I came here to save her.
And now I’m standing at the edge of the northern ridge, the wind howling through the stone towers of the Iron Court, my body still humming with the echo of her touch, her taste, her surrender. The sky is bruised with storm clouds, low and heavy, the first drops of rain slicing through the air like silver needles. Below, the fortress stirs—Alphas sharpening blades, Betas reinforcing the gates, envoys whispering in shadowed corners. The final signing of the Blood Moon Treaty has been delayed, but not canceled. And every instinct in my body screams that the calm before the storm is over.
She’s not here.
Not with me.
She’s inside, wrapped in gold silk and defiance, her magic still crackling in the air from the way she tore the truth from the High Elder’s throat and flung it into the light. She stood beside me. Not behind me. Not beneath me. Beside. And when she raised her hand, when the runes on the floor ignited with her power, when she declared that we rule together—
I felt it.
Not just pride.
Not just possession.
Fear.
Because she’s no longer just my mate.
She’s a queen.
And queens bleed.
I press two fingers to the mating mark on my chest—just over my heart, twin to hers. It pulses faintly, warm, alive, hungry. The bond hums between us, stronger than ever, a golden thread woven through our blood, our breath, our dreams. I can feel her—her heartbeat, her breath, the heat between her thighs that still hasn’t faded from our joining. She’s safe. She’s protected. She’s mine.
But not for long.
Because Thorne is coming.
He sent no messenger. No formal request. Just a single drop of blood left on the council table, sealed in a vial marked with crimson runes. A summons. A challenge. A blood oath.
And I know what he wants.
Not war.
Not power.
Her.
“He’s at the gate,” Riven says, stepping up beside me, his voice low, his eyes sharp. “Says he won’t enter unless you meet him.”
“Let him wait,” I growl.
“He says it’s urgent,” Riven says. “Says if you don’t answer, the oath stands broken—and the consequences fall on her.”
I freeze.
My wolf snarls, low and rough, my fangs pressing into my lip. A blood oath is ancient. Binding. If I refuse, it’s not just dishonor. It’s not just war.
It’s a death sentence.
And Thorne knows it.
“He’s playing with fire,” I say, turning from the ridge. “But he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”
Riven follows. “You’re not going alone.”
“I am,” I say. “This is between me and him. If the pack intervenes, it breaks the terms. And if the terms break—”
“She dies,” Riven finishes. “I know.”
We descend through the fortress—stone corridors slick with rain, torches flickering with unnatural blue at the edges. The scent of iron and pine fills the air, mingling with something darker—power. The pack watches as I pass. They don’t speak. Don’t bow. Just watch. And I know what they’re thinking.
She changed me.
Not just in body.
Not just in bond.
In rule.
And they’re afraid.
Because I am too.
The gates loom ahead—black iron, etched with ancient runes, sealed with blood magic. They part as I approach, the hinges groaning like a dying beast. And there he stands.
Thorne.
Tall. Pale. Dressed in a black coat that looks more like a shroud than clothing. His black eyes gleam in the stormlight, his fangs just visible as he smiles. He doesn’t bow. Doesn’t kneel. Just watches me—like I’m a puzzle he’s already solved.
“Kael,” he says, voice smooth, dark. “I see you received my invitation.”
“It wasn’t an invitation,” I say, stepping forward. “It was a threat.”
“Semantics,” he says, stepping inside. The gates close behind him, sealing us in the courtyard. Rain slices through the air, soaking his coat, his hair, his skin. He doesn’t flinch. Just smiles. “You know why I’m here.”
“You want her blood,” I say. “To break your immortality curse. To gain power. To start a war.”
“I want her,” he corrects. “Not just her blood. Not just her power. But her trust. Her loyalty. Her choice.”
“She’ll never choose you,” I snarl.
“Won’t she?” He tilts his head. “You forget, Kael. I was the one who gave her the truth. I was the one who showed her what really happened the night her mother died. I was the one who saved her from the poison.”
