The mark on my collarbone burned.
Not with the sharp sting of magic or the fevered ache of the bond’s punishment—no, this was different. Deeper. Like a slow ember buried beneath my skin, pulsing in time with my heartbeat, waking something ancient, something long buried. I’d felt it since the ritual, since the fall, since Kael’s lips had crashed against mine and I’d bitten him, drawn his blood, tasted the truth of us on my tongue. But now, in the quiet of the morning, with the first light of dawn creeping through the balcony doors, it wasn’t just a sensation.
It was a call.
I sat up, the silver-threaded sheets slipping from my shoulders, my breath unsteady. Kael was gone—again. Not a note, not a word, just the lingering warmth of his side of the bed, the faint imprint of his body in the mattress, the scent of dark wine and winter pine clinging to the air. I didn’t need to ask where he’d gone. I could feel it in the bond—the tension, the urgency, the way it hummed like a live wire stretched too thin. Vexis had sent a message. The Council had summoned him. And I—
I was left behind.
Again.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet pressing into the cold stone. The dagger at my thigh was still there, hidden beneath the folds of my gown. The Blood Oath ledger lay on the vanity, untouched, unopened. The vial of balm sat beside it, its contents still. Everything was in its place. Everything was controlled.
And I was done with control.
I stood, pacing the room, my boots clicking against the stone. The mark pulsed, faint but insistent, and I pressed my palm to it, trying to quiet the fire beneath my skin. But it didn’t stop. It only grew stronger, spreading through my veins like ink in water, dark and inevitable. My vision blurred at the edges, the room tilting slightly, the air thickening with magic. I stumbled, catching myself on the edge of the vanity, my fingers gripping the bone-white stone.
And then—
I saw it.
Not with my eyes. Not with my mind.
With something older.
The air around me shimmered, not with heat, but with soul-light. Threads of color—silver, crimson, gold—wove through the space, pulsing with life, humming with power. I could see them. Not just see them—feel them. Taste them. Know them.
The bond.
It wasn’t just a mark. It wasn’t just magic.
It was a connection.
I followed the thread—silver, bright, alive—and it led me to the door. To the corridor. To the war room. To him.
Kael.
His soul-thread was darker than mine—deep indigo shot through with silver, like midnight under moonlight. It pulsed with power, with restraint, with something deeper, something aching. I could feel it—the way his breath caught when I was near, the way his fangs dropped when I touched him, the way his body remembered mine even when his mind fought it. I could feel the way he loved me. Not just wanted. Not just craved.
Loved.
And it gutted me.
I wrenched my gaze away, gasping, my chest heaving. The vision faded, the threads dissolving like smoke, the room snapping back into focus. I pressed my hands to my face, my breath coming in ragged bursts. My heart pounded, my skin still tingling with the echo of what I’d seen. The mark on my collarbone burned, not with pain, but with truth.
I’d always known I was different. Half-witch, half-fae, born of a forbidden union, raised in the shadows of the Grey Coven. I’d learned to fight. To survive. To hate. But this—this was something else. Something I hadn’t inherited. Something I hadn’t earned.
Something that had been awakened.
I reached for the dagger, my fingers brushing the hilt. The bond flared—hot, immediate—and I knew. I didn’t need to hide. Didn’t need to fight. Didn’t need to pretend.
I needed to see.
I left the chambers, my boots silent on the stone, the bond humming between us like a second heartbeat. The Court was quiet—too quiet. The servants moved with their heads down, the vampires watched with their golden or silver eyes, the werewolves tensed at the scent of tension in the air. They knew. They could feel it—the shift, the crack in the armor, the unraveling of control.
I was not the same woman who had walked into Shadowveil Court with a dagger and a death wish.
I was something else now.
Something stronger.
The war room loomed ahead, its massive doors carved with sigils of power, the silver runes glowing faintly in the dim light. I didn’t knock. Didn’t announce myself. Just pushed the doors open and stepped inside.
Kael stood by the obsidian table, his back to me, his coat flaring behind him, the silver runes on the fabric catching the flickering light of the silver flames. Silas was there too, his golden wolf eyes sharp, his stance relaxed but ready. The air was thick with tension, with magic, with something darker, something familiar.
And then—
I saw it.
Not the room. Not the men.
Their souls.
Silas’s thread was gold—bright, steady, laced with loyalty and something deeper, something protective. He saw me. Not just my body. Not just my face.
He saw me.
And he was afraid for me.
But it was Kael who stopped my breath.
His soul-thread wasn’t just indigo. It was fractured. Cracks of crimson ran through it—old wounds, old betrayals, the ghost of a witch who had loved him and left him broken. And at the center—
A thread of silver.
Interwoven with mine.
The bond.
It wasn’t just magic. It wasn’t just fate.
It was real.
And it was his.
He turned then, his eyes silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly. He didn’t look surprised. Just… resigned. As if he’d known I’d come. As if he’d been waiting.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low, rough.
“I’m not your prisoner,” I said, stepping forward. “And I’m not your weapon.”
“Then what are you?”
I didn’t answer. Just looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the truth. The way his chest rose and fell too fast. The way his fingers twitched toward mine. The way his soul-thread trembled, just slightly, when I stepped closer.
“I’m your equal,” I said.
He flinched.
Not from anger.
From truth.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said.
“I do,” I said. “I can see it. The bond. Your soul. The way you love me.”
His breath caught.
Silas stilled. “What did you just say?”
