The library is a tomb of secrets.
Rows of towering black shelves stretch into shadowed heights, carved from petrified fae wood—alive, barely, pulsing with trapped magic that hums beneath my fingertips as I run them along the spines. The air is thick with dust and decay, the scent of old parchment and something darker—blood ink, maybe, or the residue of forbidden spells. Candles float in midair, their flames motionless, casting long, flickering shadows that twist like living things across the stone floor.
I shouldn’t be here.
The Restricted Archive is off-limits to all but Council members and their appointed scribes. Even Kaelen, for all his power, needs formal clearance to enter. But I found a gap in the wards—just a hairline fracture in the sigil above the eastern door, likely from the last earthquake that rattled the Spire. I slipped through like smoke.
And now I’m hunting.
My fingers trail over a leather-bound volume—Records of Hybrid Executions, 1890–1923. My breath catches. That’s within my mother’s lifetime. I pull it down, the cover cold in my hands, and flip it open. Names. Dates. Causes of death. All labeled “Purity Violations.” All signed with the Council’s sigil.
And then—
There.
Lysara Ember, Bloodline of Ember. Convicted of consorting with rogue werewolf, identity unknown. Sentence: execution by silver dagger. Signed: K.D.
K.D.
Kaelen Dain.
My vision blurs. My fingers tighten around the page. The ink smudges under my thumb, but I don’t care. I can’t breathe. The room tilts. I press my back against the shelf, sliding down until I’m crouched on the floor, the book open in my lap.
He lied.
He said he didn’t sign it. That his blood was used without consent. But here it is—his initials. His authority. His name.
“You’re mine,” he’d said, his voice rough with possession. “And I’ll help you find the truth.”
What a joke.
I slam the book shut, my pulse roaring in my ears. I came here to burn the Council. To expose the lies. To avenge my mother.
And instead, I let myself be lured into his game. I stood beside him at the gala. I let him carry me. I let him whisper in my ear, his breath hot on my skin, his hands burning through the silk of my dress.
I let him make me want him.
Shame coils in my gut, sharp and acidic. I’m not supposed to feel this. I’m not supposed to ache when he looks at me. I’m not supposed to wake up at night, drenched in sweat, my body trembling with the memory of his scent, his voice, the way his fangs grazed my pulse like a promise.
I’m supposed to hate him.
And I do.
But the bond—
It doesn’t care.
It thrums beneath my skin, a constant, maddening presence. It’s stronger now, after the blood test, after the Council’s decree. I can feel him even when he’s not near—like a shadow in my mind, a flicker of emotion I can’t name. Restlessness. Hunger. Need. And worse, I can feel my own body responding. My skin too sensitive. My breath too shallow. My core clenching with every step I take toward the truth.
I shove the book back onto the shelf and stand, wiping my hands on my trousers. I’m not here for grief. I’m here for proof.
I move deeper into the archive, past sections on vampire pacts and fae bargains, until I find it—The Purity Edict: Origins and Enforcement. I pull it down, flipping through brittle pages until I reach the appendix: a list of all Council-authorized executions since the Edict was enacted.
And there, again—
Lysara Ember. Sentence carried out by Council Enforcer K.D. Blood confirmation: verified.
Not just signed.
Confirmed.
My hands shake. I close the book slowly, pressing it to my chest. It’s over. The lie is exposed. He wasn’t framed. He wasn’t drugged. He did it.
He watched them kill her.
And now he wants me to stand beside him? To let him mark me? To become his mate?
Never.
I turn to leave—
And freeze.
The candlelight dims.
A shadow shifts at the end of the aisle.
Too tall. Too still. Too familiar.
“Looking for something?”
His voice is low. Calm. Deadly.
Kaelen steps forward, the glow of the floating flames catching the hard angles of his face, the storm-gray eyes that pin me like a blade. He’s not in armor tonight—just black trousers and a fitted shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the corded strength of his forearms. But he’s no less dangerous. If anything, this version of him—controlled, unhurried—feels more lethal.
My heart slams against my ribs. I don’t run. I don’t speak. I just stand there, the book still clutched to my chest like a shield.
“You weren’t cleared to be here,” he says, stopping a few feet away.
“Neither were you,” I shoot back.
“I’m the Alpha. I don’t need clearance.”
“And I’m your mate,” I spit the word like poison. “Doesn’t that grant me some privileges?”
His jaw tightens. “Not when you’re sneaking around like a thief.”
“Maybe I’m just looking for the truth.” I lift the book slightly. “Funny thing. It’s not what you told me.”
His eyes flicker to the cover. Then back to me. “You don’t know what you’re reading.”
“I know enough.” My voice trembles, but I hold his gaze. “Your initials. Your confirmation. You watched them kill her. You allowed it.”
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me again!” I snap, stepping forward. “I’m done with your games. Your promises. Your hands on me like you have any right—”
He moves.
Fast.
One second he’s in front of me. The next, I’m pressed against the shelf, his body caging me in, one hand braced beside my head, the other gripping my wrist, forcing the book to the floor with a hollow thud.
“You want the truth?” he growls, his face inches from mine. “Then stop running from it.”
