolves had bowed. The witches had nodded. Even the Fae had fallen silent. But Cassian—
He was still smiling.
And that terrified me more than any blade, any spell, any lie.
Because I knew—
He wasn’t done.
—
The Blood Moon was rising.
Not just in the sky—though the crimson orb hung low over Vienna, casting long, jagged shadows across the Midnight Accord—but in the air, in the magic, in the very bones of the city. The lunar alignment was shifting. The werewolves’ heat cycles were beginning. The fae glamour thickened, laced with seduction and danger. And the bond—
It was alive.
Not just a tether. Not just a claim.
It was hungry.
I felt it every time I passed Kaelen in the corridor—his gaze locking onto mine, his fangs just visible when he turned his head, his presence a storm no one could escape. I felt it when our fingers brushed while signing Council decrees, when his hand rested on the small of my back during negotiations, when he leaned in to whisper something in my ear and his breath was cold against my skin.
And I felt it at night.
In the dark. In the silence. In the moments when I lay in my chamber, fully clothed, back stiff, eyes on the ceiling, the mating mark pulsing beneath my collar like a brand.
It pulled.
Not pain. Not magic.
Need.
Low. Deep. Real.
And the worst part?
I wanted to answer it.
—
“You’re not sleeping,” Mira said, stepping into my chamber with a tray of tea—dark, spiced, laced with vervain to calm the nerves. She didn’t push. Didn’t prod. Just set the tray on the table and poured a cup, the steam curling in the cold air.
“I don’t need to,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed, boots still on, hands in my lap. The Black Sigil hummed beneath my ribs, a low, steady pulse. The mating mark still glowed faintly, a constant, pulsing reminder of the night in the vault—the kiss, the bite, the way he’d pinned me to the wall, his body hard against mine, his voice rough with something like reverence—“You’re already marked.”
“You’re burning up,” she said, pressing a hand to my forehead. “The bond’s getting stronger. The Blood Moon’s rising. You can’t fight it forever.”
“I’m not fighting it,” I said, voice tight. “I’m *controlling* it.”
She didn’t answer. Just handed me the tea, her expression unreadable. “The wards are reacting to you. To the Sigil. To the bond. If you don’t find balance—”
“I’ll lose control,” I finished. “I know.”
She studied me—those sharp, observant eyes searching, *testing*—then nodded. “Then stop pretending you don’t want him.”
My breath caught.
“I don’t—”
“Yes, you do,” she cut in. “You saved his life. You let him in. You kissed him in the vault. You *bit* him. And now—” She stepped closer, lowered her voice. “—you’re lying here, fully clothed, pretending you’re not aching to go to him.”
I didn’t flinch. Just stared at my reflection—pale, wide-eyed, lips still slightly swollen from his kiss. I looked like a woman who had been *taken*.
And the worst part?
I *wanted* to be.
“It’s not that simple,” I said, voice low. “I came here to destroy him. To take back what was mine. To bury the man who let my mother die.”
“And now?”
“Now,” I said, closing my eyes, “I’m not sure I want to destroy him anymore.”
She didn’t answer. Just stepped back, folding her arms. “Then stop running from it. Or it’ll consume you.”
—
Kaelen was waiting in the main chamber.
He stood by the hearth, backlit by the low fire, his silhouette sharp against the flickering shadows. He’d changed into formal attire—black velvet tunic, silver clasp at the throat, the D’Vire crest etched into the metal. His hair was slicked back, his fangs just visible when he turned his head. 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.
He turned as I entered, those molten gold eyes locking onto mine. He didn’t speak. Just held out a hand.
I hesitated.
Then took it.
The bond *sang*—soft, warm, *alive*—as our fingers laced. His skin was cold, but the connection between us was anything but. It pulsed, a second heartbeat, his rhythm, *ours*.
“You’re tense,” he said, voice low.
“I’m not afraid,” I said.
“You should be.” He stepped closer, his free hand brushing the back of my neck, just above the collar. “The Blood Moon is rising. The bond is stronger. And Cassian—” His thumb pressed lightly against the fabric, right over the mating mark. “—he’s not done.”
My jaw clenched. “Let him try.”
“He will,” Kaelen said. “And he’ll use everything—your blood, your magic, *this*.”
“Then we’ll fight back,” I said. “Together.”
He studied me—those golden eyes searching, *testing*—then nodded. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not hard. Not angry. But *soft*—a press of lips, a whisper of want, a promise. My hands fisted in his tunic, pulling him closer. The bond flared, warm and alive, a pulse of heat that made me gasp.
And then—
A knock.
Sharp. Insistent.
The door.
We broke apart.
“Kaelen,” came Silas’s voice, muffled. “The Council is convening. Cassian’s calling an emergency session.”