“And I was the one who took it into my body,” I growl. “I was the one who drank her blood to save her. I was the one who nearly died for her.”
“And yet,” he says, stepping closer, “you still don’t trust her. You still keep her locked in your chambers. You still control her every move. You still treat her like a weapon.”
My wolf roars.
I grab him, slam him against the gate, my fangs at his throat. “She’s mine,” I snarl. “And if you so much as breathe her name again—”
“You’ll kill me?” he says, not flinching. “Go ahead. But know this—” His voice drops. “—if you do, the blood oath stands unfulfilled. And the moment you draw my blood, she dies. The magic will see to it.”
I freeze.
Because he’s right.
A blood oath is not just a challenge.
It’s a contract.
And if I break it—
She pays the price.
I release him slowly, stepping back. “Then say what you want.”
He straightens his coat, his smile slow, dark. “Simple. A blood exchange. Three drops. Three truths. Three promises. If you refuse—” He looks at the fortress. “—she dies. If you accept—” He meets my gaze. “—she’s free to choose.”
“She’ll never choose you,” I say.
“Then you have nothing to fear,” he says. “Do you?”
My fangs ache. My wolf snarls. The bond flares—golden light flickering beneath my skin, the runes on my chest glowing faintly. I can feel her—inside, warm, safe, alive. But I also feel the weight of the oath, the ancient magic binding us, the danger coiling like a serpent in the dark.
“You’re playing with forces you don’t understand,” I say.
“I understand them better than you think,” he says. “And I know what she is. Not just half-fae. Not just half-witch. But the last blood of the High Priestess. The key to breaking the curse. The queen who could rule them all.”
“She’s not a prize,” I growl. “She’s my mate.”
“Is she?” he says. “Or is she just the woman you used to protect your treaty? The weapon you wielded to silence the Council? The girl you let hate you for ten years so you could keep her safe?”
My breath stops.
Because he sees it.
He sees the truth I’ve buried beneath dominance, beneath duty, beneath the lie that I did it all for peace.
I did it for her.
And I let her believe I was the monster—
So I could keep her alive.
“You don’t get to question me,” I say, voice low, dangerous.
“I don’t,” he says. “But the oath does. And if you want to keep her alive, you’ll accept it.”
I stare at him—black eyes, pale skin, fangs just visible in the stormlight. He’s not just a vampire.
He’s a predator.
And he’s not here to kill me.
He’s here to take what’s mine.
“Fine,” I say. “The blood exchange. Here. Now.”
He smiles. “Wise choice.”
He pulls a silver dagger from his coat—ancient, etched with fae runes, the blade glowing faintly with magic. He presses it to his palm, slices deep. Blood wells—dark, thick, laced with something ancient and cold. He holds it out.
“First drop,” he says. “A truth. I never wanted war. I wanted her. From the moment I saw her, I knew—she’s the one who can break my curse. Not by force. Not by blood alone. But by choice.”
I don’t move.
Just watch.
He presses his palm to the ground. The blood sinks into the stone, the runes glowing brighter.
“Your turn,” he says.
I take the dagger. Press it to my palm. Slice deep. Blood wells—dark, thick, laced with werewolf magic. I hold it out.
“First truth,” I say. “I let her believe I killed her mother. I let her hate me. I let her try to destroy me—so I could keep her alive.”
He nods. “And you would do it again.”
“In a heartbeat,” I say.
I press my palm to the ground. The blood sinks in. The runes flare.
“Second drop,” he says. “A promise. I will not harm her. Not physically. Not magically. Not emotionally. I will not force her. I will not manipulate her. I will wait for her choice.”
I stare at him. “And if she chooses you?”
“Then she’s free to go,” he says. “And you’ll never see her again.”
My wolf snarls.
But I don’t refuse.
Because I know—
She’ll never choose him.
“Second promise,” I say. “I will never keep her from the truth again. No more lies. No more secrets. No more control. She will have her freedom. Her choice. Her power.”
