The throne room was silent.
Not the quiet of reverence. Not the hush of respect.
The silence of *witness.*
The guards stood frozen at the entrance, their weapons half-drawn, their golden eyes wide with shock. Behind them, whispers slithered through the corridor like serpents—voices of courtiers, servants, spies. Word would spread fast. *The king and his fated mate—caught in a fevered embrace. Lips swollen. Clothes torn. Magic flaring like a storm.*
Scandal.
Power.
Truth.
All of it, laid bare.
I didn’t let go of her.
Onyx still clung to me, her fingers knotted in my coat, her breath coming in ragged gasps against my lips. Her violet eyes were wild, unfocused, pupils blown wide with the storm of emotion—rage, betrayal, *need.* The bond screamed between us, not just as magic, but as something deeper. Something *alive.*
She had kissed me.
Not in surrender.
Not in love.
In *war.*
And gods help me, I had never wanted anything more.
“Leave,” I said, my voice low, rough, carrying the weight of command.
The guards hesitated.
“Now,” I growled, fangs lengthening, shadows coiling at my feet.
They obeyed instantly, retreating, the door closing with a soft, final click.
But the damage was done.
Onyx pulled back, her chest heaving, her hands trembling as she released me. She wouldn’t look at me. Just stared at the floor, at the scattered surveillance images, at the proof her uncle had forged to break us.
“You let me believe you were innocent,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You let me *want* you.”
“And you let me touch you,” I said, stepping closer. “You let me kiss you. You let me *in*.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did,” I said, cupping her face, forcing her to meet my gaze. “You kissed me back. Not because of the bond. Not because of duty. Because you *needed* it. Because you’re as lost in this as I am.”
She flinched.
But she didn’t pull away.
And then—
It hit her.
A gasp tore from her lips as her knees buckled. I caught her before she fell, my arms wrapping around her waist, holding her upright. Her skin was burning—too hot, too fast. Her breath came in shallow, panicked bursts. The runes on her arms flared crimson, pulsing like a heartbeat gone wild.
“Kaelen—”
“I know,” I said, my voice tight. “It’s starting.”
Bond fever.
The final stage of the Eternal Vow. Not a myth. Not a legend.
Real. Visceral. *Unstoppable.*
When fated mates denied the bond too long, when they fought it, resisted it, the magic turned on them. It didn’t just demand union—it *consumed.* It burned through the body, the mind, the soul, until the only relief was touch. Until the only escape was surrender.
And now, it had her.
“It hurts,” she gasped, her fingers digging into my arms. “It’s like fire—inside my veins—”
“I know,” I said, lifting her into my arms. She was light, trembling, her body pressed against mine, her heat searing through my clothes. “I can feel it too.”
And I did.
The fever had been building in me for days—since the Unity Trial, since the library, since she’d kissed me in front of the Council. A low, constant thrum beneath my skin, a hunger that no amount of control could suppress. But now, it surged—hot, sudden, *unbearable.* My fangs throbbed. My cock ached, heavy and insistent. My vision blurred at the edges, the world narrowing to *her.* To her scent—jasmine and iron, wild and sweet. To her pulse, racing beneath my fingertips. To the way her body arched into me, even as she tried to fight it.
“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Not like this. Not because we’re being forced—”
“We don’t have a choice,” I said, carrying her toward the private chambers. “If we don’t consummate the bond… we’ll die. Or worse—we’ll go mad. And when that happens, you’ll destroy everything in your path. Including yourself.”
She shook her head, tears burning in her eyes. “I can’t— I can’t give in—”
“You already have,” I said, kicking open the door to my suite. “The moment you touched me. The moment your magic screamed for mine. The moment you kissed me and called me yours.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did,” I said, laying her on the bed. “And I’m not letting you die for pride.”
She tried to sit up, but the fever took her again—a wave of heat, of pain, of pure, unfiltered *need.* She cried out, curling into herself, her hands clutching her stomach. I stripped off my coat, my boots, my shirt, until I was bare from the waist up, my scars on display, my body taut with tension.
“Let me help you,” I said, climbing onto the bed beside her.
“Don’t touch me,” she gasped. “I don’t want—”
“Liar,” I said, my hand sliding to her waist, pulling her against me. “You want me. You’ve wanted me since the throne room. Since the first time you felt the bond. Since the first time I touched you.”
Her breath hitched.
“You hate me,” she whispered.
“And yet, here you are,” I said, my lips brushing her ear. “In my bed. In my arms. Your body *burning* for me.”
She shivered.
Not from fear.
From *arousal.*
Her magic flared, lighting the air between us with crimson sparks. The runes on her arms glowed, reacting to my touch, to my presence, to the truth she couldn’t deny.
I was hers.
Not by choice.
Not by will.
By fate.
My hand slid beneath her dress, palm pressing against the heat between her thighs. She gasped, her body arching into my touch, betraying her. The ache was unbearable—deep, pulsing, desperate. Her core tightened, wetness soaking through her panties. I could *taste* her need, thick and sweet in the air.
“You’re soaked,” I murmured. “For me. Even now.”
“Stop,” she whispered, but it came out like a plea.
“No.” My voice was a growl. “You don’t want me to stop. You want me to touch you. To taste you. To make you come so hard you forget your own name.”
Her hips rocked forward, just slightly, just enough.
“Say it,” I demanded. “Say you want me.”
“I hate you,” she gasped.
“Liar.” I pressed harder, and she whimpered. “You don’t hate me. You’re afraid of how much you *need* me.”
