The storm hit like a siege.
One moment, the halls of Shadowveil Court were still, the air thick with the aftermath of the Council’s decree. The next, thunder cracked across the sky, shaking the towers, and rain lashed the stained-glass windows with such force I thought the glass might shatter. Lightning split the night, illuminating the corridors in jagged bursts of silver-white, then plunging us back into darkness.
Kael didn’t react. He just stood in the doorway of his chambers, his silhouette sharp against the storm-lit hall, his expression unreadable. The bond between us flared with each flash of lightning, a pulse of heat beneath my skin, as if the magic itself responded to the chaos outside.
“You’ll stay here,” he said, voice low. “The East Wing is flooded. The lower corridors are impassable.”
I didn’t move. I stood just inside the threshold, my fingers curled around the edge of the doorframe, my breath steady despite the storm—and despite the way my body still hummed from his kiss in the Council chamber. That kiss. It hadn’t been real. It hadn’t been *for me*. It had been a performance, a weapon, a way to prove to the Council that the bond was unbreakable.
But gods, it had *felt* real.
His lips had been hard, demanding, but there’d been something beneath it—something raw, something desperate. And when he pulled away, his eyes had been silver, not black, his pulse racing, his breath uneven. He’d felt it too. The surge of magic. The heat. The *want*.
And now, he was telling me I had to sleep in his bed.
“I’ll take the floor,” I said.
He turned, his coat sweeping behind him as he stepped into the room. “No. You’ll take the bed. With me.”
My spine stiffened. “That wasn’t part of the arrangement.”
“The arrangement,” he said, closing the door with a soft, final click, “is whatever I say it is. The Council expects us to share quarters. They’ll send spies. They’ll test the bond. If they find you sleeping on the floor like a servant, they’ll know it’s a lie.”
“Then let them.”
He moved faster than I could track.
One second, he was across the room. The next, he had me pinned against the door, one hand braced beside my head, the other gripping my wrist. The bond *exploded*—fire racing through my veins, my breath catching in my throat. His body was heat against mine, his chest rising and falling too fast. His eyes were no longer black. They shimmered with silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly, mirroring the one on my collarbone.
“You don’t get to decide what’s part of the arrangement,” he said, voice rough. “You don’t get to decide *anything*.”
“Then why do you care?” I shot back, my voice trembling only slightly. “If this is all a lie, if I’m just a tool, then why does it matter where I sleep?”
He leaned in, his breath warm against my neck. “Because the bond isn’t a lie.”
The words hit me like a blade.
It wasn’t just the truth of them. It was the way he said it—low, raw, stripped of all control. As if he hadn’t meant to admit it. As if the storm, the darkness, the closeness of us had stripped something from him.
And then—
He stepped back.
Just like that. Released me. Turned away. The mask was back in place—cold, calculating, unreadable. But I’d seen it. The crack. The hunger. The *fear*.
“The bed is large,” he said, moving to the hearth. With a flick of his wrist, cold blue flames sparked to life, casting long shadows across the stone walls. “We won’t touch. We won’t speak. We’ll sleep. And in the morning, the Council will believe we’re mates.”
I didn’t answer. I just watched him—his broad shoulders, the way his coat hugged the line of his back, the silver runes glowing faintly in the dim light. He looked like a king. A conqueror. A monster.
And yet.
When the lightning flashed again, I saw it—the way his fingers tightened around the edge of the mantle, the way his jaw clenched, the way his breath came just a little too fast.
He was fighting it too.
I crossed the room slowly, my boots silent on the black marble floor. The bed was massive—a four-poster of carved obsidian, draped in silver-threaded silk, the sheets black as midnight. A single candle floated above it, its flame cold and blue, casting a soft glow over the pillows.
