The door slams shut behind me with a finality that echoes in my bones.
Not a prison cell. Not a dungeon. Not even a guest room.
His chambers.
Again.
The same black stone, the silver-veined walls, the hearth where the fire once burned low and warm. The massive bed—rumpled from last night, from us, from the claiming, from the way he thrust inside me until I screamed his name—still untouched since we left for the Blood Moon Gala. The scent of him lingers in the air—midnight and iron and something ancient, something mine—and it wraps around me like a noose.
I don’t move.
I stand in the center of the room, my hands clenched into fists, my breath shallow. The guards’ footsteps fade down the hall. The lock clicks. I’m alone. Or as alone as I can be with two of Vaelen’s men stationed outside, their presence a silent warning.
He locked me in.
Not the dungeon. Not the east wing. Not even a neutral chamber.
His.
As if I belong here.
As if I’ve ever belonged anywhere.
I turn, pacing. Back and forth. The robe slips off one shoulder, the bite on my other still tender, still marked. I press my fingers to it—heat flares, a dull throb, a reminder. A claim. A betrayal. A truth I can’t outrun.
He said to kill me if I tried to run.
But he didn’t mean it.
He couldn’t mean it.
Not after last night. Not after the way he looked at me when he came, when he whispered my name like a prayer, when he bit me—not to hurt, not to punish, but to claim. To make me his.
And I let him.
I said I was his.
I came for him.
I wanted it.
And now—
Now I’m trapped. Again. Still. Always.
But not by the guards.
Not by the lock.
By the bond.
By the way my body still aches for him. The way my core tightens when I remember the weight of him on top of me, the drag of his cock inside me, the way his fangs grazed my neck like a promise. The way the bond sang, not with magic, not with politics, but with something deeper. Something real.
I press my hands to my face. Stop.
I came here to destroy him. Not to crave him. Not to choose him.
But I did.
And he—
He let Lyria wear his shirt.
Let her flaunt his bite.
Let her win.
“For your protection,” he said.
“To keep the Council off balance.”
“To keep you alive.”
And maybe it’s true.
Maybe he’s lying to everyone but me.
Or maybe he’s lying to me too.
I don’t know.
And that’s the worst part.
The bond flares, a surge of heat spiraling down to my core. I gasp, pressing a hand to my thigh. My body still hums from him. Still wants him. Even now. Even after her. Even after the arrest. Even after the way he stepped aside and let them take me.
He didn’t fight for me.
He didn’t argue.
He just said, “Take her.”
And then—
“Lock her in my chambers.”
Not “her chambers.” Not “the east wing.”
His.
As if this is where I belong.
As if he’s already won.
I pace faster, my bare feet cold against the stone. The satchel of stolen files is gone—taken by the guards, no doubt. Proof of Solene’s betrayal. Elias’s autopsy. The redacted vampire. All of it. And now I have nothing. No leverage. No escape. No mission.
Just him.
And the bond.
And the mark on my shoulder that still burns.
A knock at the door.
I freeze.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
Then—
The lock turns.
The door opens.
Vaelen steps inside.
He’s not wearing his court robes. Just black trousers, a dark shirt left open at the collar, revealing the sharp lines of his collarbones, the faint trail of dark hair leading down his chest. His hair is slightly tousled, as if he’s been running his hands through it. His eyes—crimson, ancient, hungry—lock onto mine.
And the bond—
It screams.
Heat floods my body. My skin burns. My core clenches, slick with sudden, unwanted arousal. The mark on my spine flares, a white-hot brand. I stumble back, hit the wall, press my palms to the cold stone.
He closes the door behind him. The lock clicks. We’re alone.
“You let them arrest me,” I say, voice sharp. “You stood there. You said, ‘Take her.’”
He doesn’t flinch. Just watches me. “You were caught with stolen files. Near the east gate. Intent to flee is clear.”
“I wasn’t fleeing,” I snap. “I was going to find the redacted vampire. To expose Solene. To end this war before it starts.”
“And if you’d been caught outside the castle?” he asks. “If the Council had declared war at dawn? If you’d died in the attempt?”
“Then I’d have died for the truth,” I say. “Not locked in your chambers like a pet.”
He steps forward. Slow. Deliberate. “You’re not a pet. You’re my mate. And I won’t let you throw your life away on a suicide mission.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me,” I say, pushing off the wall. “You don’t get to lock me up and play the hero.”
