I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now I’m kneeling beside him on the cold stone floor of the healing chamber, my fingers trembling as I press the silver dagger to his skin.
The runes I’m about to carve into his back aren’t just magic.
They’re a vow.
A surrender.
A war cry.
Kael lies face down on the furs, his bare back a battlefield of scars—claw marks from ancient fights, burns from fae fire, the deep, jagged line across his shoulder blade where he took the blade meant for me. His breath is steady, his body relaxed, but I can feel the tension humming beneath his skin. The bond pulses between us—golden, insistent, alive—a live wire stretched taut. He doesn’t flinch as I press the blade to the base of his spine. Doesn’t move as I begin to cut.
The first stroke is shallow.
A whisper of pain.
But I feel it.
Not just in the tremor of his muscles, not just in the sharp inhale of his breath—but in the bond. A jolt runs through me, hot and electric, like the rune is being carved into my own flesh. My fingers tighten on the hilt. The silver is cold, etched with ancient witch script, the edge sharpened with moonlight and blood. It’s the same dagger I brought with me when I infiltrated the Iron Court. The same blade I meant to use to slit his throat.
And now—
I’m using it to save him.
The rune is a ward—*Vel’thar*, the sigil of unbreakable protection. It will shield him from magic, from poison, from the curses the Fae High Court will surely send. But it’s not just power. It’s intimacy. It’s trust. It’s the first time I’ve willingly given him something—no lies, no deception, no hidden agenda. Just my hands, my blood, my magic, my truth.
“You don’t have to do this,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough with restraint. “The bond already protects me.”
“The bond isn’t enough,” I say, pressing the blade deeper, tracing the next line. “Not against what’s coming. Not against the High Court. Not against the oaths they’ll summon.”
He doesn’t argue.
Just exhales, long and slow, as the silver bites into his flesh. Blood wells—dark, thick, laced with werewolf magic—and I catch it on my fingers, smearing it along the fresh cut to activate the rune. The moment my blood touches his, the sigil flares—golden light erupting beneath his skin, the magic crackling in the air.
And the bond—
It screams.
Not in pain.
Not in warning.
In recognition.
Like it knows what this means.
That I’m not just protecting him.
I’m claiming him.
My hands tremble as I work—over his spine, up his ribs, across the broad plane of his back. The rune is complex, a spiral of interlocking symbols that pulse with power. Each stroke is precise, each line deliberate. I don’t rush. Don’t falter. I’ve carved runes like this a hundred times—on weapons, on walls, on my own skin. But never like this. Never on someone I love.
Never on someone I want to protect.
“You’re quiet,” he says, his voice muffled against the furs.
“I’m focused,” I say.
“You’re afraid,” he corrects.
I press the blade too deep.
He doesn’t flinch.
But I do.
Because he’s right.
I am afraid.
Not of the magic.
Not of the blood.
But of what this means.
That I’m not just his mate.
I’m his shield.
His weapon.
His queen.
And I don’t know if I’m ready.
“I watched you,” he says, voice low. “When you stood before the Fae High Court. When you raised your hand and set the runes ablaze. When you told them you’d burn their court to ash.”
“And?”
“And I’ve never been more proud,” he says. “Or more afraid.”
I pause, the blade hovering over his skin. “Afraid of me?”
“Afraid for you,” he says. “Because they won’t stop. They’ll curse you. Bind you. Summon the spirits of your ancestors to turn you against me.”
“They can try,” I say, pressing the blade back to his flesh. “But they’ll fail.”
“Because of the bond?”
“Because of me,” I say. “I’m not just half-fae. Not just half-witch. I’m both. And I’m stronger for it.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just exhales as I complete the final stroke—the apex of the spiral, just between his shoulder blades. The moment the line closes, the rune ignites—golden light flooding the chamber, the sigil burning beneath his skin, the air crackling with magic. The bond surges—stronger than ever, a flood of heat, of power, of truth. My magic flares—golden light erupting from my palms, my fae blood singing in my veins. The furs beneath him ignite. The torches blaze. The walls tremble.
And then—
Silence.
Just our breath, ragged and heavy, our bodies trembling, our hearts beating in sync.
“It’s done,” I whisper, dropping the dagger. My fingers are slick with his blood, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. I press my palm to the rune—warm, alive, claimed.
He rolls onto his side slowly, wincing as the fresh wound pulls. His gold eyes lock onto mine—burning, possessive, knowing. “You marked me,” he says, voice rough. “You’re mine now. Truly.”
“I was always yours,” I say, my voice breaking. “But now—” I press my palm to his chest, over the mating mark. “—you’re mine too.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just pulls me down, rolling me beneath him, his body a wall of heat, his chest against mine, his hardness pressing into my hip. My breath stops. My core clenches.
“You don’t get to say that,” he growls, his fangs grazing my neck. “Not unless you mean it.”
“I mean it,” I gasp. “I came here to kill you. And now—” My breath hitches. “—I can’t imagine a world without you.”
He pulls back, his eyes searching mine. “Say it again.”
“I love you,” I say, my voice breaking. “And I’m not afraid anymore.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just kisses me.
Not gentle.
Not sweet.
Violent.His mouth crashes into mine, his fangs scraping my lips, his tongue claiming me like he owns me. And I—
I kiss him back.
My hands fist in his hair, pulling him closer, my body arching into his, my core aching, needing. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
He tears at my robes, the fabric ripping as his hands glide over my skin. I don’t stop him. Don’t care. Let him ruin it. Let him burn it. Let him take everything.
