The first thing I felt was warmth.
Not the cold, sterile stillness of my chambers—the kind that had defined my nights for centuries—but something alive. Breathing. Beating. Avalon lay against my chest, her head tucked beneath my chin, one arm draped across my waist, her fingers curled slightly against the skin just above my hip. Her dark waves spilled over my arm, the scent of moon-bloom and iron tangled in the strands. Her breath was soft, even, her body relaxed in sleep, the tension of war and vengeance finally loosened from her muscles.
And her mark—
It glowed.
Faint, golden, pulsing in time with her heartbeat, just above the curve of her hip where I’d bitten her. Not deeply. Not in claim. But in surrender. In truth. The bond hummed between us, not with the fire of conflict, not with the hunger of magic, but with something quieter. Something whole.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t breathe.
I just… watched.
For the first time in two hundred years, I let myself look at someone without calculation. Without defense. Without the need to control. I traced the line of her jaw with my gaze, the faint scar along her collarbone where the thorned crescent had first branded her, the way her lips parted slightly in sleep, the way her lashes fluttered when a dream passed through her mind. She looked younger like this. Not like the assassin who’d walked into my ancestral temple with a dagger and a death wish. Not like the hybrid who’d challenged the Council, broken the Oath, claimed me as hers.
Like a woman.
Like mine.
And gods help me—I wanted her to stay.
Not because of the bond. Not because of the truce. Not even because of the war that was coming.
Because I was tired of being alone.
I shifted slightly, just enough to pull the furs tighter around her, and her body responded instinctively, pressing closer, her thigh sliding between mine, her fingers tightening against my skin. A low hum rose in her throat—content, sleepy, mine—and my chest tightened, a sensation so foreign I almost didn’t recognize it.
Was this… peace?
Or just the quiet before the storm?
I turned my head, my eyes catching the first light of dawn creeping through the cracks in the stone. The torch had burned low, its flame flickering against the wall, casting long, shifting shadows. Silas stood at the entrance, his back to us, his wolf-shadow flickering in the dim light. He didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. But I knew he was watching. Knew he could smell it—the mingled scents of sweat and sex and blood, the way our auras had fused, the way the bond now pulsed with something deeper than magic.
He’d known this would happen.
And I didn’t care.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low, careful.
“I never slept,” I said.
He turned then, his golden wolf eyes sharp, his expression unreadable. “You look… different.”
“I feel different.”
He didn’t flinch. Just studied me—the way my hand rested on Avalon’s back, the way my thumb moved in slow circles against her skin, the way my body curved around hers like a shield. “You let her in.”
It wasn’t a question.
It was a statement.
And I didn’t deny it.
“She didn’t have to,” I said. “She chose to.”
Silas exhaled, almost a laugh. “And you?”
“I chose to let her.”
He nodded, slow, deliberate. “She’s not like the others.”
“No,” I said. “She’s not.”
“And you’re not like the man you were yesterday.”
My chest tightened.
Not from anger.
From truth.
He was right.
I wasn’t the same man who had stood in the ancestral temple and declared, “Then you’ll die with me.” I wasn’t the prince who had ruled through fear, who had hidden behind duty, who had buried his heart beneath layers of ice and control.
I was something else now.
Something weaker.
Something stronger.
And I didn’t want to go back.
“Vexis is moving,” Silas said. “The scouts reported a surge in dark magic near the Crypts’ eastern gate. He’s not waiting.”
I didn’t move. Just kept my hand on Avalon’s back, my body still curled around hers. “Then we’ll meet him.”
“You think she’s ready?”
“She’s more ready than I’ve ever been,” I said. “She broke the Oath. She faced her mother’s truth. She claimed me.”
“And if he uses that against you?”
“Then he’ll learn what it means to threaten what’s mine,” I said, my voice low, rough.
Silas didn’t argue. Just nodded, his golden eyes sharp. “Then I’ll prepare the guards. We leave in an hour.”
He turned to go.
“Silas,” I said.
He stopped, but didn’t turn.
“Thank you,” I said. “For standing by me. For seeing her. For… not letting me become the monster I feared I was.”
He was silent for a long moment.
And then—
“You were never the monster,” he said, his voice quiet. “You were just afraid of being human.”
And then he was gone, his wolf-shadow flickering behind him.
I lay there for a long moment, my hand still on Avalon’s back, the bond humming between us like a second heartbeat. The mark on her hip glowed faintly, warm and alive. The first light of dawn crept across the stone, painting the chamber in soft gold and shadow.
And then—
She stirred.
