The silence after I speak is heavier than stone.
She’s still on the couch, one leg stretched out, the other bent, her bare foot inches from my knee. Blood beads at her ankle—dark, rich, laced with something deeper. Witch blood. Wolf blood. Emberborn. I can smell it. Taste it in the air. It calls to me like a war drum in my veins.
But it’s not just the blood.
It’s her.
Zara.
Not Selene. Not the noble witch from the East. Not the mask she wears so well. The real one. The fire beneath the ice. The defiance in her spine, the fury in her eyes, the way her breath hitches when I touch her—like she hates it. Like she wants it.
Like she’s mine.
I shouldn’t have grazed her pulse. I knew that the second my fang caught the delicate skin. The bond flared—hot, violent, hungry—and for a heartbeat, I wanted to sink my teeth in. To claim her. To make her scream my name as the mark sealed into her flesh.
But I didn’t.
Because if I had, I wouldn’t have stopped at the bite.
And if I’d taken her here, now, on this couch, with her blood on my lips and her body arching beneath me, the Council would have no choice but to recognize the bond as consummated. No more games. No more denials. She’d be mine in every legal, magical, and biological sense.
And I don’t want it like that.
I don’t want her broken. I don’t want her compliant. I don’t want her because she has no choice.
I want her to choose me.
Even if she doesn’t know it yet.
Even if she fights it every step of the way.
“You’re staring,” she says, voice sharp, pulling me back.
I don’t look away. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s a scratch.”
“It’s a wound.” I press the cloth harder. She flinches, but doesn’t pull back. “And you’re in my territory. That makes it my responsibility.”
“Your territory?” She lifts a brow. “The Council Hall is neutral ground.”
“Not the Northern Wing. Not this room. Not you.” I tilt my head, watching her. “You’re under my protection now. Whether you like it or not.”
Her lips part—probably to argue—but before she can speak, the door bursts open.
Riven steps in, his expression grim. “Alpha. The Council summons you. All members. Immediate session.”
I don’t move. “What for?”
“The bonding ritual.”
My jaw tightens. Of course.
The fated bond is sacred. Unbreakable. And in the eyes of the law, once it’s triggered, it must be formalized within seven days—or both parties face consequences. For her, execution. For me? Bond fever. A slow descent into madness, rage, and feral hunger. The Marked Alphas were never meant to deny their mates. Our blood won’t allow it.
I stand, turning to Zara. “You’re coming with me.”
“I’m not your pet,” she snaps.
“No. You’re my mate.” I hold out my hand. “And if you want to live, you’ll walk beside me.”
She glares at me. Then, slowly, she takes my hand.
Her skin is warm. Electric. The bond surges between us, a pulse of heat that travels up my arm and settles low in my gut. I don’t let go.
We follow Riven through the winding corridors of the Spire, the stone walls glowing faintly with embedded runes. The deeper we go, the colder the air becomes. The Council Chamber is at the heart of the mountain, shielded from magic, from eavesdropping, from escape.
When we reach the great obsidian doors, Riven stops. “Only you and the bonded may enter, Alpha.”
I glance at Zara. “Stay close.”
She doesn’t answer. But she doesn’t pull away.
The doors open with a low groan, revealing the circular chamber. The five thrones hover above the dais, the Council members already seated. The Fae Queen lounges, her bare feet dangling. The Vampire Sovereign sits rigid, his crimson eyes fixed on us. The Human Liaison shifts nervously. The Elder Pack representative—Garrik, a grizzled werewolf with a scarred muzzle—leans forward, sniffing the air.
And then there’s him.
Lord Vexis.
Vampire Elder. Creator of the Marked Alphas. The man who poured his cursed blood into my veins centuries ago and called it a gift.
He smiles as we enter. A slow, serpentine thing. “Ah. The bonded pair. How… predictable.”
I don’t respond. I guide Zara to the center of the chamber, where a silver sigil is etched into the floor—the Bonding Circle. The ritual site.
The High Oracle rises, her voice echoing. “By the laws of the Dark Council, when a fated bond is triggered between two supernaturals, a formal union must be declared within seven days. Failure to comply results in execution for the unworthy, and bond fever for the Alpha.”
Her gaze lands on Zara. “Lady Selene Vey. Witch of the Eastern Coven. Do you acknowledge the bond?”
Zara’s fingers twitch in mine. I feel her pulse jump. She’s terrified. But she lifts her chin.
“I do not.”
A murmur ripples through the chamber.
Vexis chuckles. “Bold. Foolish. But bold.”
The Oracle’s eyes narrow. “The bond does not lie. Your scent, your magic, your blood—all align with Kaelen Dain. Denial is punishable by death.”
“Then punish me,” Zara says, voice steady. “Because I am not his mate.”
I squeeze her hand. Not in warning. In support.
Because I know what she’s doing.
She’s testing me. Testing the Council. Testing the bond itself.
And I won’t let her die for it.
“She acknowledges,” I say, loud enough for all to hear. “And she will stand by me.”
“She speaks for herself, Alpha,” the Oracle says.
