I don’t sleep.
Not after the venom. Not after the claiming. Not after the way he thrust inside me, how his fangs sank into my shoulder, how the bond sang like it had finally come home. The fire has burned low again, casting flickering shadows across the stone floor, the same shadows that have watched me rage, weep, kiss him, and finally—choose him. My body still hums with the memory of him—his weight, his heat, the drag of his cock, the way my core clenched around him as I came. I press my fingers to the bite on my shoulder. It still burns. Still throbs. Still thinks. The crescent-shaped mark pulses faintly beneath my skin, a silent echo of the ritual, of the way he claimed me, of the way I let him. I told myself it was the venom. The magic. The bond’s compulsion. But the truth is—
I wanted it.
I wanted him.
And that terrifies me more than any enemy ever could.
The satchel of stolen files is still hidden beneath the floorboard near the hearth—untouched, unburned, left for me. Vaelen could have taken it. Could have silenced me. Could have locked me away without proof, without power, without purpose.
But he didn’t.
He left it.
As if he knew I’d stay.
As if he knew I’d fight.
As if he’s already won.
I press my hands to my face. Stop.
I came here to destroy him. To expose the lies. To dismantle the treaty.
But I didn’t.
I gave in.
I said I was his.
I let him mark me.
And now—
Now I don’t know how to take it back.
The venom still burns in my veins—low, slow, a dull fire spreading through my blood. Blood magic always takes its toll. But this? This is different. It’s not just exhaustion. Not just weakness. It’s memory. Fragments. Whispers. Images that aren’t mine.
Vaelen’s memories.
His pain.
His truth.
I rise from the bed, my bare feet cold against the stone. The robe slips off one shoulder, the mark on my spine pulsing with every step. I need more. Not just visions. Not just feelings. Not whispers from the dead.
I need proof.
And I know how to get it.
The blood ritual. The conjuration. The way I saw Elias’s last moments, clear as day, real as breath. If I could see that, if I could relive his final hours, then maybe—just maybe—I can see more.
Maybe I can see him.
Solene.
Not just her face. Not just her lies. But her truth.
I move fast. Pull out the satchel, flip through the files. The autopsy report. The surveillance logs. The transcripts. And then—
I find it.
A vial.
Small. Glass. Cracked at the rim. Inside—dark liquid, thick and old. Blood. Not mine. Not Vaelen’s. But familiar. I press it to my nose. The scent—iron and jasmine and something sharp, something hers.
Solene’s blood.
From the night she framed Vaelen. From the night she told me he killed Elias. From the night she sent me here to destroy him.
I clutch the vial to my chest, my pulse racing. I need to see more. I need to know what she did. Why she did it. What she hopes to gain from our destruction.
I clear a space on the floor, drawing a circle in salt and ash—protection, focus, containment. I place the vial in the center. Then I pull the silver dagger from my boot, press the tip to my palm. Blood wells, thick and dark. I let three drops fall onto the vial, whispering the words:
“Sanguis memoriæ, ostende mihi veritatem.”
Blood of memory, show me the truth.
The air shimmers. The candle flames flicker, then go out. The room grows cold. The bond screams, a surge of heat and pain tearing through my spine, but I hold still. I need this.
Then—
Darkness.
And then—
Light.
I’m standing in a room I’ve never seen—stone walls, silver veins, a fire burning low in the hearth. The scent of old parchment and iron fills the air. The Council archives. But not as they are now. Older. Dustier. Forgotten.
And there she is.
Solene.
Younger. Stronger. Her silver hair pulled back, her cloak lined with wolf fur, her eyes sharp with ambition. She’s pacing, one hand clutching a ledger, the other gripping a vial of crimson liquid—blood, thick and dark, swirling with magic.
And Elias is there too—standing in the corner, his face pale, his hands bound. He’s alive. Not dead. Not murdered. Alive.
My breath stops.
“You don’t have to do this,” Elias says, voice tight. “We can find another way.”
