I didn’t mean to kiss him back.
Not at first.
When his lips crashed against mine—hard, possessive, a claiming carved in fire and fury—I stiffened. My hands flew up, not to pull him closer, but to push. To fight. To remember who he was. Who I was. What this was supposed to be.
But the bond had other plans.
The second our mouths met, it roared to life—a full-body conflagration that ripped the breath from my lungs and turned my bones to liquid. Fire surged through my veins, white-hot and blinding, igniting every nerve, every cell, every buried desire I’d spent a lifetime burying. My knees buckled. My hands trembled. My body arched into his, instinctive, desperate, needing.
And I kissed him back.
Not gently. Not hesitantly. With teeth and tongue and a hunger so deep it felt like drowning. My fingers clawed at his shoulders, my nails biting into the hard muscle beneath his coat. He groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through my chest, through my core, through the very center of me. One hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat. The other wrapped around my waist, lifting me onto my toes, pressing me against him—hard, unyielding, male.
“Nova,” he growled against my lips, his voice rough, broken. “Gods, you taste like fire.”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Just bit down on his lower lip, drawing blood.
He didn’t flinch. Just moaned, deep and dark, and kissed me harder.
The world vanished. The Hall of Whispers. The mirrors. The Court. The lies. The vengeance. All of it burned away in the heat of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the way his body moved against mine like we were made to fit.
And we were.
Not by choice. Not by love.
By fate.
The bond pulsed between us, not as pain, not as punishment—but as truth. A current of raw, unfiltered need that stripped away every lie, every defense, every reason I’d come here to burn this place down.
Because right now, I didn’t want to burn the Court.
I wanted to burn him.
With my hands. My mouth. My body.
I wanted to mark him. Claim him. Make him mine.
My hands tore at his coat, shoving it off his shoulders. It fell to the floor in a whisper of shadow. His shirt followed—buttons popping, fabric tearing—as my fingers raked over his chest, tracing the scars, the ridges, the heat of him. He gasped, his head falling back, his throat exposed, veins pulsing with dark amber blood.
I didn’t hesitate.
I sank my teeth into the curve of his neck—hard, deep, breaking skin.
He cried out, a raw, guttural sound that sent a jolt of power through me. His arms locked around me, crushing me against him, his hips grinding against mine, his erection a thick, burning line against my stomach. Blood welled in my mouth—warm, metallic, his—and the bond exploded.
Light. Heat. A vision—us, tangled in shadows, his mouth on my breast, my nails in his back, screaming his name—
I tore my mouth away, gasping, blood smeared on my lips. My vision swam. My skin burned. My core throbbed, aching, empty.
He looked down at me—gold eyes molten, pupils blown wide, his chest rising and falling fast. Blood trickled from the wound on his neck, dark and glistening. He didn’t wipe it away. Just stared at me, his expression unreadable.
Then he smiled.
Not a smirk. Not a taunt.
A promise.
“You bit me,” he said, voice rough. “You drew blood.”
My breath came in shallow gasps. “So?”
“A blood exchange seals a temporary oath,” he said, stepping closer, backing me against the wall. “In Fae law, it’s binding. Even for enemies.”
My back hit the stone. Cold. Unyielding. Just like him.
“Then unbind it,” I challenged.
He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “I don’t want to.”
The bond flared—a deep, rolling wave of heat that made me gasp. My thighs clenched. My fingers curled into his arms. My body arched toward him, traitorous, needing.
“You hate me,” I whispered.
“I do,” he said, his lips brushing my jaw. “But I want you more.”
“This changes nothing.”
“It changes everything.”
His hand slid down my side, over the curve of my hip, then between my legs. I gasped, my head falling back, my breath catching as his fingers pressed against the thin fabric of my trousers, right over my core. He rubbed slow, deliberate circles, his touch maddening, perfect.
“You’re wet,” he murmured. “For me.”
“No,” I lied.
He chuckled, low and dark. “Don’t lie to me, Nova. The bond doesn’t lie. And right now, it’s screaming how much you want this.”
His fingers slipped beneath the waistband, then under the fabric, brushing over my bare skin. I cried out, my hips jerking forward, seeking more. His thumb found my clit—swollen, sensitive, aching—and circled once, twice, a slow, torturous rhythm.
“Kaelen—”
“Say it,” he demanded, his voice a growl. “Say you want me.”
I clenched my teeth, refusing.
He pressed harder, his fingers sliding through my folds, gathering my wetness, then circling my entrance. “Say it, or I stop.”
“You’re a monster,” I gasped.
“And you love it.”
His fingers plunged inside me—two, deep, stretching me, filling me. I cried out, my back arching, my hands flying to his shoulders, holding on as he fucked me with his hand, his thumb still circling my clit, his body caging me in, his scent wrapping around me like a claim.
“You feel so good,” he groaned. “So tight. So mine.”