“Then let her prove it.” Vexis rises, his long coat whispering against the stone. “A blood test. Now. Let the magic decide.”
Before I can object, two vampire attendants step forward, holding silver daggers and crystal vials.
“No,” I growl.
“It’s law,” Vexis says smoothly. “You know the ritual. One drop from each. If the blood merges, the bond is true. If not…” He smiles. “Well. We all know what happens then.”
Zara looks at me. For the first time, I see fear in her eyes. Not of the test. Of me. Of what I’ll do if the blood proves her lie.
I give her a slight nod. Trust me.
She doesn’t. But she holds out her hand.
The attendant makes a shallow cut across her fingertip. A single drop of blood falls into the vial—dark, shimmering with a faint red glow. Emberborn.
Then it’s my turn.
I offer my hand. The blade bites. My blood drips in—black as midnight, swirling with silver threads. Vampire and wolf. Cursed. Powerful.
The Oracle takes the vials, pours the blood into a shallow silver bowl at the center of the sigil.
Everyone watches.
And then—
The blood moves.
Not mixing.
Twining.
Her crimson stream curls around my obsidian one, spiraling together like lovers in the dark. The glow intensifies—red and silver flaring, then merging into a single, pulsing light.
The bond is true.
The chamber erupts.
“By the stars,” the Human Liaison whispers.
Garrik bares his fangs. “A true fated bond. After all these centuries.”
Vexis’s smile doesn’t waver. But his eyes—cold, ancient, calculating—flicker with something darker. Alarm.
The Oracle raises her hands. “The magic has spoken. Kaelen Dain and Zara Emberborn are bound by fate. A public bonding ceremony will be held in seven days’ time. Until then, they are to remain in proximity. The bond must not be denied.”
My chest tightens.
Seven days.
One week to convince her to stand beside me. To wear my mark. To let me inside.
And if she refuses?
I’ll burn with it.
But so will she.
Because the bond isn’t just mine. It’s ours. And if she denies it, her magic will weaken. Her body will fail. And in the end, she’ll die just as surely as if I’d slit her throat myself.
“This is a farce,” Zara says, yanking her hand back. “I didn’t consent to this.”
“Consent is irrelevant,” Vexis says. “The bond chose you. And now, the Council demands you honor it.”
“Or what?” she challenges.
“Or you die,” I say, stepping close. “And I descend into madness. And when I do, I’ll tear this city apart looking for you—even if you’re already dead.”
She stares at me. And for the first time, I see it—
Not hatred.
Not defiance.
Doubt.
“You’re enjoying this,” she whispers.
“No.” I cup her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“By forcing me into a marriage I don’t want?”
“By giving you a chance to survive.” I lower my voice, so only she can hear. “You think I wanted this? A mate who looks at me like I’m the monster in her nightmares? Who carries her mother’s death in her eyes every time she sees me?”
Her breath catches.
“I didn’t sign that order,” I say. “My blood was used without my consent. Just like they used it to make me this—” I gesture to myself. “—this thing. But I’m still here. Still fighting. And if you think for one second that I’ll let you throw your life away because you hate me, you’re wrong.”
She doesn’t speak.
But she doesn’t pull away.
“Seven days,” I say. “That’s all I’m asking. Stand with me. Let them see the bond. Let them believe it. And in return—” I lean in, my lips brushing her ear. “—I’ll help you find the truth about your mother.”
Her body tenses. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” I pull back, meeting her gaze. “Or are you just afraid to hope?”
The Oracle clears her throat. “The decree is final. You will prepare for the ceremony. Dismissed.”
I don’t wait. I take Zara’s hand and lead her out, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the weight of the decision hanging over us.
When we’re alone in the corridor, she yanks her hand free. “You had no right.”
“I had every right. You’re mine.”
“I’m not a possession.”
“No.” I turn to face her, blocking her path. “You’re my mate. And whether you like it or not, I will protect you. Even from yourself.”
She glares at me. “And what happens in seven days? When the ceremony comes? You think I’ll just let you mark me?”
“No.” I step closer, caging her against the wall. “I think you’ll ask me to.”
Her breath hitches. Her pupils dilate. The bond flares between us, a wave of heat that makes my fangs lengthen, my pulse roar.
“You’re arrogant,” she whispers.
“I’m certain.” My hand slides to her hip, pulling her against me. “And you feel it too. The pull. The need. The way your body betrays you every time I touch you.”
She doesn’t deny it.
“I hate you,” she says.
“Good.” I brush my lips over hers—just a whisper. “Hate me. Fight me. But don’t you dare walk away.”
She closes her eyes. “I came here to destroy you.”
“Then do it.” I press my forehead to hers. “But do it after you’ve seen the truth. After you’ve felt what we could be.”
For a heartbeat, she leans into me.
Then she shoves me back. “I’ll play your game. For seven days. But if you betray me—”
“I won’t.”
“—I’ll burn you alive.”
I smile. “Promises, promises.”
She turns and walks away, her boots clicking on stone.
I watch her go.
Seven days.
One week to break her walls.
One week to make her mine.
And if I have to, I’ll burn with her to do it.