The fire had died to embers, but the heat between us still burned.
I lay curled against Kaelen’s chest, my fingers tracing the scars that mapped his ribs, the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath my palm. His arm was heavy around my waist, his hand warm on my hip, his scent—pine and iron and something darker, deeper—wrapped around me like a shroud. The bond pulsed beneath my skin, no longer a scream, no longer a war cry, but a slow, rhythmic throb that matched his heartbeat, that matched mine.
For the first time since the ritual, since the Blood Moon Festival, since the truth-ordeal and the burning of the Oath-Book—
I wasn’t fighting it.
I was feeling it.
Not just the magic. Not just the heat. But the truth of it—the way his body fit against mine, the way his breath hitched when I touched him, the way he’d looked at me when I said, It’s always been you. Like I was the only woman who’d ever seen him. Like I was the only one who could save him.
And maybe I could.
Maybe we could save each other.
I lifted my head, my dark eyes meeting his. He was awake—silver eyes burning, jaw tight, lips parted just enough to let out a slow, controlled breath. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched me, like he was memorizing every line of my face, every flicker of emotion in my eyes.
“You’re staring,” I whispered.
“I’ve earned it,” he said, voice rough. “After everything you’ve made me wait.”
I smirked. “You didn’t have to wait. You could’ve taken me at any time.”
“And if I had?” His hand slid up, fingers brushing the sigil on my collarbone. A jolt of sensation tore through me—fire and ice, pleasure and pain. My mouth fell open. My body arched toward him. “Would you have believed it? Would you have trusted it? Or would you have called it another lie, another trick, another move in the game?”
My breath stilled.
Because he was right.
I would’ve.
And I hated that he knew me so well.
“I don’t want to fight anymore,” I said, my voice breaking. “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to pretend I don’t want this.” I pressed my palm to his chest, feeling his heart beneath my fingers. “I just want to be.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me closer, his mouth crashing against mine in a kiss that was fire and frost and everything in between. His hands slid down, fingers tracing the curve of my spine, the swell of my ass, then gripping, pulling me on top of him. I gasped, my breath coming faster, my skin flushing. The bond flared—hot, electric, unstoppable. My core ached. My thighs clenched.
And then—
A knock.
Hard. Insistent. Wrong.
We broke apart, breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together. The bond pulsed between us—hot, alive, unbroken. But something else pulsed too—something colder. Something darker.
“Enter,” Kaelen said, voice sharp.
The door opened.
Silas stood there, his expression unreadable, his eyes flicking between us—my bare skin, my braid loose, my lips swollen from kissing. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. Just stepped inside, holding a sealed scroll in trembling hands.
“From the archives,” he said, voice low. “It was hidden. Buried beneath the old tribunal records. No one was supposed to find it.”
My breath stilled.
Kaelen sat up slowly, pulling me with him, his arm still around my waist. “What is it?”
“A report,” Silas said. “From the night of Mira’s execution.”
My chest tightened.
He didn’t hand it to Kaelen.
He handed it to me.
I took it, my fingers trembling, the wax seal cold beneath my thumb. I broke it slowly, unrolling the parchment with careful hands. The ink was faded, the script sharp, precise—someone who didn’t want to be questioned.
And then—
I read it.
Not the falsified verdict. Not the lie of a unanimous decision.
But the truth.
The margin note.
Vire, K. — Dissent. Motion for mercy. Overruled.
And beneath it—
Alpha Kaelen Vire arrived at holding cell 23 at 21:47. Requested private audience with prisoner. Denied by High Chancellor Mordrek. Left without resistance.
My breath stilled.
“He was there,” I whispered. “He tried to see her.”
Silas nodded. “And the next entry—”
I scanned down.
Prisoner Mira of the Ember Circle executed at 22:15. No final words. No last rites. No witness.
“He was there,” I said again, my voice breaking. “He could’ve saved her. He could’ve—”
“He couldn’t,” Silas said. “Mordrek had already sealed the chamber. The guards were under oath. No one could enter. No one could speak. And when the fire rose—” He hesitated. “—he was on the other side of the door.”
My chest tightened.
“And you knew,” I said, turning to Kaelen. “You knew he was there. You knew he tried to see her. And you didn’t tell me.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away. “I did.”
“Why?” My voice cracked. “Why keep it from me? Why let me believe he let her die?”
“Because I was waiting,” he said, voice low. “Waiting for you to see me as more than the man who signed her death warrant. Waiting for you to see me as the man who tried to save her. Waiting for you to trust me.”
“And now?” I snapped, standing, pulling the blanket around me. “Now that I do? Now that I’ve let you touch me, let you in—now you give me this?”