“You don’t own me,” I panted.
“But you’re coming for me,” he said, his voice rough. “Look at me.”
I forced my eyes open.
His gold eyes were locked onto mine, unblinking, possessive. His jaw was clenched. His breath was ragged. His fingers moved faster, deeper, relentless.
“Come for me, Nova,” he demanded. “Scream my name.”
I shook my head, refusing.
He curled his fingers, hitting that spot deep inside me—gods—and I shattered.
My body convulsed, my thighs clamping around his hand, my back arching off the wall as pleasure ripped through me, white-hot and blinding. I cried out—his name, yes, Kaelen—and the bond exploded, a surge of magic so intense it made the mirrors shatter, their glass raining down like silver tears.
He didn’t stop.
Just held me through it, his fingers still moving, milking every last wave of pleasure from my body, his thumb pressing hard on my clit until I was sobbing, trembling, broken.
When I finally stilled, he slowly withdrew, his fingers glistening with my release. He brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean, his gold eyes never leaving mine.
“You taste like fire,” he said, voice rough. “And you’re mine.”
I glared at him, my breath still ragged, my body still humming. “I’ll never be yours.”
“You already are.”
He stepped back, his hand leaving my body, and the bond flared in protest—a deep, aching throb that made me gasp. My core tightened. My skin burned. My fingers curled into my palms.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
“The oath is sealed,” he said, wiping the blood from his neck with the back of his hand. “For now, you’re bound to me by blood, not just contract. And if you try to leave—”
“I’ll burn,” I finished.
“Or worse,” he said. “You’ll crave.”
I pushed off the wall, my legs unsteady. “You think this changes anything? You think I’ll stop hating you because you made me come?”
“No,” he said. “I think you’ll hate me more.”
“And you’ll love it.”
He smiled. Not a kind smile. Not a gentle one.
A predator’s smile.
“Yes,” he said. “I will.”
The doors burst open.
We both turned.
Lira stood in the doorway, her silver hair gleaming, her icy eyes wide with feigned shock. Behind her, a cluster of nobles—Fae, vampire, witch—gaped at the shattered mirrors, the torn clothes, the blood on Kaelen’s neck, the flush on my skin.
“Well,” she purred, stepping inside. “I see the honeymoon has begun.”
No one spoke.
The air was thick with magic, with tension, with the scent of sex and blood.
Lira’s gaze flickered to me—my heaving chest, my swollen lips, my trembling hands. Then to Kaelen—his bare chest, the bite mark on his neck, the possessive way he stood beside me.
Her smile turned sharp. “How… passionate.”
“Get out,” Kaelen said, voice low, dangerous.
She didn’t move. Just tilted her head, studying us. “The Court will want to know. A blood oath. A public display. The Shadow Queen marked by her king.”
“They’ll know soon enough,” I said, stepping forward. My voice was steady. My spine straight. My fire banked, but not extinguished. “Tell them whatever you want. But remember—” I stepped closer, my eyes locking onto hers “—he bit me back.”
I turned my head, exposing my neck.
And there it was.
A fresh bite mark—red, raw, his—just above my pulse.
Lira’s breath caught.
The nobles murmured.
Kaelen didn’t speak. Just stared at the mark, his gold eyes darkening, his jaw tightening.
He hadn’t done it.
I knew that.
The bond had. In the heat of my climax, in the surge of magic, it had branded me—claimed me—without his touch.
And now?
Now I wore his mark.
Not by force.
Not by contract.
By fire.
Lira’s smile faltered. Then vanished.
“You’re not the queen,” I said, stepping closer. “You’re nothing. A pawn. A liar. And if you ever come near him again—” I leaned in, my voice a blade “—I’ll make sure the next mark is on your throat.”
She didn’t answer.
Just turned and walked out, her heels clicking too loud on the marble.
The others followed, silent, their eyes flickering with fear, with awe, with something darker—desire.
When the doors closed, the silence returned.
Heavier now. Thicker.
I turned to Kaelen.
He was still staring at the bite mark on my neck, his expression unreadable. Then he reached out, his fingers brushing the skin just beside it—gentle, almost reverent.
“I didn’t do that,” he said.
“I know,” I whispered.
“The bond did.”
“Yes.”
He looked up at me, his gold eyes searching. “And you’re not afraid.”
I lifted my chin. “I came here to burn this court to the ground. A little blood won’t stop me.”
He stepped closer, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, his thumb brushing my pulse. “You want to hate me,” he said, voice low. “Fine. Hate me.”
“I do.”
“Then hate me with your body screaming my name.”
And with that, he kissed me again—hard, deep, a promise of fire and war.
And I let him.
Not because I’d surrendered.
Not because I’d forgotten my mother.
But because the fire wasn’t just in my mission anymore.
It was in my blood.
And if I was going to burn the Court—
I’d burn him first.