The door seals with a finality that vibrates through my bones. No hinges. No lock. Just the flare of ancient wards—crimson and silver—rippling across the stone like blood in water. The sound cuts off the distant murmur of the court, the clank of armor, the whispers that already branded me: *Moonblood. Liar. Fated.*
Now it’s just us.
Me. And the man who holds my freedom in his hands.
Kaelen doesn’t move at first. He stands in the center of the chamber, broad shoulders tense, chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths. The scent of him—pine and iron, frost and something darker, like burnt sugar and old violence—fills the room. It’s everywhere. In my nose. On my tongue. In the hollow of my throat where my pulse hammers like a caged bird.
I hate that I notice.
I hate that my body remembers the fire of the bond, the way it arched me toward him like a bowstring. The way his thumb brushed my wrist and sent a jolt straight to my core.
I press my back harder into the door, as if I could sink through the stone and disappear. My fingers curl against the cold surface. The runes on my spine still throb, a dull, insistent burn beneath the fabric of my dress. I can feel them. Alive. Awake. *Exposed.*
“You’re trembling,” he says, voice low, rough. Not mocking. Observant.
“I’m not trembling,” I snap. “I’m disgusted.”
He turns. Slow. Deliberate. His storm-silver eyes lock onto mine. There’s no trace of the feral gold from the dais, but the predator is still there—coiled beneath the surface, waiting.
“Liar,” he says. “You’re not disgusted. You’re afraid.”
“Of you? Please.” I force a laugh, sharp and brittle. “You’re just another enforcer in a long line of them. Another puppet of the Council that murdered my mother.”
“And yet,” he steps forward, “you didn’t run when you saw me. You didn’t fight. You walked right up to the dais like you owned it. Like you *wanted* this.”
“I wanted to sign a contract. Not be dragged into some archaic mating ritual.”
“The bond doesn’t care what you *want*.” He’s closer now. Too close. I can see the faint scar cutting through his eyebrow, the way his jaw tightens when he speaks. “It only cares about truth. And the truth is, Brielle Moonblood, you came here to burn the Council down. You just didn’t count on the fire burning *you* first.”
My breath hitches. He said my name. Not Lyra. Not witch. *Brielle.*
“You don’t know me,” I whisper.
“I know you hate them. I know you’re here for the Blood Codex.” He tilts his head, studying me. “And I know you think I’m the enemy.”
“Aren’t you?”
“I’m the only thing standing between you and a firing squad.”
“Or exile.”
“Same difference.” He takes another step. The space between us shrinks to nothing. I can feel the heat radiating off him, a low, pulsing warmth that makes my skin prickle. “You think the Crimson Conclave won’t hunt you the second you step outside Shadowveil? That the Fang won’t tear you apart for being a half-breed abomination? You think the Moonspire will welcome back a traitor’s daughter with open arms?”
“They’ll have to.” My voice is steel. “Because I’m going to prove my mother was innocent. And when I do, every one of you will kneel.”
He laughs. A short, harsh sound. “You’re delusional. The Codex doesn’t clear names. It *confirms* them. Your mother was executed for a reason.”
“She was framed.”
“By who?”
“By *your* father.” The words tear out of me, raw and ragged. “Lord Malrik Duskbane. He signed the order. He stole her magic. And he’s still sitting on the Blood Tribunal like he’s some kind of saint.”
Kaelen goes very still.
For the first time since I’ve known him—since the bond flared—he looks uncertain. Not angry. Not predatory. Just… still.
“You don’t know that,” he says quietly.
“I *know* it.” My voice shakes. “I was there. I saw her burn. And I saw *him* watching. Smiling.”
He stares at me. And for a heartbeat, I think—*maybe*. Maybe he’ll believe me. Maybe he’ll see the truth.
Then his expression hardens.
“You’re a liability,” he says. “A loose end. And if you keep talking like that, you won’t live long enough to find the Codex.”
Rage ignites in my chest, white-hot and blinding. I push off the door, stepping into his space, my finger jabbing into his chest.
“You don’t get to silence me. You don’t get to *control* me. I didn’t survive twelve years in the underground to be caged by some half-blood enforcer who thinks he’s untouchable.”
He catches my wrist before I can pull back. His grip is iron. Unyielding.
“Careful,” he warns, voice low. “You keep pushing, and I won’t be responsible for what happens.”
“Oh, I’m *so* scared.” I yank my arm, but he doesn’t let go. “What are you going to do? Arrest me? Exile me? Go ahead. See how far you get when the entire Arcanum finds out their precious envoy was *murdered* by the Alpha of the Fang.”
His other hand snaps out, slamming against the door beside my head. The impact shudders through the stone. He leans in, his body caging mine, his thigh pressing between my legs.
My breath catches.
Not from fear.
From the heat. The *pull*. The way my body arches toward him, traitorous and eager, even as my mind screams *no*.
“You think I care about the Arcanum?” he growls, his voice a rumble against my ear. “You think I give a f*ck about politics or reputation? I am the law here, witch. And right now, you’re in *my* fortress. In *my* chambers. And you’re *my* problem.”
His hand slides from my wrist to my throat. Not choking. Not crushing. Just… holding. His thumb brushes the pulse point beneath my jaw. Slow. Deliberate.
And my pulse *spikes*.
“You feel that?” he murmurs. “That’s not fear. That’s the bond. It’s screaming for me. For *us*. And you’re fighting it.”