I turned to him, my silver-lavender eyes locking onto his. “I can see soul-bonds. Threads of light. I can feel them. Taste them. Know them.”
“Moon-sight,” Silas whispered. “The Winter Court’s lost gift. They said it died with the last exiled heir.”
“I am that heir,” I said, turning back to Kael. “And I’m not blind anymore.”
Kael didn’t move. Just stood there, rigid, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning. “And what do you see?”
“I see the truth,” I said. “I see that you didn’t order my mother’s execution. That Vexis did. That you kept it from me to protect me. That you’ve been fighting this bond as hard as I have—because you’re afraid. Afraid of being used. Afraid of being weak. Afraid of love.”
His breath hitched.
“And I see that you love me,” I said, stepping closer. “Not because of the bond. Not because of the Council. But because I’m me. And that terrifies you.”
He didn’t deny it.
Just stood there, his chest rising and falling too fast, his fangs descended just slightly, his body coiled like a spring.
And then—
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice breaking.
“I do,” I said. “I’m asking you to stop hiding. To stop pretending. To stop fighting what we are.”
“And if I can’t?”
“Then I’ll make you,” I said, stepping closer, my hand rising to his chest, pressing against the mark beneath his shirt. The bond flared—hot, undeniable—and I gasped, my fingers tightening on the fabric. I could feel it—the way his heart beat, not with the steady rhythm of a vampire, but with the erratic pulse of a man who was alive. Who was feeling.
“You feel it too,” I whispered. “Don’t lie.”
He didn’t answer. Just covered my hand with his, pressing it harder against his chest, letting me feel the truth I already knew.
He was not unfeeling.
He was not unbreakable.
He was mine.
And I was his.
“I can see the future,” I said, my voice rough. “The visions. The child with silver-lavender eyes. The war. The fire. The betrayal.”
“And?”
“And I see another path,” I said. “One where we don’t fight. One where we don’t hide. One where we trust.”
His breath caught.
“And if we do?”
“Then we survive,” I said. “And we win.”
He didn’t move. Just stood there, his hand over mine, his eyes burning, the bond humming between us like a live wire. And then—
“Vexis knows,” he said. “He knows about the bond. About your bloodline. About the Oath. He’s coming. And when he does, he’ll use it—twist it, break it, turn it into a weapon against me.”
“Then we’ll be ready,” I said.
“And if he hurts you?”
“Then you’ll kill him,” I said. “And I’ll help you.”
He didn’t flinch. Just held my gaze, his chest rising and falling too fast. “And if I lose control? If I hurt you?”
“Then I’ll make you regret it,” I said, my voice rough. “Every damn day.”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not angry. Not desperate.
But true.
His lips crashed against mine, hard and demanding, his hand fisted in my hair, holding me still. I didn’t kiss him back—couldn’t. I was frozen, stunned, my body rigid against his. But I didn’t pull away. And that was enough.
The bond screamed.
Fire ripped through my veins, magic surging between us, lighting the sigils on the floor until the entire room blazed with silver light. I could taste him—dark wine and winter pine and something fierce—and for one reckless second, I forgot why I was here. Forgot the Council. Forgot the truce. Forgot everything but the way his lips felt beneath mine.
And then—
I bit him.
Not a love bite. Not a tease.
A wound.
My fangs sank into his lower lip, breaking skin, drawing blood. He groaned—low, guttural, aroused—and the bond exploded, a surge of magic so violent it made the walls shake. I tasted him—his blood, his power, his soul—and for the first time, I didn’t pull away.
I fed.
Just a sip. Just a taste.
But it was enough.
He broke the kiss, stepping back, his lip bleeding, his breath ragged, his eyes blazing. The mark on my collarbone burned, not with pain—but with fire.
“You’d hate me for it,” he said, breathless.
“I already do,” I whispered.
And then—
He smiled.
Not warm. Not kind.
A predator’s smile.
“Good,” he said. “Then you’ll remember.”
Silas cleared his throat.
We broke apart like we’d been struck.
He stood in the corner, his golden wolf eyes wide, his expression unreadable. “If you’re quite finished,” he said, his voice careful, “we have a war to plan.”
Kael didn’t look at him. Just kept his eyes on me, his hand still on my waist, his breath still unsteady. “Then we’ll plan it together,” he said. “As equals.”
I didn’t answer. Just stepped closer, my hand rising to his face, my thumb brushing the spot where my fangs had broken his skin. The bond flared—hot, undeniable. His breath caught. His eyes fluttered shut.
“You let me bite you,” I said. “You let me taste your blood. You let me—”
“—claim me,” he finished. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t punish me.”
“Because you didn’t betray me,” he said. “You fought me. You challenged me. And in that moment, you were mine.”
I didn’t answer. Just leaned in, my forehead resting against his, my breath mingling with his. The bond hummed between us, not with fire, but with something deeper. Something quiet.
And then—
“Kael,” Silas said. “The scouts just reported. Vexis is moving. He’s heading for the Iron Crypts.”
We broke apart, but I didn’t step away. Just kept my hand on his chest, my fingers pressed against the mark. The bond pulsed—hot, insistent, alive.
“Then we go to him,” I said.
Kael looked at me, his eyes silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly. “It’s a trap.”
“Then we’ll break it,” I said. “Together.”
He didn’t argue. Just nodded, his hand brushing mine. “Then we leave at dawn.”
I didn’t move. Just stood there, my hand still on his chest, the bond humming between us like a second heartbeat. The mark on my collarbone pulsed, warm and alive.
Not a curse.
A promise.