I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now I’m standing on the highest tower of the Iron Court, the wind howling through the black stone spires, the sky bleeding crimson with the false dawn of vampire magic. The Blood Moon is rising.
Not in the sky.
Not yet.
In me.
The bond hums beneath my skin like a storm held at bay, a live wire stretched taut, feeding me his strength, his rage, his love. But it’s not enough. The Blood Moon doesn’t care about love. It doesn’t care about truth. It doesn’t care about the war we’ve fought, the battles we’ve won, the lies we’ve burned.
It only cares about one thing.
Consummation.
Thirty days. That’s all we were given. Thirty days to either consummate the bond… or die.
We’ve survived assassins. We’ve shattered curses. We’ve faced the Council, the Fae High Court, the Ashen Circle. We’ve burned temples and rebuilt them. We’ve defied death, magic, fate.
And now—
It comes down to this.
The final night. The final test. The final choice.
And I still don’t know if I can do it.
Not because I don’t want him.
I do. Gods, I do. My body aches for him. My magic sings for him. My soul burns for him.
But this—
This isn’t just sex.
This is surrender. This is power given, not taken. This is the moment I stop being the woman who came to kill him… and become the woman who chose him.
And I’m terrified.
Because what if I’m wrong?
What if this is just another lie? Another trap? Another way for the world to take from me what I’ve finally learned to love?
Kael steps behind me, his presence a storm, his heat searing through the cold. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t touch me. Just stands close, his breath warm against my neck, his gold eyes burning in the dark.
“You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs.
“I’m thinking enough,” I say, not turning. “We’re out of time. The Blood Moon is rising. The bond is screaming. And if we don’t—”
“We will,” he says, stepping closer. “Not because we have to. But because we want to.”
I press two fingers to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed. The bond flares beneath my skin, golden light flickering across my collarbone, my pulse racing. My breath hitches. My thighs clench. My core aches.
“It’s not that simple,” I whisper. “This isn’t just about desire. It’s about power. About control. About who we are.”
“And who are we?” he asks, his voice rough, low, dangerous.
I turn to him.
Gold meets gold.
His eyes burn with something I’ve never seen before.
Need.
Not just for me.
For us.
“We’re not just mates,” I say. “We’re not just queen and king. We’re not just survivors. We’re… something else. Something new. Something no one expected.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just presses his forehead to mine, his breath hot against my lips. “Then let’s make it real,” he murmurs. “Not because the bond demands it. Not because the world is watching. But because I love you. Because I want you. Because I’ve been yours since the night I lit that pyre—and you’ve been mine since the moment you walked back into my life.”
Tears spill down my face.
Because he’s never said it like that.
Not in the heat of battle.
Not in the fury of passion.
But here.
Now.
With the Blood Moon rising and the world holding its breath.
And it’s more real than anything I’ve ever heard.
“I love you too,” I whisper. “And I don’t want to lose you.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just pulls me into his chest, his arms locking around me, his heartbeat steady against my ear. “Then we don’t,” he murmurs. “We face this. We burn through it. And we make them regret the day they tried to break us.”
I press my palm to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“Then let’s do it,” I say. “Not here. Not in the tower. Not in the fortress. But in the temple. Where it began. Where it ends.”
He studies me. Then nods. “Then we go.”
We leave the tower fast—silent, shadows against the stone. The fortress is stirring—Alphas patrolling the walls, 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.
Kael leads, his body in half-shift—claws retracted, fangs just visible, gold eyes glowing in the dark. I follow, my magic humming beneath my skin, my fae blood singing in my veins. I don’t need a weapon. I don’t need armor. I have something better.
Truth.
We reach the temple by midnight.
The white stone rises from the ash. Silver vines curl through the cracks. Floating orbs of soft light ignite in the air. The sigils on the floor pulse with power—fae magic, witchcraft, werewolf strength, vampire blood—all of it. It’s not just a temple.
It’s a kingdom.
And it’s waiting for us.
Kael steps inside, his presence a storm. “This place,” he says. “It feels like it knows us.”
“It does,” I say. “It remembers. It holds oaths. It carries truth.”
I walk to the center, my bare feet on the stone, my magic humming beneath my skin. The runes on the floor ignite—golden light erupting across the stone, the air crackling with magic. The wind howls. The ash rises. The broken arches tremble.
“This is where it ends,” I say. “Or where it begins.”
“Then let it begin,” Kael says, stepping beside me. “Let the bond be sealed. Let the world know. Let them see what happens when you try to break us.”
I press two fingers to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“I need your blood,” I say.
He doesn’t hesitate.
Just presses his palm to the mating mark on his chest. A drop of blood wells—dark, thick, laced with werewolf magic—and falls to the stone.
“And your voice,” I say. “Your vow. Your truth.”
He looks at me—gold eyes burning, fangs just visible in the torchlight. “I, Kael, Alpha of Alphas, Wolf King of the Iron Court, swear this: I am yours. Not because of magic. Not because of fate. But because I choose you. Because I want you. Because I love you. And no oath, no curse, no monster with a crown will ever take that from me.”
Tears spill down my face.
Because it’s not just a vow.
It’s a war cry.
I raise my hands.