“There is no other way,” Solene says, voice smooth, cold. “The Council is fractured. The bond between fae and vampire is weakening. If it breaks now, war starts at dawn.”
“And if you poison it,” Elias says, “you’ll be the one who starts it.”
Solene smiles. Slow. Dangerous. “And if I don’t, the Duskbane will. They’ve already moved. They’ve already corrupted the records. They’ve already turned the Elders against us.”
“Then we expose them,” Elias says.
“And who will believe us?” Solene asks. “A half-fae witch and a vampire heir with no proof? No. The only way to stop them is to let the bond appear broken. To make them think it’s dead. To buy time.”
“And how?” Elias asks, voice wary.
Solene uncorks the vial. “With a sacrifice. A death. A lie.”
My breath hitches.
“You want me to die?” Elias asks, voice raw.
“No,” Solene says. “I want you to disappear.”
Silence.
“You’re lying,” Elias says.
“Am I?” Solene asks, holding up the vial. “This isn’t poison. It’s a sleeping draught. A mimic of death. You’ll take it. They’ll find you cold. Still. Dead. And in the chaos, we’ll have time. Time to gather proof. Time to expose the Duskbane. Time to save the bond.”
Elias stares at her. “And when I wake?”
“In ten years,” Solene says. “By then, the truth will be known. The bond will be safe. And I’ll be nothing but a memory.”
Elias studies her. Then, slowly, he nods. “It’s risky. But it might work.”
“It will work,” Solene says. “But only if you keep it a secret. Only if you let them believe you’re dead. Only if you grieve.”
Elias looks at the vial. Then, slowly, he takes it.
And drinks.
His body convulses. He falls to his knees. Solene catches him, lowers him gently to the floor. Her hand finds his, squeezes.
“Protect the bond,” Elias whispers.
“I will,” Solene says. “I swear it.”
Elias smiles. Then his eyes close.
And he’s gone.
The vision shatters.
I gasp, collapsing to my knees, the vial clutched in my fist, tears streaming down my face. My chest heaves. My body trembles. The bond screams, a tidal wave of pain and grief and knowing.
Solene didn’t kill Elias.
She sacrificed him.
To protect the bond.
To give us time.
And Vaelen—
He didn’t betray us.
He protected him.
He kept the secret.
He let me hate him to keep me alive.
And now—
Now she’s coming for us.
Not because she wants to destroy the bond.
But because she thinks she’s protecting it.
Twisted her loyalty. Poisoned her mind. Made her believe the bond was a lie. Made her believe Vaelen was the traitor.
And I—
I almost ruined everything.
“Cascade!”
Vaelen’s voice. The door bursts open. He’s there, kneeling beside me, hands on my shoulders, his eyes wide with fear. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. I just collapse into him, sobbing, the vial pressed between us, my fingers digging into his shirt.
He holds me. Tight. Unyielding. His arms like iron, his chest a solid wall against my tears. He doesn’t ask again. Doesn’t demand answers. Just lets me break.
And the bond—
It sings.
Not with hunger. Not with need.
With grief.
With truth.
With love.
Minutes pass. Hours. I don’t know. Finally, my breathing steadies. My tears slow. I pull back slightly, wiping my face with the back of my hand. His thumb brushes my cheek, wiping away a stray tear.
“You saw it,” he says, voice soft.
I nod. “She sacrificed him. To protect the bond. To give us time.”
“And she woke him,” Vaelen says, voice tight. “She twisted his mind. Made him believe I was the traitor. Made him believe the bond was a lie.”
“And now she’s coming for us,” I whisper. “Because she thinks she’s protecting it.”
“Then we’ll make her remember,” Vaelen says, his grip tightening. “We’ll remind her of the truth. Of the oath she swore. Of the woman she used to be.”
I look at him—really look. At the shadows under his eyes. At the scars on his chest. At the way his fingers tremble slightly as they brush my skin.
“Why would you do that?” I whisper. “Why would you risk confronting her? She raised you. Trained you.”