Her fingers twitched against my skin. Her breath hitched. Her lashes fluttered, and then—
Her eyes opened.
Silver-lavender. Wide. Unguarded.
She didn’t speak. Just looked at me—really looked at me—as if she’d never seen me before. And maybe she hadn’t. Maybe last night had stripped away the armor, the lies, the centuries of control, and left only the truth.
And the truth was—
I loved her.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of fate.
Because she had looked into the darkness of me and hadn’t flinched.
Because she had fought me.
Because she had claimed me.
Because she had stayed.
“You’re watching me,” she said, her voice rough with sleep.
“I’ve been watching you for hours,” I said.
She didn’t smile. Just shifted, pressing closer, her leg sliding between mine, her hand moving lower, just above the curve of my hip. The bond flared—hot, immediate—and I stilled, my breath catching in my throat.
“And?” she whispered. “What do you see?”
“I see the woman who broke the Oath,” I said. “The heir of the Winter Court. The only one who’s ever made me feel… alive.”
Her breath caught.
Not from shock.
From recognition.
She didn’t speak. Just reached up, her fingers brushing the edge of my jaw, her thumb tracing the line of my lip where she’d bitten me. The mark had healed, but the memory of her fangs, her blood, her claim still pulsed beneath my skin.
“You let me,” she said. “You let me taste your blood. You let me—”
“—claim me,” I finished. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t punish me.”
“Because you didn’t betray me,” I said. “You fought me. You challenged me. And in that moment, you were mine.”
She didn’t answer. Just leaned in, her forehead resting against mine, her breath mingling with mine. The bond hummed between us, not with fire, but with something deeper. Something quiet.
And then—
“We have to go,” she said, her voice low. “Vexis is coming.”
“I know.”
She pulled back, just slightly, her eyes searching mine. “And if we don’t come back?”
“Then we die together,” I said. “But not before I make you remember what it felt like to be mine.”
She almost smiled. Almost.
Instead, she sat up, the furs slipping from her shoulders, revealing the golden mark on her hip, the scars across her body, the strength in her spine, the fire in her eyes. She was beautiful. Not in the way of courtly elegance or vampire perfection. But in the way of something real. Something fierce. Something hers.
She reached for her tunic, torn and discarded the night before, and began to dress. I watched her—every movement, every breath, every flicker of magic in her eyes. And then—
“Kael,” she said, not looking at me. “If I don’t make it—”
“You will,” I said.
“If I don’t—”
“Then I’ll follow you into the dark,” I said, sitting up, my voice rough. “And I’ll drag Vexis down with me.”
She turned then, her silver-lavender eyes locking onto mine. “And if you don’t?”
“Then you’ll haunt me,” I said. “Every damn day.”
She didn’t flinch. Just stepped forward, her hand rising to my face, her thumb brushing the edge of my jaw. The bond flared—hot, undeniable. My breath caught. My skin burned.
“Then make sure you live,” she said. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”
I didn’t answer. Just pulled her down, my hand fisting in her hair, my mouth crashing against hers. Not angry. Not desperate.
But true.
She kissed me back—hard, hungry, mine—and the bond screamed, a surge of magic so violent it made the torch flicker. I tasted her—mint and iron and something wild—and for one reckless second, I forgot why I was here. Forgot the war. Forgot the truce. Forgot everything but the way her lips felt beneath mine.
And then—
We broke apart.
Breathless. Shaking. Alive.
“We have to go,” she said again, her voice rough.
“I know.”
She stepped back, her boots clicking against the stone as she pulled on her leather, strapped on her dagger, fastened the vial of balm at her belt. I dressed in silence, my coat flaring behind me, the silver runes glowing faintly in the dim light. The mark on my chest—crescent pierced by a thorn—burned beneath the fabric, a reminder of what we’d done, what we’d become.
And then—
We left.
Silas waited at the entrance, his golden eyes sharp, his stance relaxed but ready. The guards fell into step behind us, silent, obedient. The air was thick with tension, with magic, with something darker, something familiar.
And then—
“Kael,” Silas said, his voice low. “The scouts just reported. Vexis is at the eastern gate. He’s not alone.”
We stopped.
Avalon turned to me, her silver-lavender eyes sharp, her jaw clenched. “Then we’ll break him.”
I didn’t answer. Just covered her hand with mine, pressing it harder against my chest, letting her feel the truth I already knew.
I was not unfeeling.
I was not unbreakable.
I was hers.
And she was mine.
“Together,” I said.
She didn’t smile. Just nodded, her fingers tightening around mine.
And then we walked into the dawn.
The world held its breath.
And we—
We were ready.