“I didn’t give it to you,” he said, rising slowly. “Silas did.”
“And you didn’t stop him.”
“No.” He stepped closer, his presence a wall of cold and heat. “Because you deserved the truth.”
“I deserved it before!” I shouted, the fire in my veins flaring. “I deserved it before I kissed you! Before I let you touch me! Before I started believing—” My voice broke. “—that maybe you weren’t the monster I thought you were.”
He didn’t answer.
Just stood there, his silver eyes burning, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides. Frost crept across the floor, spreading toward me like a living thing.
And then—
It hit me.
Not the bond.
Not the magic.
But the betrayal.
Not just that he’d known.
But that he’d let me love him first.
“You used me,” I said, voice low, dangerous. “You let me fall for you so you wouldn’t have to face the truth. So I’d forgive you. So I’d choose you.”
“No,” he said, stepping forward. “I fell for you. I didn’t plan this. I didn’t want this. But I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop you.”
“And my mother?” I asked, my voice breaking. “Did you love her too? Was I just the daughter of the woman you couldn’t save? Was that why you wanted me? To fix what you lost?”
His breath caught.
And then—
He stepped back.
“You don’t believe that,” he said, voice rough.
“I don’t know what to believe!” I shouted, the fire erupting—white-hot, blinding—from my palms. The blanket fell. The air filled with the scent of molten stone and ash. “You lied to me! You let me believe he let her die! You let me hate you—” My voice cracked. “—so I wouldn’t see how much I wanted you.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just stood there, his coat swirling behind him like a storm, his silver eyes burning. “And if I had told you? If I had said, I tried to save her, but I was too late—would you have believed me? Or would you have called it another lie, another trick, another move in the game?”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
I would’ve.
And that made it worse.
“You think I don’t carry it?” he asked, stepping closer, his voice dropping. “The guilt? The grief? The way I loved her—and couldn’t save her? You think I don’t see her in you? The fire. The defiance. The way you look at me like I’m the only one who’s ever seen you?” His hand rose, fingers brushing the sigil on my collarbone. A jolt of sensation tore through me—fire and ice, pleasure and pain. My mouth fell open. My body arched toward him. “I didn’t fall for you because of her. I fell for you because of you. Because you’re stronger than I’ve ever been. Because you’re braver. Because you’re mine.”
“And if I’m not?” I whispered. “If I don’t want to be?”
“Then you’re a liar,” he said, stepping back. “And the bond knows it.”
My breath stilled.
And then—
I turned.
Not to the door.
Not to Silas.
But to the hearth.
I raised my hand.
And I burned it.
Fire roared from my palm, bright and fierce, consuming the bed, the furs, the weapons on the wall. The air filled with the scent of molten iron and ash. The runes on the floor flared, sending pulses of energy through the stone.
“Opal,” Kaelen said, voice low.
“Don’t,” I said, not looking at him. “Don’t touch me. Don’t speak to me. Don’t even breathe near me.”
And then—
I walked out.
Barefoot. Naked. My skin flushed, my hair loose, my eyes blazing with fire and fury. I didn’t care who saw me. Didn’t care what they whispered. Let them. Let them know.
Let them know I’d been used.
Let them know I’d been played.
Let them know I’d been broken.
I reached my chambers, the door slamming shut behind me. I didn’t light the candles. Didn’t call for a servant. Just stood there, my hands fisted at my sides, my breath coming slow, controlled.
And then—
I screamed.
Not loud. Not wild.
But deep. Raw. Unfiltered.
The fire erupted—white-hot, blinding—through the room. The mirror shattered. The wardrobe cracked. The bed burst into flames. The sigil on my collarbone burned, a brand of fire and ice. My skin flushed. My nipples hardened. My core ached.
And then—
I collapsed.
Not to the floor.
But to the bed.
The only thing left untouched.
I buried my face in the pillow, my body trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The bond pulsed beneath my skin—hot, alive, unbroken. I could still feel him. Still feel his heat. Still feel his breath on my neck, his hands on my skin, his mouth on mine.
And worse—
I could still want him.
I hated that.
I hated that even now, even after the lie, even after the betrayal, even after the fire that had burned in my veins for twelve years—
I still wanted him.
My fingers curled into fists. I could still feel his hands on my waist, his mouth on my neck, the way my body had arched into his like it was starved for him. The way I’d moaned—low, broken, unfiltered—and how he’d swallowed the sound like it was his to keep.
I hated that I wanted it.
I hated that I wanted him.
And I hated most of all that the bond—the cursed, relentless thing—hadn’t just connected us.