He studies me. “You mean it.”
“I do,” I say. “Because she’s not a weapon. She’s not a pawn. She’s not a queen I can command.”
“She’s your equal,” he says.
“She’s my heart,” I say.
I press my palm to the ground. The blood sinks in. The runes blaze.
“Final drop,” he says. “A truth. If she chooses me, I will not use her blood to start a war. I will not use her power to overthrow you. I will not take her from this world. I will set her free.”
I don’t believe him.
But the magic does.
Because the moment he speaks, the runes flare—golden light erupting across the courtyard, the air crackling with power. The oath is sealed.
“Your final truth,” he says.
I take a breath.
And I say the words I’ve buried for ten years.
“I love her,” I say, voice raw. “Not because of the bond. Not because of duty. Not because she’s my mate. But because she’s the only one who’s ever made me afraid of losing something. The only one who’s ever made me want to be something more than a king. The only one who’s ever made me feel like I’m not just a monster.”
The runes erupt.
Golden light floods the courtyard, the storm stills, the rain stops. The magic hums in the air—ancient, binding, real.
It’s done.
The blood oath is sealed.
And she’s free to choose.
Thorne steps back, sheathing the dagger. “It’s in her hands now,” he says. “Not yours. Not mine. Hers.”
“She’ll never choose you,” I say.
“Maybe not,” he says. “But she’ll choose. And that’s all that matters.”
He turns to go.
“Wait,” I say.
He stops.
“If you hurt her—” I say, voice low, dangerous. “—I’ll rip your heart out and feed it to the wolves.”
He smiles. “You already would. But you won’t have to.”
Then he’s gone, vanishing into the storm.
I stand there, my palm still bleeding, my body humming with the echo of the oath, the bond pulsing like a second heartbeat. The runes on the ground glow faintly, the magic still humming in the air.
And I know—
I’ve just given her the one thing I’ve always denied her.
Freedom.
I return to the chambers slowly, my boots silent on the stone, my presence a storm. The fortress is quiet. The pack watches. But I don’t care.
Because she’s waiting.
The door is unlocked.
She’s not hiding.
She’s standing by the hearth, dressed in the gold gown, her dark hair loose, her gold eyes burning. She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t speak. Just stands there, her hand pressed to the mating mark on her shoulder.
“You feel it,” I say.
She nods. “The oath. The magic. The choice.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” I say. “If I refused, you would have died.”
“And now?” she asks, turning to me. “Now I do?”
“Yes,” I say. “Thorne offered a blood exchange. Three truths. Three promises. And in the end—” I take a breath. “—I gave you your freedom. Your choice. Your power.”
She stares at me—gold eyes sharp, fierce, alive. “And if I choose him?”
My wolf snarls.
My fangs ache.
But I don’t lie.
“Then you go,” I say. “And I’ll let you.”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches me—like she’s seeing me for the first time.
Then she steps forward.
And she kisses me.
Not gentle.
Not sweet.
Violent.Her mouth crashes into mine, her fangs scraping my lips, her tongue claiming me like she owns me. And I—
I kiss her back.
My hands fist in her hair, pulling her closer, my body arching into hers, my core aching, needing. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
When she pulls back, her breath is ragged, her eyes wild, her lips swollen. “I came here to kill you,” she says, voice trembling.
“And yet,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers, “you saved me.”
“I don’t want to be free,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be anyone else. I don’t want to be anything but yours.”
And I know—
She’s made her choice.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of duty.
But because she wants to.
“You’re mine,” I whisper, stroking her hair. “And I’m yours. And no one—no one—takes what’s ours.”
She doesn’t answer.
Just leans into me, her body trembling, her breath warm against my neck.
And I let myself believe—
Maybe I don’t have to win this war.
Maybe I don’t have to destroy them.
Maybe—
Maybe I can just belong.
I came here to save her.
And now—
I think she saved me.
And worse—
I don’t want to be anyone else.