I didn’t look at him as I stepped out of my shoes and climbed onto the bed, keeping to the far edge, as far from him as possible. The sheets were cool against my skin, the fabric impossibly soft. I lay on my back, my hands folded over my stomach, my eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Kael didn’t join me right away. He stood by the hearth, his back to me, his silhouette sharp against the fire. The storm raged outside, rain hammering the balcony doors, thunder shaking the walls. The bond pulsed between us, a steady, insistent rhythm, like a second heartbeat.
And then—
He moved.
He stripped off his coat, folding it over a chair with precise, deliberate movements. Then his boots. Then his gloves. He didn’t look at me. Didn’t speak. Just climbed onto the bed, lying on his back on the opposite edge, his hands clasped over his chest, his eyes closed.
We were inches apart.
And yet, it might as well have been miles.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy, broken only by the storm and the slow, steady rhythm of our breathing. The bond hummed, a constant, low thrum beneath my skin, but I refused to acknowledge it. I stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the stone, focusing on anything but the man lying beside me.
But I could *feel* him.
His heat. His scent—dark wine and winter pine, laced with something darker, something ancient. The way his breath hitched every few minutes, as if he was fighting to stay still. The way his fingers twitched once, twice, as if he wanted to reach for me.
And then—
A flash of lightning.
The room lit up in a burst of silver-white, and for one frozen second, I saw him—his face relaxed in sleep, his lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. And his hand—
It was on my waist.
Just resting there, his palm flat against the fabric of my dress, his fingers curled slightly, as if he’d reached for me in his sleep and hadn’t realized it.
I froze.
The bond *screamed*—a surge of heat rushing through my veins, my breath catching in my throat. My skin burned where he touched me, the mark on my collarbone pulsing in time with my heartbeat. I should have pulled away. I should have shoved his hand off, rolled to the edge of the bed, put as much distance between us as possible.
But I didn’t.
I just lay there, my body rigid, my breath shallow, my heart pounding. His thumb moved—just slightly—brushing against the curve of my hip, a slow, unconscious caress. And gods help me, it sent a jolt of something dark and dangerous through me.
Desire.
It wasn’t just physical. It was deeper. It was the sudden, overwhelming awareness of *him*—his thoughts, his hunger, the cold, controlled fury beneath his calm. I could feel the way his breath caught, the way his fangs dropped just slightly, the way his grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he forced it back under control.
He felt it too.
Our eyes locked. His were no longer black. They shimmered with silver, the mark in his iris glowing faintly, mirroring the one on my skin. The connection deepened, a current of magic and something darker, something primal, surging between us.
“You feel it,” he murmured. “Don’t lie.”
I tried to pull away. My muscles screamed in protest, not from resistance, but from *need*. My body didn’t want to leave. It wanted to step closer. To press against him. To feel his hands on me, his mouth on my neck, his fangs breaking skin—
I wrenched my arm free.
The separation was like a blade to the chest. I staggered back, gasping, my palm flying to the mark on my collarbone. It burned, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. My breath came in ragged bursts, my skin still tingling where he’d touched me.
Kael didn’t move. He just watched me, his expression unreadable. But his chest rose and fell too fast. His jaw was clenched. And for the first time, I saw it—
He was fighting it too.
“This bond,” I panted, “is a curse. It means nothing.”
“It means everything,” he said. “To the Council. To the truce. To the war that’s coming if you don’t play your part.”
“And what part is that? Your obedient little mate?” I spat. “Your political puppet?”
“For now,” he said, stepping closer, “you’re my prisoner. But if you want to live, you’ll pretend to be my salvation.”
He reached for me again.
This time, I didn’t flinch. I stood my ground, my fingers twitching toward the dagger. But he didn’t touch me. He stopped inches away, his breath warm against my skin. His voice dropped, low, intimate, meant only for me.
“You’ll wear the dress I’ve chosen. You’ll smile when I take your hand. You’ll let me touch you in front of the Council, and you’ll *not* pull away.”
“Or what?” I challenged. “You’ll lock me in a cell? Kill me?”
“No,” he said. “I’ll let the bond do it for me.”
He turned and walked away, his boots echoing down the hall.
