The night before the battle, the world held its breath.
No wind. No stars. No sound but the distant drip of water deep within the Iron Crypts and the slow, steady beat of my heart against the cage of my ribs. We’d made camp in a forgotten antechamber—walls of black stone veined with silver, a single torch flickering in the sconce, casting long, shifting shadows. Kael sat across from me, his back against the wall, his coat open, the silver runes along the edges glowing faintly in the dim light. Silas was on watch, his wolf-shadow flickering at the edge of the torchlight, his golden eyes scanning the darkness.
And between Kael and me—
Silence.
Not the kind born of anger. Not the cold distance of distrust.
This silence was alive. Thick with everything we hadn’t said. Everything we’d done. Everything we were about to face.
The Oath was broken. The ledger lay in ashes at the heart of the chamber, the chains shattered, the runes silenced. But Vexis was coming. And when he did, he wouldn’t care about broken oaths or ancient bloodlines. He would come for power. For revenge. For us.
And I—
I wasn’t afraid.
Not of him.
Not of the fight.
But of what would happen if we survived.
I shifted, the leather of my boots creaking against the stone. My palm still throbbed where I’d cut it—clean, sealed by witch’s balm, but the memory of the blood, the magic, the truth still pulsed beneath my skin. The mark on my collarbone burned, not with pain, but with presence. The bond was stronger now. Not because of magic. Not because of fate.
Because of choice.
Because of me.
I looked at Kael.
He was watching me. Not with the cold calculation of the Prince of House Nocturne. Not with the predatory hunger of a vampire who’d claimed his fated mate.
With something softer.
Something real.
“You should sleep,” he said, his voice low, rough. “Tomorrow won’t wait.”
“Neither will you,” I said.
He didn’t deny it. Just shifted, his boots scuffing against the stone as he sat forward. His eyes were silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly. “I don’t need sleep.”
“But I need you awake,” I said. “If you’re not, I’ll be the one carrying your body out of there.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. Not warm. Not kind.
But mine.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I’d love it,” I said, leaning back, my fingers brushing the hilt of the dagger at my thigh. “Imagine the stories. *Avalon, the half-breed who dragged the great Kael Nocturne out of battle like a sack of dead weight.*”
He laughed—low, dark, the sound vibrating through the chamber like thunder beneath stone. “You’d never get me off the ground.”
“And if I did?” I challenged. “What then?”
He didn’t answer. Just stood, his coat flaring behind him, and crossed the room in three strides. He stopped in front of me, his shadow swallowing mine, his presence like a storm held at bay. I didn’t flinch. Just tilted my head back, meeting his gaze, my silver-lavender eyes locking onto his.
And then—
He knelt.
Not in submission. Not in surrender.
In claim.
His hand rose, slow, deliberate, and brushed the mark on my collarbone. The bond flared—hot, immediate—and I gasped, my fingers tightening on the dagger. His thumb traced the curve of the thorned crescent, his touch feather-light, sending fire through my veins.
“You think I don’t feel it?” he murmured. “This bond? This fire between us? This—” his voice dropped, rough, intimate—“need?”
“I know you do,” I whispered. “I can feel it every time you look at me. Every time you touch me. Every time you don’t.”
His breath caught.
And then—
He leaned in.
Not to kiss me.
Not to bite.
Just to breathe with me.
His lips hovered just above mine, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath, the faint tremor in his jaw, the way his fangs had descended just slightly, betraying the hunger beneath his control. My body arched toward him, just slightly, just enough. My pulse jumped. My skin burned.
And the bond—
It wasn’t just magic.
It was us.
“You’re trembling,” he said, his voice low, rough.
“So are you.”
He didn’t deny it. Just pressed his forehead to mine, his hand sliding from my collarbone to my waist, pulling me forward until our bodies were flush. Heat radiated from him—unnatural, ancient, alive. His scent—dark wine and winter pine—filled my lungs. My fingers twitched toward his coat, wanting to touch, to feel, to know.
But I didn’t.
Not yet.
“I don’t want to fight you anymore,” I whispered.
“Then don’t,” he said. “Let me in.”
“And if I do?”
“Then you’ll survive,” he said. “And so will I.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then we die together,” he said. “But not before I make you remember what it felt like to be mine.”
My breath caught.
Not from shock.
From truth.
Because I did want to be his.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of the Council.
But because of the way he looked at me. The way he fought for me. The way he’d let me bite him, let me taste his blood, let me claim him.
And gods help me—
I wanted to claim him again.
I reached for him.
Not to fight.
Not to challenge.
To touch.
My fingers slid beneath the edge of his coat, tracing the hard planes of his chest, the steady, unnatural beat beneath the silk. The mark on his chest—crescent pierced by a thorn—burned beneath my palm, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He stilled, his breath catching, his body coiled like a spring.
And then—
He kissed me.
