The silence after the battle wasn’t empty—it was full. Full of breath, of blood, of magic still crackling in the air like embers after a fire. The Obsidian Spire, once a temple of judgment and cold power, now felt… raw. Exposed. The torches flickered with unsteady flame, the sigils on the floor glowing faintly, no longer pulsing with ancient authority, but with something newer. Something alive. The mosaic was shattered, the dais cracked, the Council’s thrones leaning like broken teeth in the wreckage. And Vexis—
He was gone.
Not dead.
But broken.
And I—
I was still standing.
Kael was in my arms.
Not because he needed me.
Because he wanted me.
His face was buried in my neck, his breath ragged, his body trembling—not from weakness, but from release. The spell he’d taken for me had burned through his chest again, a wound of black fire that should have killed him. But it hadn’t. Not just because of the balm I’d used to seal it. Not just because of the bond.
Because of us.
He lifted his head slowly, his silver eyes meeting mine, the mark in his iris glowing faintly. There was no mask now. No cold control. No calculated distance. Just him. The man who had let me claim him. Who had stood in front of a killing spell. Who had faced the truth and still chosen me.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice rough.
I hadn’t even noticed.
My lower lip—where he’d bitten me, where I’d bitten him—was still split, a thin line of blood tracing down my chin. I touched it with my thumb, smearing the red across my skin. “So are you.”
He almost smiled. Almost.
Instead, he reached up, his fingers brushing the edge of my jaw, wiping the blood away. His touch was feather-light, but it sent fire through my veins. The bond flared—hot, immediate—but not with conflict. Not with pain.
With peace.
“We should go,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be. “Before the Council sends scouts. Before the Dark Council regroups. Before—”
“Before we have to be anything but this,” he finished, his thumb still on my skin.
I didn’t answer.
Just nodded.
We turned together, our boots clicking against the stone, the shattered remnants of the mosaic crunching beneath our feet. Silas was already at the entrance, his golden wolf eyes sharp, his stance relaxed but ready. The guards stood behind him, bloodied but alive, their weapons drawn, their shadows flickering in the torchlight. They didn’t speak. Didn’t ask what had happened. They could feel it—the shift, the crack in the armor, the unraveling of control.
But this time, it wasn’t fear.
It was recognition.
They saw us.
Not as enemies.
Not as master and prisoner.
As mated.
“We’re moving,” I said.
Silas didn’t ask why. Just nodded. “The eastern gate is clear. Vexis pulled back. For now.”
“Then we’ll be ready when he returns,” Kael said, stepping beside me, his coat flaring behind him, the silver runes glowing faintly in the dim light.
We left the Obsidian Spire as the first light of dawn crept through the Veil, the sky above Lyon painted in streaks of gold and crimson. The journey back to Shadowveil Court would take two days—through the Veil, across the frozen moors, past the ruins of the old coven strongholds. We traveled in silence, Kael at my side, the bond humming between us—tense, aching, alive—but neither of us spoke. The weight of what had happened—the battle, the blood, the truth—was too heavy for words.
By midday, the land began to change.
The earth softened beneath our boots, the ice giving way to frost-covered grass, the skeletal trees thinning into groves of silver-barked willow. The air grew warmer, the scent of pine returning, the Veil thinning around us like mist under sunlight. And then—
We saw it.
Shadowveil Court.
A fortress of black stone and silver flame, its spires piercing the sky like frozen daggers, its walls carved with sigils of power, its gates sealed with chains of enchanted iron. No banners flew. No guards stood watch. But I could feel them—the vampires. Watching. Waiting. Judging.
“They know we’re here,” I said.
“Of course they do,” Kael said, his hand brushing mine. “The Nocturne House sees all. Knows all. And forgives nothing.”
I almost laughed. Almost.
Instead, I stepped forward, my boots cracking against the frozen ground. “Then let them see me.”
The gates parted without sound, the iron splitting like glass, the chains falling away. No welcome. No challenge. Just silence.
And then—
We were home.
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.
We found our chambers as the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky turning violet, the air so cold it burned my lungs. The room was unchanged—the silver-threaded sheets, the bone-white vanity, the relic dagger strapped to my thigh. But it didn’t feel like a prison anymore.
It felt like a sanctuary.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my body heavy with exhaustion, my fingers tracing the scar on my lip. The bond pulsed—hot, insistent—and I knew Kael was watching me, his presence like a storm held at bay. He didn’t speak. Just stood by the window, his coat flaring behind him, the silver runes catching the last light of dusk. His eyes were silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly.
“You’re thinking,” he said.
“I’m remembering,” I said. “My mother. The Oath. The truth.”
He didn’t move. Just stepped closer, his boots silent on the stone, and knelt before me. 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 hilt of the dagger.
“You don’t have to carry this alone,” he said. “You don’t have to be her. You don’t have to be *me*.”
“And if I don’t?” I whispered. “If I walk away? What happens to the others? To the witches still bound? To the fae caught in the crossfire? To the Lupine Clans who’ll be blamed when the war starts?”
He didn’t answer. Just covered my hand with his, pressing it harder against the relic, letting me feel the truth I already knew.
He was not unfeeling.
He was not unbreakable.
He was hers.
And she was mine.
“Then we’ll break it together,” he said. “Not for the Council. Not for the truce. Not even for the war.”
“Then why?”
“Because we’re *alive*,” he said. “And because we *choose* each other. Every damn day.”
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—
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 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 bed. 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 bed.
“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 sheets, 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.