It had changed us.
Before, it had been magic. Fate. A leash disguised as destiny.
Now?
Now it was something deeper. Something that lived in the space between breaths, in the heat that flared when our eyes met, in the way my body remembered his touch even when he wasn’t near.
It was no longer just a chain.
It was a vow.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to break it.
A knock.
Soft. Hesitant. Wrong.
“Go away,” I said, voice raw.
“It’s Silas,” came the reply.
I didn’t answer.
But the door opened anyway.
He stepped inside, his expression unreadable, his eyes scanning the room—the flames, the ash, the way I lay curled on the bed, my skin flushed, my hair loose, my eyes wet with tears.
“You know he didn’t do it to hurt you,” he said, stopping beside the bed.
“He did it to win,” I said, not looking at him. “To make me choose him. To make me believe in him.”
“And if he hadn’t?” Silas asked, crossing his arms. “If he’d told you the truth the second you arrived? What would you have done?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I knew.
I would’ve burned him.
“He’s not your enemy, Opal,” Silas said, voice low. “He’s your pack. Your mate. The only man who’s ever looked at you and seen you—not the avenger, not the outcast, not the witch with fire in her veins. Just… you.”
“And my mother?” I whispered. “Did he love her?”
“Yes,” Silas said. “But not like he loves you. With her, it was duty. Protection. Guilt. With you—” He hesitated. “—it’s fire. It’s need. It’s everything.”
My breath stilled.
“And if I destroy the bond?” I asked. “If I burn it all down?”
“Then you’ll lose him,” Silas said. “But you’ll still lose yourself.”
I didn’t answer.
Just turned my face into the pillow, my body trembling.
And then—
He left.
The door closed softly behind him.
And I was alone.
But not really.
Because the bond—this cursed, relentless, beautiful bond—was still there.
Still screaming.
Still burning.
I don’t know how long I lay there. Hours. Maybe days. The fire in the hearth died. The flames in the room burned out. The ash settled like snow.
And then—
Footsteps.
Slow. Deliberate.
Stopping at the door.
I didn’t look up.
Didn’t move.
But I knew.
It was him.
“Opal,” Kaelen said, voice low, rough.
“I said go away,” I whispered.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m yours.”
I didn’t answer.
Just turned my face into the pillow, my body trembling.
And then—
He was there.
Not on the bed.
Not beside me.
But on his knees.
At the foot of it.
His coat dusted with ash, his silver eyes burning, his hands clenched at his sides. Frost crept across the floor, spreading toward me like a living thing.
“I didn’t tell you,” he said, voice breaking. “Not because I wanted to win. Not because I wanted you to forgive me. But because I was afraid.”
My breath stilled.
“Afraid that if you knew the truth—that I was there, that I tried to see her, that I failed you both—you’d see me as weak. As broken. As the man who couldn’t save the woman he loved.” His voice cracked. “And I couldn’t lose you too.”
My chest tightened.
“You think I don’t carry it?” he asked, lifting his head. “The guilt? The grief? The way I loved her—and couldn’t save her? You think I don’t see her in you? The fire. The defiance. The way you look at me like I’m the only one who’s ever seen you?” His hand rose, fingers brushing the sigil on my collarbone. A jolt of sensation tore through me—fire and ice, pleasure and pain. My mouth fell open. My body arched toward him. “I didn’t fall for you because of her. I fell for you because of you. Because you’re stronger than I’ve ever been. Because you’re braver. Because you’re mine.”
“And if I’m not?” I whispered.
“Then you’re a liar,” he said. “And the bond knows it.”
My breath stilled.
And then—
I reached for him.
Not to push him away.
Not to burn him.
But to pull him close.
My fingers tangled in his hair, my body arching toward him, my mouth crashing against his in a kiss that was fire and frost and everything in between. The bond exploded—white-hot, electric, unstoppable. My skin flushed. My nipples hardened. My core ached.
And then—
I broke the kiss.
Just enough to breathe. Just enough to look at him.
“You don’t get to decide when I’m ready,” I said, voice low, dangerous. “You don’t get to control me. You don’t get to own me.”
“I don’t want to,” he said, his breath hot against my lips. “I want to fight with you. To stand beside you. To burn the world with you.”
My breath stilled.
And then—
I kissed him again.
Hard. Deep. Claiming.
Because he was right.
I did want him.
Not just his power. Not just his protection.
But him.
And I wasn’t going to let him go.
Not now.
Not ever.
The bond flared—hot, alive, unbroken.
And for the first time since the ritual—
I didn’t fight it.
I just let it burn.