I don’t sleep.
Not when she’s in danger. Not when the air in the castle tastes like blood and lies, thick with the stench of vampire magic and fae deceit. I stand at the edge of the Midnight Court’s outer wall, the wind biting through my leather jacket, the scent of Cascade—moon-bloom and iron and something wild—faint but unmistakable, drifting on the breeze. She’s close. Too close to *him*. To the Duskbane. To the bond that’s burning hotter with every passing hour.
And I can’t reach her.
Not without starting a war.
The Council’s decree still holds: no uninvited shifters in the vampire sanctum. One step over the boundary, and the wards ignite. One growl, one shift, and it’s an act of aggression. And with the Blood Moon still fresh in the sky, with the bond between Cascade and Vaelen now *marked*, the entire supernatural world is holding its breath.
But I don’t care.
I’ve never cared about politics. Never bowed to treaties. Never believed in fate.
But I believe in *her*.
And right now, she’s walking into a trap.
I press my palm to the stone wall, feeling the hum of ancient magic beneath my skin. The Midnight Court is a fortress—black stone, silver veins, towers that pierce the sky like fangs. It’s beautiful. It’s deadly. And it’s *his*.
Vaelen Duskbane.
Prince. Liar. Mate.
I’ve seen the way he looks at her. Not with hunger. Not with possession.
With *recognition*.
And that terrifies me more than any enemy ever could.
Because Cascade doesn’t see it. Not yet. She still thinks this is about revenge. About truth. About dismantling the treaty.
But it’s not.
It’s about *him*.
And if she doesn’t wake up soon, she’s going to lose herself in him.
A rustle in the trees.
I turn, muscles tensing, fangs already pressing against my gums. But it’s not a threat.
It’s Dain.
Vaelen’s second. Stoic. Watchful. The only vampire I’ve ever trusted—because he flinches when she’s in danger. I’ve seen it. Felt it. Smelled it.
He steps into the moonlight, his cloak blending with the shadows. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
“Neither are you,” I say, voice low.
He doesn’t answer. Just holds out a sealed scroll—black wax, the Duskbane crest. “She’s in the east wing. The bathing chamber. You have ten minutes. No more.”
I take it, my fingers brushing the cold wax. “Why?”
“Because I’ve seen the way you look at her,” he says. “And because I know what’s coming.”
“And what’s that?”
“War,” he says. “Solene’s moving. Lyria’s in play. And Valenir—Vaelen’s uncle—he’s not just a traitor. He’s a weapon. And he’s coming for her.”
My blood runs cold.
“Then why let me see her?” I ask. “Why risk it?”
“Because she needs to know,” Dain says. “And because Vaelen can’t tell her. Not without breaking the Council’s rules. But you—”
He pauses, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “You’re not bound by their laws. You’re not blinded by the bond. You’re the only one who can make her see the truth.”
I stare at him. “And if I try to take her?”
“Then I’ll stop you,” he says, voice calm. “But if you don’t, if you leave her here to be destroyed by lies and blood magic, then you’re no better than the rest of them.”
I don’t answer.
Just turn and walk toward the east gate.
The wards flare as I approach—blue light, searing heat—but Dain raises a hand, and they part, just enough for me to slip through. I don’t look back.
I move fast.
The castle is silent—too silent. No servants. No guards. Just the flicker of blue flames in the sconces, casting long shadows that twist like grasping hands. The air is thick with magic, with tension, with *hunger*. And beneath it all—the bond. A live wire, pulsing through the stone, through the air, through *me*.
I find her in the bathing chamber.
The door is locked, but I don’t knock. I don’t call out.
I just step inside.
She’s there—kneeling by the pool, her back to me, her skin glistening with water and steam. She’s not wearing the robe. Just her body, every curve on display, every scar a story I know by heart. The one on her wrist—from the first time she cast a blood spell. The one on her shoulder—from the night Solene betrayed her. The mark on her spine—*awake*, pulsing faintly, a relic of a bond that should’ve died before it began.
And then—
She turns.
Her eyes widen. “Kaelen?”
I don’t speak. Just step forward, closing the distance. I can smell it—his scent on her. Not just on her skin. On her *breath*. In her *blood*. The bond is deep. Deeper than I thought. It’s in her veins. In her lungs. In her *soul*.
“You’re marked,” I say, voice rough. “He bit you.”
She touches the bite on her shoulder—still tender, still warm. “It was the ritual. The Blood Moon. The magic forced us.”
“Liar,” I say.
She flinches.
“You wanted it,” I say, stepping closer. “You *let* him. You moaned. You clawed his back. You screamed his name.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snaps, rising to her feet, water running down her body, pooling at her feet.
“I was outside,” I say. “I heard you. The whole castle heard you. The bond—”
“The bond is a lie,” she says, voice breaking. “It’s magic. Manipulation. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means *everything*,” I growl. “And you know it. You feel it. You *want* it.”