Because I’m his.
And I want him to know it.
His hands move to my breasts, cupping them, his thumbs brushing my nipples. I gasp, my back arching, my legs trembling. The heat between my thighs is unbearable. The bond pulses—sharp, insistent—a pulse that syncs with my pulse.
“Kael—” I gasp.
“Say it,” he growls. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper. “Only yours. Always yours.”
He smiles—slow, dark, utterly triumphant. “Then let me in.”
He lifts me, his hands under my thighs, and carries me to the bed. He lays me down gently, then strips off his boots, his pants, his gloves. His body is a map of battles—scars from claws, burns from magic, the deep, jagged line across his shoulder blade. The runes tattooed there twist like serpents down his skin.
He climbs onto the bed, hovering over me. “This is your last chance,” he says. “Say no, and I’ll leave. Say yes—” He leans in, his breath hot against my ear. “—and I’ll make you forget your own name.”
I look up at him—gold eyes, sharp jaw, fangs just visible in the torchlight. The man who killed my mother. The monster who burned our temple. The king who took a blade, a poison, and ten years of my hatred for me.
And I realize—
I don’t want to win this war.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just stares at me—like I’ve given him the world.
Then he kisses me.
Not violent.
Not desperate.
Gentle.
His lips press against mine—soft, slow, claiming. His hands glide over my skin, pushing the robe aside, baring me to the heat, to the light, to him. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
And for the first time, I don’t fight it.
Because part of me—small, broken, awake—doesn’t want to.
Because part of me—
Wants to belong.
His mouth moves down my neck, to my collarbone, to my breasts. He takes my nipple into his mouth, sucking, licking, nipping. I cry out, my back arching, my hands fisting in the sheets. The heat between my thighs is unbearable. The bond pulses—stronger, deeper, hungrier.
“Kael—” I gasp. “Please—”
“Please what?” he murmurs, lifting his head. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want you inside me,” I whisper. “I want you to claim me. To make me yours.”
He smiles—slow, dark. “You’re already mine.”
But he doesn’t move.
Just watches me—gold eyes burning, possessive, knowing.
And then—
He moves lower.
His hands slide down my ribs, to my hips, to the apex of my thighs. He parts my folds, his fingers brushing my clit. I cry out, my back arching, my legs trembling.
“So wet,” he murmurs. “So ready. And you know what? So am I.”
He leans in, his breath hot against my core. “You don’t get to hide,” he growls. “You don’t get to run. You’re mine. And I’m going to taste you—right here, right now—whether you say it or not.”
And then—
He does.
His tongue slides through my folds, slow, deliberate, claiming. I cry out, my hands fisting in his hair, my legs trembling. He licks me—deep, slow, thorough—his tongue circling my clit, then dipping inside me. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on my shoulder glowing, the air crackling with magic.
“Kael—” I gasp. “I’m—”
“Let go,” he murmurs, his mouth still on me. “Let me feel you come.”
And I do.
My body arches, my core clenches, and I come—hard, deep, uncontrollable. My scream echoes in the room, the bond surging, magic flaring, the runes on the floor glowing. He doesn’t stop. Just keeps licking, keeps claiming, keeps making me his.
When I finally collapse, gasping, trembling, he lifts his head, his lips glistening, his eyes burning.
“You’re beautiful when you come,” he says, voice rough. “And you’re just getting started.”
He moves up, hovering over me, his hardness pressing against my thigh. I reach for him, my fingers wrapping around his cock. He growls—low, rough—and thrusts into my hand.
“You want me?” he asks.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Now. Please.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just positions himself at my entrance, his tip brushing my folds. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
And then—
He pushes in.
Slow.
Deep.
Full.
I gasp, my back arching, my hands fisting in the sheets. He’s thick. Long. perfect. He fills me completely, stretching me, claiming me, making me his in the most primal way.
“You feel that?” he growls, thrusting deeper. “That’s the bond. That’s us. That’s *forever*.”
I don’t answer.
Just wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing more.
He starts to move—slow at first, then faster, deeper, harder. Each thrust sends shockwaves through me, each pull making me ache for more. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
“You’re mine,” he growls, his fangs grazing my neck. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp. “Only yours. Always yours.”
He smiles—slow, dark. “And you’re never leaving me.”
“I don’t want to,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be anyone else.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just kisses me—deep, desperate, real—as he thrusts into me, harder, faster, deeper. The bond surges—stronger than ever, a flood of heat, of power, of *truth*. My magic flares—golden light erupting from my palms, my fae blood singing in my veins. The runes on the floor blaze. The hearth ignites. The windows rattle.
And then—
I come.
Hard.
Deep.
Unstoppable.
My scream echoes in the room, my body arching, my core clenching around him. He follows—growling, thrusting, filling me with his seed. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic.
And then—
Silence.
Just our breath, ragged and heavy, our bodies tangled, our hearts beating in sync.
He pulls out slowly, then rolls to his side, pulling me into his chest. His arms lock around me, his heartbeat steady against my ear. I press my palm to the mating mark on his chest. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, stroking my hair. “And I’m yours. And no one—no one—takes what’s ours.”
I don’t answer.
Just lean into him, my body trembling, my breath warm against his neck.
And I let myself believe—
Maybe I don’t have to win this war.
Maybe I don’t have to destroy him.
Maybe—
Maybe I can just *belong*.
I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now—
I think I love him.
And worse—
I don’t want to be anyone else.