The scent hits me before I even reach the door.
Pine. Fire. Him.
Kaelen’s scent—thick, primal, intoxicating—rolls down the corridor like a wave, clinging to the stone, seeping into my skin. It shouldn’t affect me. Not like this. Not after everything. But the bond hums beneath my wrist, the sigil pulsing in time with my heartbeat, and my body betrays me. My breath hitches. My pulse stutters. My core tightens, just slightly, just enough.
I stop.
Clutch the scroll Mira gave me tighter. My mother’s last words—They know. They’re coming. Forgive me, my star—burn in my mind, a blade I press against my ribs every time the bond whispers his, yours, forever. I came here for justice. For truth. For vengeance.
Not for this.
But the bond doesn’t care what I came for.
It only knows what I am.
His.
I force myself forward, boots silent on the black marble. The corridor narrows, torchlight flickering against the walls, shadows dancing like specters. I know where I’m going. The private wing. The Alpha’s chambers. Kaelen’s domain. No one enters without permission. No one leaves unchanged.
And yet—
I’m not supposed to be here.
Not uninvited.
But I don’t care.
I push open the heavy oak door—carved with wolves howling at the moon—and step inside.
The room is dark. Massive. A four-poster bed draped in black furs dominates the center, unmade, sheets tangled like a battlefield. A fire crackles in the hearth, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Weapons line the walls—daggers, swords, a whip coiled like a serpent. And the scent—his scent—is everywhere, thick and warm, filling my lungs like sin.
And then—
I see her.
Lysara.
She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg drawn up, the other dangling, bare feet brushing the furs. Her silver hair spills over her shoulders, loose and tousled, like she’s just woken. And she’s wearing his shirt.
Not hers. Not some ceremonial gown. His. Black. Leather-trimmed. Buttoned halfway down, revealing the curve of her breasts, the pale skin of her collarbone. The sleeves are rolled up, but I can still see the edge of something on her shoulder—a mark. A bite.
My blood turns to ice.
“Oh,” she says, turning her head slowly, a smirk curling her lips. “I didn’t expect company.”
I don’t move. Don’t speak. Just stare at her. At the shirt. At the mark.
“Looking for your mate?” she asks, voice dripping with mockery. “He’s not here. But he was. Very much so.”
My magic flares—witch-blood and Shadow Fae glamour, a storm beneath my skin. The air crackles. The torches flicker. The sigil on my wrist burns, hot and alive, and I feel it—him—flooding my mind, my body, my soul.
Mine.
Yours.
No.
But the bond doesn’t care.
It only knows the truth.
And the truth is—
I want to rip her throat out.
“You’re lying,” I say, voice low, dangerous.
She laughs. Soft. Melodic. Like she knows something I don’t. “Am I? Then why does his scent cling to me? Why does his mark burn on my skin? Why did he moan my name when he fed from me last night?”
“He wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t he?” She stands, slow, deliberate, and takes a step toward me. The shirt rides up, revealing more of her thigh. “He’s an Alpha. A predator. And I—” She runs a hand down her body. “—am everything you’re not. Soft. Obedient. Willing.”
My hands curl into fists. “You’re nothing. A pawn. A lie.”
“And you’re a ghost,” she says, stepping closer. “A shadow pretending to be flesh. He claimed you because the bond forced him. But he chose me. Again and again.”
“You’re lying,” I hiss.
“Am I?” She reaches up, fingers brushing the bite mark. “Or are you just afraid to admit that he could want someone else? That he could love someone else?”
My breath catches.
Love.
The word lands like a stone in my gut.
“He doesn’t love you,” I say. “He doesn’t love anyone.”
“Maybe not,” she says. “But he wants me. And last night—” She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “—he took me so hard I couldn’t walk this morning.”
I see red.
My magic explodes—fire and shadow, a storm of power that rips through the room. The torches snuff out. The fire in the hearth roars. The windows rattle. Lysara stumbles back, her eyes wide with fear, but I don’t stop. I advance, my hands raised, energy crackling between my fingers.
“You’re a liar,” I snarl. “A manipulator. A whore.”
