The kiss didn’t last.
Not because I pulled away.
Not because he stopped.
But because the world *exploded*.
One second, I was in his arms—his mouth soft against mine, his hands warm on my skin, the bond humming between us like a live wire set free. The next—light. Sound. A shockwave so violent it ripped through the chamber, shattering the chandelier above, sending glass raining down like stars.
We broke apart, stumbling back, hands flying to our weapons—instinct, not thought. My magic surged to the surface, the Mark of the Eclipse flaring hot against my collarbone, casting indigo shadows across the obsidian walls. Kaelen moved fast—too fast—positioning himself between me and the door, fangs bared, eyes molten gold.
“Stay behind me,” he snapped.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I shot back, already scanning the room. No intruders. No breach. Just the aftermath—shattered glass, flickering torches, the silver case rattling on the table.
Then I felt it.
The air—thick. Charged. Like before a storm. Like when the ley lines surged during a blood moon. But this wasn’t natural. This was *magic*. Raw. Unstable. And it was coming from *me*.
“The wards,” I whispered.
Kaelen turned, just slightly. “What?”
“The wards,” I repeated, stepping toward the door. “They’re failing. Something’s disrupting the circuit.”
He didn’t argue. Just followed as I moved into the corridor, boots silent on the stone. The deeper we went, the stronger the pulse—low, rhythmic, like a heartbeat beneath the floor. The lower levels. The ritual wing. Where the Blood Oath chamber was. Where the ancient sigils were carved into the walls, designed to contain volatile magic.
And then—
A flicker.
From the chamber at the end of the hall. The Ward Room—the one I’d only seen once, when he’d forced the blood-sharing. Silver runes lined the walls, glowing faintly, pulsing in time with the surge. But something was wrong. The light was erratic. Flickering. Dying.
“It’s overloading,” I said, already moving. “If the containment fails, the backlash could level half the Accord.”
Kaelen grabbed my arm. “You don’t know what’s in there.”
“And you do?” I yanked free. “Or are you just afraid I’ll find something else you’ve been hiding?”
His jaw clenched. “This isn’t about secrets. It’s about *survival*.”
“Then move.”
I didn’t wait. I stepped into the chamber—and the door slammed shut behind me.
Not by force.
By magic.
The runes flared crimson, then black, sealing the entrance with a hiss of energy. I turned, heart pounding, and saw Kaelen on the other side, pounding on the reinforced stone, his voice muffled.
“Indigo!”
“I’m fine!” I shouted back. “The wards are failing—the sigil above the door needs to be reactivated. There’s a manual override.”
He stopped. Looked up. Found it—a small, circular sigil embedded in the ceiling, pulsing weakly. The control node. But it was too high. Too far. And the air was already thick with unstable magic, crackling like static across my skin.
I needed to reach it.
And I needed to do it fast.
“Stand back!” I called. “I’m going to try to jump.”
He hesitated—then stepped away, pressing against the far wall. I took a breath, focused my magic, and ran. I leapt, fingers stretching—
Missed.
I landed hard, knees buckling, pain shooting up my legs. The sigil flickered, weaker now. The runes on the walls dimmed. The air grew heavier, pressing against my chest like a weight.
“Again,” I muttered, pushing myself up.
Another jump. Another miss.
And then—
A spark.
From the sigil. A pulse of energy that shot down, striking the floor at my feet. I jumped back, heart racing. One more surge like that, and the entire chamber could detonate.
“You’re not going to make it,” Kaelen’s voice came through, low, controlled. “You need a boost.”
I turned. “What?”
“I said,” he repeated, voice sharp, “you need a *boost*. Let me in.”
“You can’t—”
“There’s a release mechanism on this side,” he said. “I can open it—but only if you deactivate the inner ward.”
I hesitated. Letting him in meant letting him *close*. Me. Trapped. Alone. With him.
But the alternative was death. Or worse—destruction. If the wards failed, the Accord would know. Cassian would know. And if they discovered the bond was still unstable—
I couldn’t risk it.
“Fine,” I said, stepping to the wall. “But if you try anything—”
“I won’t,” he said. “But we’re running out of time.”
I pressed my palm to the rune panel. Whispered the release phrase. The door groaned open—just enough for him to slip through—then slammed shut again, sealing us both inside.
We were locked in.
Together.
And the air was already thick with magic—and something else.
Heat.
Not from the failing wards.
From *us*.
The bond pulsed, low and insistent, feeding on the proximity, on the tension, on the sheer *need* that had been building since the moment our hands touched. My skin burned. My breath came fast. The Mark of the Eclipse flared, a slow, steady throb that matched the rhythm of my pulse.
Kaelen didn’t move. Just stood there, backlit by the flickering runes, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those molten gold irises—were dark with something I couldn’t name.
“You first,” he said, voice rough. “I’ll boost you.”
I didn’t argue. Just stepped forward, turned my back to him. “Hands on my hips. And don’t get any ideas.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured.
His hands settled on my hips—cold, firm, *possessive*. I sucked in a breath. His thumbs brushed the curve of my hipbones, just beneath the fabric of my trousers. A flicker. A test.
And my body *answered*.
Heat pooled low in my belly. My thighs clenched. The bond flared, a jolt of electricity that made me gasp.
“Ready?” he asked, voice deeper now.
“Just lift me,” I snapped.
He did.
One smooth motion—his hands tightening, lifting me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for balance. My core pressed against his abdomen. Hard. Unyielding. The contact sent a shock through me, sharp and sweet, and I bit back a moan.