My breath hitches. His scent floods me—pine, iron, smoke—so strong it’s almost painful. The bond flares, a wave of heat rolling through me, pooling low in my belly. My body betrays me, arching into him, seeking more.
“Get off me,” I whisper, but there’s no force behind it.
“No.” His free hand slides up my arm, over my shoulder, to my throat—not choking, not hurting. Claiming. His thumb brushes my pulse. “You feel that?” he murmurs. “Your heart. Racing. Not from fear.”
I swallow. “You don’t know what I feel.”
“I know exactly what you feel.” His voice drops, rough as gravel. “You’re wet. Aching. You want me to kiss you. You want me to bite you. You want my mark on your skin where everyone can see.”
Shame burns through me. Because he’s right.
And the worst part?
I don’t want him to stop.
“I hate you,” I breathe.
“Good.” His lips hover over mine. “Hate me. But don’t lie to yourself.”
My eyes flutter shut. I can feel his breath on my mouth. The heat of his body. The hard line of his thigh pressing between mine.
And then—
A sound.
Distant. Metallic.
A door closing.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark, unreadable. “You think I wanted this?” he asks, voice low. “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?”
“Because you are the monster,” I whisper.
“Am I?” He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “Then why does your body tremble when I touch you? Why does your magic flare when I’m near? Why does the bond burn hotter every time you try to deny it?”
I don’t answer.
Because I don’t know.
Or maybe I do.
And that’s the problem.
He pulls back, releasing me. I sag against the shelf, my legs weak. He picks up the book, flipping through it with a cold, clinical gaze.
“This record is falsified,” he says.
I laugh—sharp, bitter. “Of course it is. Everything here is.”
“Not this.” He turns the book toward me, pointing to a line in the margin. Faint. Almost invisible. “See that? The ink is different. Slightly darker. This note was added after the original entry.”
I squint. He’s right. The handwriting is the same, but the ink is fresher. “So what? Someone updated it.”
“No.” He flips to another page. “Look at the binding. The spine. This book was opened recently. The leather is still warm.”
My stomach drops. “You’re saying someone planted this?”
“I’m saying someone wants you to believe I killed her.” He closes the book, his expression unreadable. “And they’re doing a damn good job.”
I stare at him. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Because they know the bond is real. And they know that if you hate me, you’ll deny it. And if you deny it—”
“—I’ll die,” I finish.
He nods. “Bond fever doesn’t just destroy the Alpha. It kills the mate too. Your magic will fail. Your body will shut down. And in the end, you’ll beg me to mark you—just to make the pain stop.”
I press my fingers to my temples. “Then why help me? If you’re just using me to save yourself—”
“I’m not.” His voice is quiet. Final. “I didn’t sign that order. I didn’t confirm it. My blood was stolen. Used to forge my signature. And if you think for one second that I’ll let you throw your life away because someone wants to manipulate us, you’re wrong.”
I search his face. For lies. For cruelty. For the monster I’ve built him up to be.
But all I see is truth.
And something else.
Pain.
“Then who did it?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer.
But I see it in his eyes.
He knows.
And he’s protecting me from it.
Before I can press him, a chime echoes through the archive—a single, resonant tone. The wards.
Somewhere, someone’s breached the outer seal.
Kaelen’s head snaps up. “We need to go. Now.”
“Why? Who—”
“No time.” He grabs my wrist, pulling me toward the eastern door. “If they find you here, they’ll execute you on the spot. No trial. No appeal.”
“And you?” I ask as we move through the shadows. “What happens to you?”
He doesn’t look at me. “I’ll survive.”
But the bond—
If I die, he’ll descend into madness. He’ll become feral. Uncontrollable.
And yet he’s still pulling me forward.
Still protecting me.
We reach the fracture in the ward just as footsteps echo down the main aisle. Kaelen shoves me through first, then follows, sealing the gap behind us with a swipe of his hand and a muttered command in the Old Tongue.
We’re in a narrow service corridor now, dimly lit, lined with pipes and conduits that hum with residual magic. He doesn’t stop. He just keeps moving, his grip tight on my wrist, his body angled to shield me from view.
“Who was that?” I whisper.
“Vexis’s men,” he says. “Or someone working for him.”
“Why would he—”
“Because he doesn’t want us to find the truth.” He turns a corner, then stops, pressing me against the wall. “Listen to me. You can’t come back here. Not alone. Not ever. If you want to uncover what happened to your mother, you do it with me. At my side. Where I can protect you.”
I glare at him. “And if I say no?”
“Then you die.” His voice is flat. Unyielding. “And I’ll burn this city to the ground trying to get you back.”
My breath catches.
Not from fear.
From the terrifying, undeniable truth in his words.
He means it.
He’d destroy everything for me.
And I don’t know whether that makes him a monster…
Or the only man who’s ever truly seen me.
“Fine,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll work with you. But not because I trust you. Not because I believe your lies.”
“Then why?” he asks.
“Because I need to know the truth.” I lift my chin. “And if you’re standing between me and it, I’ll go through you.”
He smiles—slow, dangerous. “Try. I’ll enjoy breaking you first.”