And for the first time, I understood.
This wasn’t just about revenge.
This was about survival.
The guards returned, escorting me to my new quarters in the East Wing. The room was opulent—black silk drapes, a four-poster bed with silver-threaded sheets, a vanity carved from bone-white stone. A single window looked out over the moonlit gardens, the silver vines twisting like living things.
But it was a cage.
They left me alone, the door locking behind them with a soft, final click.
I waited until I was certain no one was watching. Then I pulled the dagger from its sheath, holding it up to the moonlight. The blade shimmered, dark and deadly, forged from sacred iron—the only thing that could harm a pureblood vampire.
And yet.
When I pressed the edge to my palm, the mark on my collarbone *burned*. Not from the metal. From the bond.
It was rejecting the act. As if the magic itself knew I was meant to protect him, not kill him.
I cursed, tossing the dagger onto the bed. My hands trembled. My skin still hummed from Kael’s touch. I could still feel the ghost of his fingers on my wrist, the way my pulse had jumped beneath them, the way my breath had hitched when he’d leaned in—
No.
I wouldn’t let this happen. I wouldn’t let the bond control me. I wouldn’t let *him* control me.
I crossed to the vanity, gripping the edge of the stone. My reflection stared back at me—silver-lavender eyes wide, dark waves tangled, lips still slightly parted from the shock of his touch.
And then—
I saw it.
The scar across my left palm—the mark of the Blood Oath—was *glowing*. A faint, pulsing red, like embers beneath the skin. I hadn’t seen it do that since I was a child, the night my mother died.
Something in my blood was waking.
I pressed my palm to the mark on my collarbone.
The moment I did, a jolt of magic surged through me. Not from the bond. Not from Kael.
From *me*.
Images flickered behind my eyes—flashes of a future I didn’t understand. Kael’s hand on my waist in the dark. His lips on my neck. A child’s laughter, silver-lavender eyes staring up at me—
I wrenched my hand away, gasping.
What the hell was that?
I didn’t have time to process it. A knock at the door.
“Lady Avalon,” a voice called. “Your attire has arrived.”
I wiped my palm on my dress, hiding the glow. “Enter.”
A servant stepped in, carrying a gown of deep crimson silk, the bodice embroidered with silver thorns. The color of blood. Of warning.
“The Prince requests your presence at the evening council,” she said, laying the dress across the bed. “He insists you wear this.”
I stared at it. A message. A challenge.
He wanted me to play the part. To wear his colors. To stand beside him like I belonged.
Fine.
I would wear the dress.
I would stand beside him.
But I wouldn’t pretend.
Not for a second.
When the servant left, I stripped off my travel-worn clothes and stepped into the gown. The fabric was cool against my skin, the fit impossibly perfect, as if it had been made for me. The corset tightened around my waist, pushing my breasts up, the neckline plunging just enough to reveal the mark on my collarbone.
Deliberate.
Kael wanted the Council to see it. To know.
I braided my hair, securing it with a silver clasp shaped like a thorn. Then I picked up the dagger, sliding it into a hidden sheath beneath the folds of the gown.
Let him think I was his.
Let the Council believe the lie.
But I would never forget what I came here to do.
When I opened the door, Kael was waiting.
He stood in the hall, tall and imposing, his coat open to reveal a black silk shirt beneath, the silver runes along his collar glowing faintly. His eyes locked onto mine, then dropped to the mark at my throat, then to the curve of my breasts above the neckline.
And for the first time, I saw it—
Hunger.
Not just in his eyes.
In the bond.
It flared between us, hot and undeniable, a pulse of magic that made my breath catch. My skin tingled. My blood sang.
He took a step forward.
“You look… adequate,” he said, voice rough.
I lifted my chin. “Disappointed? Were you hoping I’d refuse?”
“No,” he said. “I was hoping you’d understand.”
“Understand what?”
“That this,” he said, reaching for my hand, “isn’t just a game.”
His fingers closed around mine.
The world *burned*.