“I’m not playing,” he says, closing the distance. “I’m protecting you.”
“By imprisoning me?”
“By keeping you alive,” he growls. “The Council is watching. They’re waiting for an excuse to break the bond. To start the war. If you’d left, if you’d been captured by enemy forces, if you’d been killed—”
“Then the truth dies with me,” I finish. “And Solene wins.”
He stops. Looks at me. Really looks. “And if you’d succeeded? If you’d found the redacted vampire? If you’d exposed Solene? What then? Would you have come back to me? Or would you have vanished, leaving me to face the war alone?”
I don’t answer.
Because I don’t know.
And he sees it.
“You were going to leave,” he says, voice low. “Even if you’d found the truth, you were going to walk away. To bury me with it.”
“I came here to destroy you,” I whisper. “To expose you. To dismantle the treaty.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t know what to believe.”
He reaches for me. I step back.
“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t touch me.”
“Why?” he asks, stepping closer. “Because you’re afraid of what you’ll feel? Because you’re afraid you’ll like it?”
“I hate this,” I say, tears burning my eyes. “I hate that my body betrays me. That I want you. That the bond makes me weak.”
“You’re not weak,” he says, closing the distance. “You’re alive. For the first time in ten years, you’re feeling something real.”
“I don’t want real,” I whisper. “I want control.”
“Then take it,” he says, stepping into my space. “Take me.”
His hands frame my face. His thumbs brush my cheeks. His eyes burn into mine. “You want proof I didn’t kill your brother? Then stay. Watch me not be the monster you think I am.”
My breath hitches.
“Or are you too afraid?” he taunts.
I glare at him. “You don’t get to manipulate me.”
“I’m not,” he says. “I’m giving you a choice. For the first time, I’m giving you power.”
And then—
He leans in.
His lips hover over mine. “Stay with me,” he whispers. “Not because of the bond. Not because of the Council. But because you want to.”
My heart hammers.
My body burns.
The bond screams.
And for the first time—
I don’t fight it.
I rise onto my toes.
And I kiss him.
Not soft. Not gentle. Fierce. A collision of lips and teeth and need. He groans, hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer. The bond erupts—white-hot, all-consuming, a tidal wave of magic and desire that throws us both into the wall.
His body presses against mine. Hard. Unyielding. Mine.
His fangs graze my lip. I bite back, drawing blood. He growls, tongue sweeping into my mouth, tasting me, claiming me.
And then—
He breaks the kiss.
Pulls back.
Steps away.
I gasp, my lips swollen, my breath ragged. “What—”
“You want the truth?” he says, voice rough. “Then stay. Watch me. Fight with me. Let me prove I’m not the monster you think I am.”
I glare at him. “And if you are?”
“Then kill me,” he says. “But do it with your eyes open. Not blinded by vengeance. Not driven by lies. By truth.”
I stare at him. “You’re impossible.”
He smirks. Slow. Dangerous. “And you’re the only woman who’s ever made me feel alive.”
He turns. Walks to the door. Pauses.
“Oh,” he says, glancing back. “And Cascade? Next time you try to run—make sure you’re faster.”
Then he’s gone.
I slide down the wall, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My skin still burns. My body still aches. The mark on my spine pulses like a second heartbeat.
I look around the room.
The bed. The hearth. The satchel hidden beneath the floorboard near the fire—still there. The files. The proof. The truth.
And I realize—
He didn’t take them.
He didn’t burn them.
He left them for me.
As if he knew I’d come back.
As if he knew I’d stay.
I crawl to the hearth, pull up the floorboard, take out the satchel. Flip through the files again.
Solene’s signature. Elias’s body. The redacted vampire.
Who is he?
Who’s helping her?
And how deep does this go?
I don’t know.
But I do know this—
The bond is real.
Vaelen didn’t kill my brother.
And the real enemy is still out there.
And this time—
I’m not fighting alone.
I close the satchel. Slide it back beneath the floorboard.
Then I stand.
Walk to the bed.
And lie down.
Not on the edge.
Not in the corner.
In the center.
Where he sleeps.
Where he watches me.
Where he lets me hate him to keep me alive.
I close my eyes.
And for the first time in ten years—
I let myself rest.
Not because I’m weak.
Not because I’m trapped.
But because I choose to.
Because I want to.
Because—
Despite everything—
Despite the lies, the betrayal, the blood—
I believe him.
And the bond—
It sings.