“Because she’s not the woman who raised me,” Vaelen says. “Not anymore. And if I don’t stop her, if I don’t make her see the truth, then Solene wins. And the bond—”
He pauses, his thumb tracing my jaw. “The bond is our only chance. Not just to survive. To live.”
“And if she won’t listen?” I ask. “If she attacks? If she tries to kill you?”
“Then I’ll fight,” Vaelen says. “But not to destroy her. To save her.”
I stare at him. “You could’ve told me. Anytime. You could’ve shown me this.”
“And if I had,” he says, “would you have believed me? Or would you have thought it was another lie? Another trick?”
I don’t answer.
Because he’s right.
I wouldn’t have believed him.
Not then.
Not until now.
“Solene used me,” I say, voice hollow. “She raised me. Trained me. Told me you killed Elias. Told me the bond was a lie. Sent me here to destroy you. To ignite the war.”
“And you almost did,” Vaelen says. “But you didn’t. Because the bond is stronger than her lies. Stronger than her magic. Stronger than fate.”
I look down at the vial. “She loved you.”
“She died for me,” Vaelen says. “And I—”
He stops.
I look up.
His eyes—crimson, ancient, aching—lock onto mine.
“I’ve loved you since we were children,” he says, voice raw. “Before the bond. Before the treaty. Before the war. I’ve loved you in every lifetime. And I’ll love you in every one after.”
My breath stops.
My heart hammers.
The bond screams—not with pain. Not with hunger.
With recognition.
With home.
I don’t think.
I don’t hesitate.
I rise onto my knees, cup his face in my hands, and kiss him.
Not fierce. Not angry.
Soft.
Slow.
Real.
His lips part beneath mine. His hands find my waist, pulling me closer. The bond erupts—white-hot, all-consuming, a tidal wave of magic and emotion that throws us both back onto the floor.
But this time—
I don’t fight it.
I let it in.
I let him in.
And when we break apart, breathless, trembling, his forehead resting against mine, I whisper the words I never thought I’d say:
“I believe you.”
He closes his eyes, as if the words are a physical pain.
Then he opens them.
And for the first time—
I see it.
Not just hunger.
Not just possession.
Hope.
“Then stay with me,” he says. “Not because of the Council. Not because of the bond. But because you want to.”
I look at him—really look.
At the man who kept his promise.
At the man who let me hate him to keep me alive.
At the man who’s loved me for centuries.
And I know—
This isn’t vengeance.
This isn’t duty.
This is truth.
“I want to,” I whisper.
And the bond—
It sings.
Marked by Moonlight
The first time Cascade sees him, he’s standing in shadow, one hand around a servant’s throat—blood glistening on his fangs, crimson eyes glowing like embers in the dark. She doesn’t flinch. She’s seen worse. She’s *done* worse. But then he turns, and the air between them *snaps*, a jolt of primal recognition tearing through her bones. Her pulse races. Her skin burns. And deep in her core, the dormant mark on her spine—a relic of a bond severed before birth—*awakens*, searing with heat.
They were promised as mates at birth, a political union meant to unite fae and vampire. But the alliance collapsed when her mother was executed for treason—on Vaelen’s father’s orders. Now, ten years later, Cascade returns under the guise of a peace envoy, armed with forged documents and a heart full of vengeance. She will prove Vaelen killed her brother. She will dismantle the treaty. And she will walk away.
But the Supernatural Council has other plans.
A failed assassination attempt on the Council Elder forces an emergency decree: Cascade and Vaelen must publicly rekindle their engagement to prevent war. One week. One ritual. One shared bed. If they fail, their factions go to war—and thousands will die.
Trapped in forced proximity, every touch is torture. Every glance, a spark. When Vaelen finds her sneaking into his archives, he doesn’t punish her—he *pins her to the wall*, his fangs grazing her neck as he growls, “You want to destroy me, little witch? Then do it with your hands on my skin.”
But as secrets unravel, so does the truth: her brother’s death wasn’t his doing. And the real enemy is still watching… waiting for them to fall into each other’s arms—so they can be destroyed together.