“And you’re jealous,” she spits. “Pathetic. You think you’re his equal? You’re just a means to an end. A political tool. A convenience.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know he didn’t want you,” she says. “Not until the bond forced him. And even now—” She gestures to the bed. “—he comes to me. When he needs release. When he needs pleasure.”
“Liar!” I scream.
I lunge.
She dodges, but I’m faster. I grab her wrist, yank her forward, and slam her against the wall. Her head cracks against the stone. She gasps, but I don’t let go. I press my forearm to her throat, pinning her, my face inches from hers.
“You will take it back,” I growl. “Or I’ll burn your lies from your skin.”
She laughs. Choked. Desperate. “Go ahead. Burn me. He won’t care. He’ll just find another.”
“He’s mine,” I hiss.
“No,” she says. “He’s his own. And he’ll never belong to someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“A killer. A traitor. A monster.”
My magic flares—hot, vicious—and the sigil on my wrist burns, white-hot, as if the bond itself is punishing me for this rage. For this jealousy. For this need.
And then—
The door slams open.
I freeze.
Kaelen fills the doorway, tall and broad, his gold eyes blazing, his chest rising and falling like he’s been running. His coat is gone. Just black trousers, a fitted gray shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms corded with muscle. His scent—pine, fire, him—floods the room, thick and primal, and the bond surges, a jolt of heat shooting up my arm, pooling low in my belly.
“What the hell is going on?” he demands, voice like gravel.
I don’t move. Don’t look at him. Just keep my arm pressed to Lysara’s throat, my magic crackling, my body trembling with rage.
“She’s lying,” I say, voice low, dangerous. “About you. About us. About everything.”
He steps inside. Closes the door behind him. “Let her go.”
“No.”
“Cosmos.”
“She says you slept with her,” I snap, finally turning to him. “That you fed from her. That you moaned her name.”
The room stills.
Lysara smirks.
Kaelen doesn’t react. Just stares at me, his golden eyes unreadable. And then—
“Did I?” he asks.
My breath catches.
He doesn’t deny it.
He doesn’t say it’s a lie.
He just… asks.
“You didn’t answer,” I say, voice shaking. “Did you sleep with her?”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches me, his jaw tight, his fingers flexing at his sides.
“Answer me!” I scream.
“No,” he says, finally. “I didn’t sleep with her.”
Relief floods me—so sudden, so intense, I almost stagger. But then—
“But I did feed from her,” he says. “Years ago. Before the bond. Before you.”
The relief shatters.
“You fed from her?” I whisper. “You bit her?”
“It was a blood pact,” he says. “A political alliance. It meant nothing.”
“It meant something,” I hiss. “She’s wearing your shirt. She has your mark.”
“The shirt is a lie,” he says. “She stole it. The mark—” He steps forward, grabs her shoulder, and yanks the fabric aside. “—is fake. Painted. Illusion.”
And there it is.
No bite. No scar. Just smooth, unbroken skin.
Liar.
She’s a liar.
I release her, shove her back, and she stumbles, her eyes wide with fear. But I don’t care. I just stare at Kaelen. At the truth. At the betrayal.
“You let her wear it,” I say. “You let her lie.”
“I didn’t know,” he says. “Not until now.”
“And the blood pact?”
“It’s broken,” he says. “I ended it the moment the bond ignited.”
“But you didn’t tell me.”
“You didn’t ask.”
My breath hitches.
He’s right.
I didn’t.
But still—
“You could’ve told me,” I say. “You could’ve shown me.”
“And you could’ve trusted me,” he says, stepping closer. “Instead of storming in here, attacking her, nearly starting a war.”
“She provoked me.”
“And you reacted like a child,” he says. “Jealous. Possessive. Weak.”
My magic flares—wild, uncontrolled—and the air crackles. “Don’t call me weak.”
“You are,” he says. “When it comes to this. To us. To the bond.”
“I’m not weak,” I hiss. “I’m angry.”
“At her?”
“At you.”