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 took my hand.
And we walked out.
—
The Council Hall was already half-full when we arrived.
Chandeliers of frozen moonlight hung above, casting long shadows across the black marble. The twelve thrones loomed in a semicircle, each marked with the sigil of its species. Vampires in velvet and silver. Werewolves in furs and bone. Fae in illusion-woven silk. Witches in ink-stained linen.
And at the center—Cassian.
He sat in his throne, back straight, hands resting on the armrests, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those ancient, dead eyes—flicked to me the moment I entered. To the collar of my blouse. To the faint, indigo glow beneath the fabric.
He knew.
And he was *smiling*.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just kept walking, my boots clicking once, twice, three times on the stone. Kaelen’s hand was still in mine, his grip firm, his presence a storm at my side.
We took our seats—side by side, per Council decree. The bond pulsed between us, low and insistent, feeding on the tension, on the hatred, on the sheer *need* that had been building since the moment our hands touched.
“Representatives,” Cassian began, voice oily, smooth, “we gather under emergency decree. The Blood Moon rises. The heat cycles begin. And the bond between the High Sovereign and the so-called Eclipse Heir grows stronger.”
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
“And with it,” he continued, “comes a new danger. A *forbidden* one. The mating mark—unbitten, unclaimed, *fated*—is a threat to the purity of our kind. To the sanctity of our bloodlines. To the balance of power.”
My pulse spiked.
“You dare—” Kaelen began, voice a whip.
“I dare,” Cassian cut in. “Because the Council has a right to know. Is this bond truly fated? Or is it a curse? A manipulation? A spell woven by a half-blood witch to bind the High Sovereign to her will?”
The chamber erupted.
Voices. Shouts. Demands for proof.
And then—
He raised a hand.
“There is a way,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “A test. A *public* test. The bond must be proven. Not in secret. Not in shadows. But here. Now. In front of us all.”
My stomach dropped.
“What kind of test?” I asked, voice steady.
“A simple one,” he said, smiling. “A night. Shared. In the same chamber. Fully clothed. But *together*. And when the Blood Moon reaches its peak—” He paused. “—we will see if the bond holds. If it is truly fated. Or if it is merely… *lust*.”
I stared at him.
It wasn’t just a test.
It was a trap.
A public spectacle. A humiliation. A chance to expose me, to discredit me, to make me fail in front of the entire Council.
And if I refused—
I was weak. A fraud. A coward.
But if I succeeded—
I was a threat. A target. A woman who had to be destroyed.
I looked at Kaelen.
He didn’t speak. Just nodded. Once. A silent promise. A silent strength.
I turned back to Cassian.
“Very well,” I said, standing. “I accept.”
—
The chamber was prepared in minutes.
A vast, circular space beneath the Council Hall, the ceiling enchanted to mimic the night sky. The Blood Moon hung low, its light crimson and cold, casting long shadows across the marble floor. A single bed stood in the center—large, draped in black silk, furs piled high. Around the edges, the Council members stood, watching, waiting, *judging*.
Kaelen offered his hand.
I took it.
We stepped into the center of the room.
“You don’t have to do this,” he murmured, voice low.
“Yes, I do,” I said. “For my mother. For the coven. For *us*.”
He didn’t answer. Just held me closer, his cold fire wrapping around me like a storm.
We lay down—fully clothed, side by side, hands at our sides. The bond hummed between us, a live wire, feeding on the proximity, on the tension, on the sheer *need* that had been building since the moment our hands touched.
And then—
The Blood Moon reached its peak.
The chamber erupted—voices, shouts, demands for proof. Cassian stood, those ancient eyes wide with something I hadn’t seen in centuries: hope. But I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just lay there, heart pounding, breath shallow, the mark burning on my skin like a brand.
And then—
He rolled toward me.
Not fast. Not breaking the stillness. But *aware*. His eyes—golden, molten—locked onto mine. His hand reached for mine, slow, deliberate, and took it.
“You’re trembling,” he said, voice the only sound in the world.
“I’m not afraid,” I said.
“No,” he agreed. “You’re *awake*.”
And then—
He pulled me close.
Not with force. Not with magic.
But with *need*.
For truth.
For justice.
For him.
I didn’t fight.
Didn’t pull away.
Just let him hold me—his arm around my waist, his hand on my hip, his breath cold against my hair. The bond didn’t flare.
It *sang*.
And when the Blood Moon began to wane, the chamber still, the Council silent, I whispered—
“You’re not mine.”
He didn’t answer. Just pressed his forehead to mine, his grip tightening.
And I knew—
He didn’t need to.
Because I already was.
And I would be.
No matter the cost.