Not angry. Not desperate.
But true.
His lips crashed against mine, hard and demanding, his hand fisting 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 chamber 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 kissed him back.
Not gently. Not tenderly.
But with hunger.
My hands tore at his coat, ripping it from his shoulders, sending it sliding to the stone. His shirt followed—buttons popping, fabric tearing—as my fingers traced the ridges of his abdomen, the hard muscle beneath. He groaned—low, guttural, aroused—and the bond exploded, a surge of magic so violent it made the walls shake.
He lifted me, his hands on my waist, and I wrapped my legs around him, my boots kicking off as he carried me to the furs laid out near the torch. He laid me down, his body caging me in, his eyes burning silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly.
“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice rough, strained. “This isn’t just the bond. This isn’t just magic. This is you. Choosing me.”
I didn’t answer.
Just reached up, my fingers brushing the edge of his jaw, and pulled him down.
Our mouths crashed together again, tongues clashing, teeth scraping, breath mingling. His hands were everywhere—on my waist, my hips, my thighs—pulling me closer, grinding me against the hard length of him. I arched into him, moaning into his mouth, my fingers tangling in his ink-black hair.
And then—
He tore my tunic open.
Buttons flew. Fabric ripped. Cool air kissed my skin, but I didn’t feel it—only the heat of his hands, the rough drag of his palms as he traced the curve of my breasts, the pebbled peaks of my nipples through the thin lace of my chemise. He leaned down, his mouth closing over one, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, and I cried out, my back arching off the furs.
“Kael—”
“Say it again,” he growled, his voice inhuman, his fangs fully descended now. “Say my name like you mean it.”
“Kael,” I gasped, my fingers tightening in his hair. “Don’t stop—”
He didn’t.
His hands slid down my body, peeling away the remnants of my tunic, the chemise, the leather of my trousers. He stripped me bare, his eyes burning as he took me in—every scar, every curve, every inch of me. And then—
He lowered his head.
His mouth traced the line of my hip, the dip of my navel, the soft skin of my inner thigh. I trembled, my breath coming in ragged bursts, my body aching for him. And then—
He tasted me.
Not with magic. Not with magic. Not with magic.
With hunger.
His tongue slid through my folds, slow, deliberate, savoring. I cried out, my fingers digging into the furs, my hips lifting toward him. He groaned—deep in his chest—and the bond flared, white-hot, as he lapped at my clit, teasing, tormenting, driving me to the edge.
“Kael—please—”
“Beg,” he murmured against my skin. “Beg for me.”
“I need you—” I gasped. “Inside me—”
He didn’t make me wait.
He rose above me, his body a shadow against the flickering torchlight, his cock thick and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-come. He positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine.
“This is forever,” he said, his voice rough. “Once I’m inside you, there’s no going back.”
“Then don’t make me wait,” I whispered.
And he didn’t.
He thrust into me—deep, hard, full—and I screamed, not from pain, but from rightness. He filled me, stretched me, claimed me in a way no magic ever could. My body remembered his, even when my mind had fought it. My hips rose to meet his, my nails raking down his back as he began to move—slow at first, then faster, harder, driving into me with a rhythm that matched the pulse of the bond.
“You’re mine,” he growled, his fangs grazing my neck. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I gasped. “I’m yours—”
“And I’m yours,” he said, his voice breaking. “Every damn part of me.”
He bit me then—not deep, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make the bond scream. Pleasure ripped through me, white-hot and blinding, and I came—hard, shuddering, my body clenching around him as wave after wave crashed over me.
He followed me over the edge, his body tensing, his cock pulsing inside me as he spilled himself deep. He collapsed on top of me, his breath ragged, his face buried in my neck, his arms tight around me.
And then—
Silence.
Not the silence of before.
This silence was peace.
Warm. Whole. Ours.
I ran my fingers through his hair, my breath slowing, my body still humming with the aftershocks. The mark on my collarbone glowed faintly, warm and alive. The bond hummed between us—no longer a scream, no longer a curse.
A song.
He lifted his head, his eyes silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly. He didn’t speak. Just looked at me—really looked at me—and for the first time, I saw it.
Not just the vampire prince.
Not just the cold controller.
But the man.
The one who had loved me even when I’d tried to kill him.
The one who had let me claim him.
The one who had just made me his.
And gods help me—
I had never wanted anything more.
He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his touch feather-light. “You’re not what I expected,” he said.
“Neither are you,” I whispered.
He almost smiled. Almost.
Instead, he pulled me closer, tucking me against his chest, his arms tight around me. “Sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll keep watch.”
I didn’t argue. Just closed my eyes, my body heavy with exhaustion, my heart full with something I couldn’t name.
And as I drifted into sleep, I knew—
This wasn’t just about survival.
It wasn’t just about power.
It was about him.
And I was already lost.
But for the first time—
I didn’t want to be found.