The Council Chamber was already alive with tension when we arrived.
Not the usual hum of political maneuvering, the quiet whispers behind enchanted fans, the subtle power plays disguised as diplomacy. No. This was different. Sharper. Hungrier. The air tasted like iron and betrayal, thick with the scent of vampire blood and fae illusion. The twelve thrones of the Supernatural Council loomed in a semicircle, each occupied, each radiating judgment. At the center, Lord Cassian sat like a vulture on his perch, eyes gleaming with cold triumph. His fingers tapped once, twice, against the armrest—slow, deliberate, a countdown.
Kaelen didn’t flinch. Didn’t look at him. Just walked to his throne, back straight, jaw set, his hand still gripping mine. I didn’t pull away. Not because I wanted to be seen as his. Not because the bond demanded it. But because for the first time, I *needed* to feel him. Needed to know he was real. That Lira’s lies were just that—lies. That the bite mark on her throat wasn’t a claim. That the ring she wore wasn’t his. That he hadn’t spent the night tangled in her body, whispering her name in the dark.
But the doubt was there.
Like a splinter beneath the skin. Small. Sharp. Poisonous.
And the bond—
It felt it too.
It pulsed between us, not with heat, not with desire, but with something darker: *fear*. Not mine. Not his. Ours. A shared tremor, a warning. The bond wasn’t just a tether. It was a mirror. And right now, it was showing me a reflection I didn’t like.
Weak.
Doubtful.
Jealous.
“Representatives,” Cassian began, voice oily, smooth, “we gather under emergency decree. Last night, a magical surge disrupted the Ward Room—nearly breached the containment wards. The cause?” He turned, those ancient eyes locking onto me. “The Eclipse Heir’s unstable magic. And the presence of a fated bond—unverified, untested, *unproven*.”
A murmur rippled through the chamber. The werewolf Alpha growled low in his throat. The Summer Fae diplomat, Lysara, smirked, her gown shifting from gold to green to the color of poisoned honey. Even the witch representative—a wizened woman with eyes like cracked obsidian—leaned forward, intrigued.
“The bond,” Cassian continued, “is a sacred thing. A union blessed by magic, witnessed by the Council. But this?” He gestured to our joined hands. “This is not a bond. It is a *farce*. A political stunt. And until it is proven—until the Eclipse Heir proves her *worth*—I move to suspend the union. To separate the pair. To—”
“No.”
The word tore from my throat before I could stop it. Raw. Defiant. *Mine*.
Every eye turned to me.
I didn’t care. I stood, pulling my hand from Kaelen’s, stepping forward until I was in the center of the chamber, the obsidian floor cold beneath my boots. “You don’t get to decide what’s real,” I said, voice steady, cutting through the silence. “You don’t get to tear apart what magic has bound.”
Cassian smiled. “And what magic would that be, little witch? The magic that let your mother die? The magic that let Kaelen D’Vire walk away unmarked? Or the magic that now claims *you* as the Eclipse Heir—when no one has seen you wield a single spell?”
My pulse spiked.
He was goading me. Testing me. And I was falling for it.
But I couldn’t stop.
“You killed her,” I said, voice low, dangerous. “You framed Kaelen. You think I don’t know? I read her journal. I know the truth.”
The chamber erupted.
Gasps. Hisses. The werewolf Alpha bared his fangs. Lysara’s illusion flickered, revealing her true face—sharp, cruel, *afraid*.
Cassian didn’t move. Just watched me, those dead eyes unblinking. “A journal? A *forgery*? You expect us to believe the ravings of a dead woman? A half-blood’s desperate attempt to legitimize her claim?”
“It’s not a claim,” I said, stepping closer. “It’s the truth. And if you’re so confident, then test me. Let me prove it. Let me prove I’m the Eclipse Heir.”
“Oh, I will,” he purred. “But not with words. Not with lies. With *blood*.”
He raised a hand. A panel in the floor slid open. A pedestal rose, carved from black stone, etched with ancient runes. On it—a dagger. Not silver. Not iron. *Obsidian*. The same material as the Ward Room. The same material as the Black Sigil.
My breath caught.
“The Trial of Blood,” Cassian said. “A ritual of truth. You will cut your palm. You will speak your claim. And if the magic accepts you—if the sigil *glows*—then you are who you say you are. If not…” He smiled. “Then you are an imposter. And the penalty is death.”
My heart pounded.
This wasn’t just a test.
It was a trap.
If I refused, I was weak. If I failed, I was dead. If I succeeded—
Then I was exposed. A threat. A target.
But I couldn’t back down.
Not now.
Not after everything.
I stepped forward, reached for the dagger—
“Wait.”
Kaelen’s voice. Cold. Commanding.
I turned.
He stood, his eyes molten gold, his presence a storm in the chamber. “If she bleeds,” he said, “then I bleed with her. The bond is mutual. The trial should be too.”
Cassian’s lip curled. “You would risk your life for her? For a woman who may not even be Eclipse?”
“I would risk it for the truth,” Kaelen said, stepping forward, taking my hand. “And for my bondmate.”
The word—*bondmate*—hit me like a blade.
Not just a title. Not just a political label.
A *claim*.
And for the first time, I didn’t flinch.
I nodded.
We stepped to the pedestal together.
Side by side.
Hands joined.
And then—
We cut.
The obsidian blade bit deep, drawing blood that dripped onto the stone in slow, heavy drops. Mine—dark, rich, threaded with indigo. His—black as midnight, thick with ancient power. The blood pooled, mixed, and then—
The sigil *glowed*.