“I’m not fighting it,” I lie. “I’m *ignoring* it.”
“Liar.” His other hand drops to my hip, gripping hard enough to bruise. “You’re wet. I can *smell* it.”
Shame floods me, hot and sudden. I try to twist away, but he holds me tighter, his thigh pressing higher, grinding against the ache between my legs.
“Stop it.” My voice is a whisper.
“Make me.”
His mouth is so close to mine. I can feel his breath, warm and sweet with the faintest hint of blood. His eyes flicker gold. The predator is back. The Alpha. The mate.
And I want to bite him.
I want to kiss him.
I want to *burn* him.
“You think this changes anything?” I hiss. “You think because some stupid bond flared, I’ll just *submit*? That I’ll forget what your family did to mine?”
“I think,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper, “that you’re tired of pretending you don’t want me.”
“I don’t want you.”
“Liar.”
“I *hate* you.”
“Liar.”
“I—”
His mouth crashes down on mine.
It’s not a kiss. It’s a *claim*. Hard. Brutal. Teeth and tongue and fire. I gasp, and he takes the opening, his tongue sliding deep, tasting me like he’s starving. My hands fly to his chest—pushing, clawing, *pulling*—I don’t even know what I’m doing. My body is a live wire, every nerve alight, every muscle taut with need.
He groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, and his hand tightens in my hair, tilting my head back so he can take more. Deeper. Harder. The bond roars between us, a living thing, feeding on the contact, the heat, the *hunger*.
And then—
He stops.
Just like that. Pulls back. Leaves me gasping, lips swollen, body trembling.
“You felt that,” he says, voice rough. “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My chest heaves. My thighs clench. The ache between my legs is unbearable.
He watches me, his silver eyes dark with something I can’t name. Not just lust. Not just power. Something deeper. Something dangerous.
“You came here to destroy me,” he says. “But you’re going to destroy yourself first.”
“Then let me.” I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. “Because I’d rather die than be your mate.”
He smiles. Slow. Cold. The predator again.
“You already are.”
He steps back. Leaves me leaning against the door, weak and shaking.
The room is silent. The wards hum faintly. The fire in the hearth flickers, casting long shadows across the stone.
And then he turns, walking toward the inner chamber. Toward the bed.
“You’re not leaving this room,” he says, not looking back, “until you stop pretending you didn’t feel that.”
I press my fingers to my lips. They’re still warm. Still tingling.
And for the first time in my life, I’m not sure whether I want to kill him… or beg him to do it again.
But one thing is certain.
I’m not going to make this easy for him.
Not now.
Not ever.
I push off the door, my legs unsteady but determined. The chamber is vast—high ceilings, black stone walls lined with ancient weapons, a hearth large enough to roast a boar. To the left, a sitting area with low couches and a table scattered with maps and scrolls. To the right, a balcony overlooking the jagged peaks of the Carpathians, the sky already bleeding into twilight.
And straight ahead—the bed.
Massive. Canopied. Draped in dark fur and black silk. His.
And mine, now, whether I like it or not.
He’s standing at the foot of it, unlacing his leather gloves. He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t speak.
But I know what he’s thinking.
He thinks he’s won.
He thinks the bond has broken me.
He thinks I’ll kneel.
But he doesn’t know me.
He doesn’t know what I’ve survived.
What I’ve done.
What I’ll do to get what I want.
I walk past him, heading for the balcony. The night air is sharp, biting with frost. I breathe it in, letting it clear the haze of the kiss, the heat of his touch.
Below, the fortress sprawls—towers of black stone, glowing runes, patrols of werewolves moving like shadows through the courtyards. Beyond, the forest. The mountains. Freedom.
And between me and it—him.
“You won’t escape,” he says behind me. “The wards will trigger if you try.”
“I’m not trying to escape.” I don’t turn. “I’m thinking.”
“About how to kill me?”
“Among other things.”
He steps up beside me, close enough that our arms brush. I don’t pull away. Let him feel the heat. Let him *know*.
“You could just tell me the truth,” he says. “About why you’re really here. About the Codex. About your mother.”
“And you could just admit your father’s a monster.”
Silence.
Then, quietly: “I don’t know what he did.”
I turn to him. “You don’t *know*? Or you don’t *want* to know?”
His jaw clenches. “I serve the Council. I uphold the law. That’s all that matters.”
“Even if the law is built on lies?”
“Even then.”
I shake my head. “You’re just like him.”
“No.” His voice is low, dangerous. “I’m nothing like him.”
“Prove it.”
He looks at me. Really looks. And for the first time, I see it—doubt. Guilt. The weight of a legacy he didn’t choose.
And then it’s gone.
“Go to bed, Brielle,” he says, turning away. “We have a wedding to attend at moonrise.”
I don’t move.
“I’ll never call you husband.”
He pauses at the door to the inner chamber. “You don’t have to. Just play the part. For now.”
“And when the 70 days are up?”
He glances back. Silver eyes glinting in the firelight.
“We’ll see.”
The door closes behind him.
I’m alone.
But not free.
Not yet.
I press my palm to the balcony railing, the cold stone grounding me. The runes on my spine still burn. The bond still hums beneath my skin.
And somewhere, deep in the vaults beneath the Fang Citadel, the Blood Codex waits.
With the truth.
And my mother’s name.
I will have it.
No matter what it takes.
Even if I have to break him first.