He doesn’t flinch. Just stares at me, his golden eyes burning. “Then be angry. But don’t let it make you stupid.”
“You think I’m stupid?”
“I think you’re scared,” he says. “Scared that I could want someone else. Scared that the bond isn’t enough. Scared that you might actually care.”
My breath catches.
“I don’t care,” I whisper.
“Liar,” he murmurs. “Your scent changes when you lie. Sweet. Sharp. Like burnt sugar. And your pulse—” He reaches out, two fingers pressing to the side of my neck, just over my pulse point. “—it’s racing.”
I don’t pull away. Can’t. His touch is fire. His fingers are warm, calloused, and the bond flares beneath my skin, a jolt of heat shooting down my arm, pooling low in my belly.
“Take your hand off me,” I whisper.
He doesn’t. Just watches me, his golden eyes unreadable. “You think this is a game,” he says. “You think you can play me, use me, destroy me when the time comes. But you’re wrong, Cosmos. The bond doesn’t care about your revenge. It doesn’t care about your lies. It only knows the truth.”
“And what truth is that?”
“That you’re mine.”
My breath catches.
He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “And that you want to be.”
I shove him back. Hard.
He stumbles, just slightly, but doesn’t fall. Just smirks. Slow. Dangerous. Like he’s already won.
“You’re impossible,” I hiss.
“And you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
I glare at him. “I hate you.”
“No,” he says. “You don’t.”
“I do.”
“Then why does your body burn for me?” he asks. “Why does your magic flare when I touch you? Why does the bond scream your name every time I’m near?”
I don’t answer.
I just stare at him. My heart pounding. My body aching. My mind screaming.
And then—
He steps forward. Cages me against the wall. One hand on either side of my head. His body flush against mine. His heat searing through my clothes. His scent flooding my lungs.
“You think I’d let her touch me after you?” he growls, voice rough, dangerous. “You think I’d let anyone else have what’s mine?”
My breath hitches.
“Prove it,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer.
Just lowers his head.
And kisses me.
Not a claim.
Not a conquest.
But something deeper.
Something true.
His mouth crashes down on mine—hard, possessive, devouring. Not gentle. Not kind. But real. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming, tasting, owning. My hands fly to his chest, not to push him away, but to hold on. My body arches into him, helpless, hungry. My magic flares—wild, uncontrolled—and the sigil on my wrist pulses, hot and bright, as if the bond itself is celebrating.
Mine.
Yours.
No.
But the bond doesn’t care.
It only knows the truth.
And the truth is—
I want him.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of the magic.
But because of him.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. His chest heaves. His eyes are dark, pupils blown. His lip is bleeding where I bit him. And his voice—when he speaks—is ragged.
“You feel that?” he asks. “That’s not the bond. That’s you. That’s me. That’s us.”
I don’t answer.
I just stare at him. My heart pounding. My body aching. My mind screaming.
And then—
“You’re still wearing her shirt,” I whisper.
He looks down. Then back at me. “Then take it off me.”
My breath hitches.
But I don’t hesitate.
I reach up. Grab the collar. And rip.
Buttons fly. Fabric tears. The shirt falls open, revealing his chest—golden skin, hard muscle, scars that tell stories I don’t know. I shove it off his shoulders. Let it fall.
And then I press my palms to his chest.
Feel his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Mine.
He doesn’t move. Just watches me, his golden eyes burning.
“Now you,” he says.
I don’t answer.
Just reach for the ties of my gown.
And let it fall.
The room stills.
Lysara is gone—slipped out while we weren’t looking. The fire crackles. The bond hums. And we’re alone.
Just us.
Standing in the center of the room. Skin to skin. Breath to breath. Heart to heart.
And then—
He cups my face. Thumbs brushing my cheeks. Voice soft, rough, real.
“You’re not getting out of this,” he murmurs. “Not ever.”
I don’t answer.
I just rise on my toes.
And kiss him back.
The sigil pulses.
And I know—
This isn’t over.
It’s only just begun.
I came here to destroy him.
But the bond?
The bond wants me to keep him.
And for the first time—
I’m not sure I want to fight it.