“I, Morgana, daughter of the High Priestess, heir to nothing, queen of my own making, swear this: I am yours. Not because of a bond. Not because of a mark. But because I choose you. Because I want you. Because I love you. And no lie, no betrayal, no coward with a title will ever break that.”
The temple answers.
The runes on the floor ignite—golden light erupting across the stone, the air crackling with magic. The wind howls. The ash rises. The broken arches tremble, then lift, stone floating into the air like leaves on a storm. The magic crackles, the air hums, the ground trembles.
And then—
The Blood Moon rises.
Not in the sky.
But in us.
The bond—golden, fierce, unstoppable—surges through my veins, through his, through the temple, through the world. It’s not just magic.
It’s life.
Kael steps forward, his body a wall of heat, his hands warm on my waist. “No more running,” he says. “No more hiding. No more fear.”
“No,” I say, pressing my palm to his chest. “No more.”
He leans down, his breath hot against my lips. “Then let me love you,” he murmurs. “Let me claim you. Let me make you mine in every way that matters.”
My breath catches.
Because this isn’t just about survival.
This is about choice.
And I choose him.
“Yes,” I whisper.
And then—
He 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 coat, 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. The wind howls. The stone trembles. The temple hums with power.
He lifts me, his hands under my thighs, my legs wrapping around his waist. I don’t break the kiss. Don’t pull away. Just hold him tighter, my body a wall between him and the world.
He carries me to the center of the temple, to the heart of the runes, to the place where my mother stood, where she died, where she set me free.
And he lays me down.
Not on stone.
On magic.
The runes beneath me pulse—golden, warm, alive. They cradle me, support me, feed me. And above me—
Kael.
His gold eyes burn with something I’ve never seen before.
Worship.
Not just desire.
Not just need.
Worship.
“You’re not just my mate,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re my queen. My equal. My war. My peace. My everything.”
“And you’re mine,” I say, lifting my hand to his face. “Not because of a bond. Not because of a mark. But because I want you. Because I choose you. Because I love you.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just leans down and kisses me again.
And this time—
It’s different.
Slower.
Deeper.
Real.
His hands slide up my sides, under my shift, tracing the scars on my back, the ones from the Fae trials, from the witch’s training, from the years of running. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t hesitate. Just touches me—like I’m something sacred. Like I’m something worth fighting for.
“Who hurt you?” he murmurs against my skin.
“The world,” I whisper. “But you healed me.”
He stills.
Lifts his head.
Looks at me—gold eyes burning. “Then let me love you,” he says. “Let me make you whole.”
And then—
He does.
His hands are everywhere—my hips, my thighs, my stomach, my breasts. He undresses me slowly, deliberately, like each piece of clothing is a vow, a promise, a surrender. And when I’m bare—
He worships me.
His mouth on my neck. His fangs grazing my pulse. His hands on my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples until I gasp, until I arch, until I beg.
“Kael,” I whisper. “Please.”
“Not yet,” he growls. “I want to feel you. All of you. Every part of you.”
His hands slide down, over my stomach, between my thighs. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t force. Just touches me—slow, deliberate, reverent—until I’m trembling, until I’m slick, until I’m ready.
And then—
He enters me.
Not fast.
Not rough.
Slow.
Deep.
Complete.
I gasp—loud, sharp, real—as he fills me, as the bond flares, as the magic screams. The runes on the floor ignite—golden light erupting across the stone, the air crackling with power. The wind howls. The ash rises. The temple trembles.
And then—
We move.
Not just bodies.
Souls.
He thrusts—slow, deep, relentless—and I meet him, my hips rising, my legs tightening, my hands fisting in his coat. The bond flares—golden light erupting between us, the runes on our chests glowing, the air crackling with magic. The wind howls. The stone trembles. The temple hums with power.
“You’re mine,” he growls, his fangs grazing my neck.
“And you’re mine,” I whisper, arching into him. “Always.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just kisses me—hard, desperate, real—as the bond seals, as the Blood Moon rises, as the world burns.
And then—
I come.
Not from his touch.
Not from his thrust.
From the bond.
From the magic.
From the truth.
It rips through me—golden, fierce, unstoppable—and I scream, loud and sharp, as the runes on the floor ignite, as the temple trembles, as the sky splits open.
And then—
He follows.
His body tenses, his fangs sink into my neck—not to claim, not to dominate, but to join—and he roars, low and rough, as the bond seals, as the Blood Moon rises, as the world burns.
And then—
Silence.
Just the drip of water from the ceiling, the flicker of torchlight, the faint hum of the runes.
And then—
I feel it.
Not in my chest.
Not in my blood.
In my soul.
The bond—
It’s not just confirmed.
It’s complete.
Stronger.
Deeper.
Ours.
I press two fingers to the mating mark on my shoulder.
It pulses.
Warm.
Alive.
Claimed.
And then—
Kael is there.
His arms lock around me, his heat searing through the cold, his breath hot against my neck. “You did it,” he murmurs. “You gave yourself to me.”
“I gave myself to us,” I say, pressing my forehead to his. “To the truth. To the war. To the love.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just kisses me.
Not violent.
Not desperate.
Gentle.
Sweet.
Real.
And I know—
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 kill the Wolf King.
And now—
I think I love him.
And worse—
I don’t want to be anyone else.
Because I don’t want to be free.
Because I don’t want to be anything but his.