The bond flared again, hotter this time, a wave of magic that made my vision blur. My magic surged in response, black tattoos along my ribs glowing with dark fire. Her hands fisted in my hair, holding on, grounding herself.
“Kaelen—”
“I know,” I said, my lips brushing her neck. “I feel it too.”
And then I bit her.
Not deep. Not to claim.
Just enough to draw blood.
Her cry was sharp, sweet, *perfect.* The scent of her filled my senses—iron and jasmine and something wilder, deeper. My cock throbbed, aching to be inside her. But I didn’t rush. Didn’t force. Just held her, let her feel the truth in my touch, in my bite, in the way my body responded to hers.
“You’re mine,” I whispered against her skin. “And I’m not letting you go.”
She trembled, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “I can’t— I can’t do this—”
“You already are,” I said, my fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her panties, skin meeting skin. “And when we’re done, when the bond is sealed, when you’re marked as mine—you’ll know the truth.”
“What truth?” she gasped.
“That you don’t hate me,” I said, curling my fingers, pressing against that spot deep inside her. “You love me. And you always have.”
She cried out, her body arching, her magic exploding in a burst of crimson light that shattered the nearest lamp.
I caught her as she collapsed, holding her against my chest, my breath ragged, my fingers still buried inside her.
“You see?” I whispered, nipping at her ear. “You can’t fight it. You’re *mine*.”
She didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because as the aftershocks trembled through her, one truth burned brighter than all the others:
She was mine.
Not by force.
Not by magic.
By choice.
And that terrified her more than anything.
—
The fever didn’t stop.
If anything, it worsened.
We lay tangled on the bed, her body still trembling, her breath still coming too fast. The bond pulsed between us, a living thing, feeding on our proximity, our touch, our *need.* I could feel her—every flicker of emotion, every spike of desire, every whisper of fear—like it was my own.
And I could feel myself losing control.
Centuries of discipline. Centuries of detachment. All of it, crumbling beneath the weight of this—this *woman* who had walked into my court and set my blood on fire.
She shifted, her leg brushing my cock, and I groaned, my hips jerking involuntarily. She froze, her breath catching.
“You’re still—”
“Hard?” I said, my voice rough. “For you? Always.”
She turned her head, her violet eyes searching mine. “You don’t have to do this. You could let me go. Let me die.”
“And live without you?” I said, cupping her face. “I’d rather burn the world down.”
“Why?” she whispered. “Why me? Why now?”
“Because you’re the only one who’s ever made me feel *alive*,” I said. “The only one who’s ever looked at me and seen *me*, not the king, not the monster, not the thief. Just… *me*.”
Her breath trembled.
“And if I don’t want this?” she asked. “If I don’t want *you*?”
“You do,” I said, my thumb brushing her lower lip. “You just don’t know it yet.”
She closed her eyes.
And then—
She kissed me.
Not in anger.
Not in war.
But in *surrender.*
Soft. Slow. Aching.
Her lips parted beneath mine, her tongue brushing mine, tentative, searching. My hands tangled in her hair, holding her close, deepening the kiss. Her magic flared, lighting the air between us with crimson fire. The runes on her arms glowed, reacting to the shift in her heart, in her soul.
She was choosing me.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of the fever.
But because she *wanted* to.
I broke the kiss, resting my forehead against hers. “You don’t have to say it,” I said. “I can feel it.”
“Feel what?” she whispered.
“That you love me,” I said. “Even if you won’t admit it.”
She didn’t deny it.
Just buried her face in my neck, her breath hot against my skin.
And for the first time, she didn’t pull away.
—
The fever reached its peak at midnight.
She woke screaming.
Not from pain.
From *need.*
Her body arched off the bed, her hands clawing at the sheets, her magic exploding in a burst of crimson fire that lit the room like a funeral pyre. I was on her in an instant, pinning her wrists, holding her down, my voice low, steady.
“Look at me,” I said. “Onyx. *Look at me.*”
Her violet eyes snapped open, wild, unfocused. “It’s too much— I can’t—”
“You can,” I said, my lips brushing hers. “You *will.*”
And then I did the one thing I’d been holding back.
I stripped her.
Not gently. Not slowly.
In one brutal motion, I tore her dress down the middle, the fabric splitting like paper. Her breath caught, her body arching, her nipples hardening beneath my gaze. I didn’t wait. Didn’t ask. Just lowered my mouth to her breast, sucking, biting, marking her as mine.
She cried out, her hips jerking, her magic flaring. “Kaelen—”
“Say it,” I growled, my hand sliding between her thighs. “Say you want me.”
“I do,” she gasped. “*Gods*, I do.”
And then I was inside her.
No hesitation. No delay.
>Just thrust, deep and hard, filling her in one stroke. She screamed, her body clenching around me, her magic exploding in a wave of crimson fire that shattered every window in the suite.“You’re mine,” I growled, thrusting again, deeper, faster. “Say it.”
“Yours,” she sobbed. “I’m yours.”
And as the bond sealed, as our magic merged, as our souls screamed in unison—
I knew.
Not just that she was mine.
But that I was hers.
Completely.
Irrevocably.
Forever.
—
When it was over, she lay in my arms, her body limp, her breath slow and even. The fever had broken. The bond was stable. The pain was gone.
But the truth remained.
I brushed a strand of silver hair from her face, my thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. “We have to do it,” I said, my voice low. “Or we both die screaming.”
She didn’t answer.
Just turned her face into my palm, her lips brushing my skin.
And I knew.
She already had.