She glares at me. “I came here to destroy him. To expose the truth. To dismantle the treaty.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t know what to believe.”
“Then let me tell you what’s real,” I say, stepping closer. “Solene’s alive. She’s not just framing Vaelen. She’s using you. Using the bond. Using your *desire* to break it. To start the war.”
Her breath hitches.
“And Lyria?” I continue. “She’s not just a rival. She’s a pawn. A distraction. But the real enemy—”
“Valenir,” she whispers.
I nod. “He’s not just a Council Elder. He’s Vaelen’s uncle. And he’s coming for you. Not because he wants to destroy the bond. But because he thinks he’s *protecting* it.”
She stares at me. “How do you know this?”
“Because I’ve been watching,” I say. “Because I’ve been tracking blood signatures, financial trails, secret meetings. Because I’ve never stopped protecting you. Not since we were children. Not even when you left. Not even when you chose *him*.”
She looks away. “I didn’t choose him.”
“You did,” I say. “Not with your words. Not with your mission. But with your body. With your breath. With your *blood*.”
She turns back to me, her eyes blazing. “You don’t get to judge me. You don’t get to stand here and pretend you know what I’m feeling.”
“I don’t,” I say, voice low. “But I know what he is. I know what this bond does. I know how it twists the mind, how it burns the soul. And I know—”
I stop.
Because I can smell it.
Not just his scent on her.
But *hers* on him.
The way her magic clings to his skin. The way her breath lingers in his lungs. The way her blood sings in his veins.
And I—
I’ve never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at him.
Even when she’s trying to kill him.
“I know,” I say, stepping back, “that you’re in love with him.”
She doesn’t deny it.
Can’t.
Her breath hitches. Her hands tremble. Her eyes fill with tears.
And the bond—
It *screams*.
Heat floods the room. The water in the pool ripples. The torches flicker.
“I don’t want to,” she whispers. “I don’t *want* to love him.”
“But you do,” I say. “And that’s the problem.”
She looks at me—really looks. At the man who’s loved her since we were children. At the man who’s followed her through every shadow, every lie, every blood-soaked night. At the man who’s standing here, offering her a way out.
And I see it.
Not just the fear.
Not just the doubt.
Regret.
“Come with me,” I say, holding out my hand. “Leave this place. Leave the bond. Leave *him*. I’ll keep you safe. I’ve always kept you safe.”
She stares at my hand. Then slowly, she reaches for it.
Our fingers brush.
And the bond—
It *screams*.
Not a whisper. Not a pulse.
A *roar*.
The door bursts open.
Vaelen stands there—shirtless, fangs bared, eyes glowing like embers. His chest heaves. His hands clench into fists. And the air—
It *burns*.
“You have ten seconds,” he says, voice low, dangerous, “to remove your hand from her.”
I don’t move.
“Nine.”
“Kaelen,” Cascade whispers. “Let go.”
“Eight.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I say, not looking at him. “You don’t have to fight for her. Not like this.”
“Seven.”
“Kaelen,” she says again, louder. “Let go.”
“Six.”
I look at her. At the woman I’ve loved my entire life. At the woman who’s chosen another. At the woman whose body still hums with his touch, whose breath still tastes of his blood.
And I let go.
“Five,” Vaelen says, stepping inside. “Four.”
“I’m not here to take her,” I say, backing away. “I’m here to warn her.”
“Three.”
“Solene’s alive,” I say. “Valenir’s coming. And if she stays, if she lets this bond consume her—”
“Two.”
“—she’ll die.”
“One.”
He lunges.
Not at me.
At the door.
He slams it shut, the wards flaring, sealing us in. Then he turns, his eyes locking onto mine. “You’re right. She’ll die. But not because of the bond. Because of *you*.”
“What?”
“You think you’re protecting her?” he says, stepping closer. “You think you’re the hero in this story? You’re not. You’re the distraction. The *weakness*. And if you don’t leave now, if you don’t disappear back into your forest and stay out of her life—”
He stops, his voice dropping to a whisper. “—I’ll make sure you do.”
I don’t flinch. “And if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll watch her die,” he says. “And you’ll know it was your fault. Because you couldn’t let her go.”
I look at Cascade.
She doesn’t meet my eyes.
She’s looking at *him*.
At the man who marked her. Who claimed her. Who’s loved her for centuries.
And I know—
I’ve already lost.
“I’ll go,” I say. “But not because of you. Because of *her*.”
I turn to the door. The wards part. I step through.
But before I leave—
I stop.
“Cascade,” I say, not looking back. “I’ve never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at him… even when she’s trying to kill him.”
Then I’m gone.
The wind bites through my jacket as I walk back through the trees. The castle fades behind me, a shadow against the moon.
And I know—
This isn’t over.
Not for her.
Not for him.
Not for me.
But I also know—
She’s not mine to save.
She never was.
And the bond—
It *sings*.