Not red. Not gold.
Indigo.
Bright. Pulsing. *Alive*.
The chamber stilled.
Even Cassian’s breath hitched.
“It accepts us,” Kaelen said, voice low, rough. “The magic knows the truth. She is Eclipse. And I am hers.”
“It’s not enough,” Cassian snapped. “The bond could be manipulating the ritual. We need proof of her power. Real power. Not just blood.”
“Then give it to me,” I said, stepping forward, my palm still bleeding. “Give me a challenge. A test. And I’ll show you what I can do.”
He smiled. Slow. Dangerous. “Very well. The Eclipse Coven was known for one thing above all—time-bending. If you are truly their heir, then *stop time*. Just for a second. Just long enough for us to see.”
My stomach dropped.
Time-bending.
Not just a rumor. Not just a myth.
A legacy.
And I had felt it—last night, in the Ward Room, when my fingers brushed the sigil. When time had *slowed*. Just for a second. Just enough to know.
But could I do it on command?
Could I summon it now, in front of them all, with Cassian’s eyes burning into my soul?
I looked at Kaelen.
He didn’t speak. Just nodded. Once. A silent promise. A silent strength.
I turned back to the chamber.
Closed my eyes.
Reached deep—into the well of my magic, into the blood of my mother, into the bond that tied me to him. I felt it—Eclipse power. Not just witch. Not just vampire. *Both*. A fusion. A fire. A storm.
And then—
I *pulled*.
Not with force.
Not with rage.
But with *need*.
For truth.
For justice.
For him.
The air stilled.
Not a breath. Not a whisper. Not a heartbeat.
Time—
Stopped.
I opened my eyes.
The Council was frozen. Cassian’s sneer, caught mid-sneer. Lysara’s illusion, half-shifted. The werewolf Alpha, fangs bared, caught in a snarl. Even the torches—frozen mid-flicker, casting long, still shadows across the marble.
And Kaelen—
He was moving.
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 did it,” he said, voice the only sound in the world.
“You can see me?” I whispered.
“I’m your bondmate,” he said. “Your magic is mine. Your time is mine.”
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 in that frozen moment—
I didn’t see an enemy.
I saw a partner.
A protector.
A *king*.
And I—
I was his queen.
Time snapped back.
The chamber erupted—voices, shouts, demands for explanation. Cassian’s face was a mask of fury. Lysara hissed, her illusion shattering completely. The werewolf Alpha dropped to one knee, bowing his head.
“She is Eclipse,” he growled. “The magic has spoken.”
“Then the bond is real,” Kaelen said, stepping forward, his voice cutting through the noise. “And she is mine.”
Cassian stood. “This changes nothing. The surge in the Ward Room—”
“Was caused by *you*,” I snapped. “You disrupted the wards. You wanted me to fail. You wanted me dead.”
“Prove it,” he sneered.
“I don’t have to,” I said. “Because I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
And then—
I turned.
Walked out.
Kaelen followed.
—
We didn’t speak until we were back in the D’Vire residence.
The moment the door closed, I spun on him. “You let her wear your shirt,” I said, voice shaking. “You let her say those things. You let her *touch* you.”
“I didn’t let her do anything,” he said, stepping closer. “She attacked me. I defended myself. The bite mark is a wound, not a claim.”
“And the ring?”
“Forged. Stolen. I don’t know. But it’s not mine.”
“Then why didn’t you mark me?” I demanded, tears burning behind my eyes. “Why haven’t you claimed me? Why do I have to *fight* for you while she parades around in your clothes, flaunting a bite that isn’t even real?”
He stilled.
Then—
He cupped my face, his touch cold, gentle. “Because I want you to *choose* me. Not because of the bond. Not because of magic. But because you *want* to.”
“And if I do?”
“Then I’ll mark you,” he said, voice rough. “And I’ll never let you go.”
My breath caught.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll wait,” he said. “Until you’re ready. 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.
And then—
I snapped.
Not with words.
Not with magic.
But with *fury*.
I shoved him—hard—against the wall, my hands fisted in his tunic, my body pressed to his. “You don’t get to say that,” I hissed. “You don’t get to stand there and talk about love like you haven’t spent your whole life hiding from it. Like you haven’t let me hate you for two centuries. Like you haven’t let me *bleed* for you.”
He didn’t fight. Didn’t move. Just watched me, those golden eyes searching, *testing*. “I know,” he said. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” I spat. “You don’t get to—”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not soft. Not gentle.
But *desperate*.
Furious.
*Hungry*.
His mouth crashed into mine, his fangs grazing my bottom lip, just enough to draw 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, 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—
I bit him.
Not playfully. Not teasingly.
But *hard*—my teeth sinking into his bottom lip, drawing blood, *claiming*.
He froze.
Then—
He growled.
Low. Deep. *Mine*.
And then—
He kissed me again.
Harder.
Deeper.
*Ours*.
And in that moment—
The bond didn’t flare.
It *sang*.
And when we finally broke apart, breathless, swollen-lipped, blood on our mouths, I whispered—
“You’re not mine.”
He pulled back, just slightly, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t name.
Then—
He smirked. Slow. Dangerous. “You’re already marked.”
And I knew—
He was right.
Not by fang.
Not by ritual.
But by something deeper.
Something older.
Something I couldn’t run from.
Because I wasn’t just his bondmate.
I was his *queen*.
And I would never be free.
And I didn’t want to be.