“Higher,” I said, reaching.
He lifted me more, his breath hot against my neck, his chest pressed to my back. I could feel his heartbeat—slow, steady, *controlled*. But I could also feel the tension in his arms, the way his fingers dug into my hips, the way his breath hitched when I shifted.
“Almost,” I whispered, fingers stretching—
And then—
I touched it.
The sigil flared—indigo, bright, *alive*—and the runes on the walls stabilized, pulsing in a steady rhythm. The air cleared. The pressure lifted. The chamber was sealed. Stable.
We’d done it.
But I didn’t move.
Didn’t unwrap my legs.
Didn’t let go.
Because I was still in his arms. Still pressed against him. Still *close*.
And the bond—
It wasn’t calming.
It was *hungry*.
“You can put me down now,” I said, voice unsteady.
He didn’t. Just held me, his hands sliding up, over my hips, to the curve of my waist. “You sure?”
“I’m not fragile,” I snapped.
“No,” he agreed, voice low. “You’re not. You’re strong. Fierce. *Mine*.”
My breath hitched.
“You don’t get to say that,” I whispered.
“Don’t I?” His other hand moved—slow, deliberate—up my side, over my ribs, to the edge of my blouse. His thumb brushed the bare skin just above my hipbone, where my shirt had ridden up. “You’re the one who kissed me.”
“It was a mistake.”
“Liar.”
He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You wanted it. You *want* it. And you know what? So do I.”
My body arched into him, traitorous, desperate. The Mark of the Eclipse flared, a pulse of heat that made me gasp. My hands fisted in his tunic, pulling him closer.
“Say it,” he murmured, his other hand sliding up, over my stomach, to the curve of my breast. His thumb brushed the underside, just once. “Say you want me.”
“No.”
“Say it.”
“Never.”
He smirked. Slow. Dangerous. “Then I’ll make you.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not soft. Not gentle. But *hard*—his mouth crashing into mine, his fangs grazing my bottom lip, just enough to draw a bead of blood. I tried to pull away, but he held me, relentless, his tongue sliding against mine, claiming, *consuming*.
And then—
The bond *erupted*.
Fire ripped through me, not pain, but *pleasure*—white-hot, blinding, *inescapable*. My knees buckled. My hands fisted in his tunic. My body pressed into his, desperate, *needy*.
He groaned, low and deep, and lifted me higher, one hand under my thigh, the other at my back, pressing me against the wall. My legs tightened around him. My hips *grinded* against his, seeking friction, seeking *more*.
“Kaelen—” I gasped, breaking the kiss.
“Say it,” he demanded, voice rough. “Say you want me.”
“I—”
And then—
A flicker.
From the sigil above.
Not light.
Not magic.
*Time*.
It slowed.
Just for a second. Just enough for me to feel—his breath on my skin, his hands on my body, the bond pulsing between us like a second heartbeat. But also—something else. A whisper. A memory. A truth.
The Black Sigil—pulsing in Kaelen’s vault.
Calling to me.
And then—
Time snapped back.
The chamber was silent. The runes steady. The air still thick with magic—and desire.
But I wasn’t the same.
Because I knew.
The Black Sigil knew me.
It had *recognized* me.
And that meant—
I was the Eclipse Heir.
Not just by blood.
By magic.
By *fate*.
Kaelen pulled back, just slightly, his eyes searching mine. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” I lied.
But I did.
And so did the bond.
It pulsed, warm and alive, a whisper of truth I couldn’t ignore.
“You’re mine,” he murmured, thumb brushing my bottom lip, where his fangs had drawn blood. “And I’m yours. Whether you want it or not.”
I didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because for the first time—
I wasn’t sure I wanted to deny it.
—
We didn’t speak on the way back.
He carried me out—over his shoulder, like a prize, like a captive—his hand firm on my thigh, his breath cold against my skin. I didn’t fight. Didn’t protest. Just stayed where I was, silent, my mind racing.
The Black Sigil knew me.
It had *reacted*.
And if it recognized me—
Then the Council would too.
They would demand proof. A test. A revelation. And if I refused—
They’d call me a fraud.
Or worse—
They’d use it against me.
I needed to act first.
Needed to claim it before they could take it.
But I couldn’t do it alone.
And I couldn’t do it without him.
He set me down just outside my chamber, his hands lingering on my hips. “You’re not going to run,” he said, voice low. “Not from this. Not from *me*.”
“You don’t own me,” I said, stepping back.
“No,” he agreed. “But the bond does. And so does your magic.”
I didn’t answer. Just turned, hand on the door—
“Indigo.”
I stopped.
Didn’t turn.
“The Black Sigil,” he said, voice quiet. “It’s in my vault. And it’s *yours*.”
My breath caught.
He knew.
He’d felt it too.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, turning my head.
“Because you’re ready,” he said. “And because—” He stepped closer, his hand brushing mine. “I trust you.”
I stared at him. The man I had come to destroy. The man who had carried me, kissed me, *claimed* me. The man who had kept my mother’s journal sealed to protect me.
And I knew—
This wasn’t just about vengeance.
Or politics.
Or the bond.
This was about *us*.
And for the first time—
I didn’t want to destroy him.
I wanted to *keep* him.
So I did the only thing I could.
I reached for his hand.
And laced my fingers with his.
He didn’t smile.
Didn’t speak.
Just held on.
And in that moment—
The bond didn’t flare.
It *sang*.