The summons came at dawn.
A single scroll, delivered by a faceless vampire acolyte, sealed with the sigil of the Supernatural Council. No knock. No announcement. Just the parchment appearing on my desk like a curse, the wax still warm from the caster’s breath. I didn’t need to open it to know what it said.
They wanted a show.
After the scandal of the verification night—Onyx’s near-ruin, the shattered lamp, the whispers of what *almost* happened—the Council needed proof. Not just of the bond, but of our alliance. They needed spectacle. Unity. Flesh pressed to flesh in the name of peace.
And so, the Unity Trial.
I broke the seal, scanning the formal script. As I suspected: Onyx and I were to undergo the Rite of Confluence in the Obsidian Springs—a ritual bath meant to deepen the bond, to synchronize our magic, to prove we could stand together without tearing each other apart. It was ancient, archaic, and utterly inescapable. Refusal would be seen as defiance. A declaration of war.
And if we failed…
They’d separate us. Maybe even try to break the bond. And if the legends were true, that would kill us both.
I exhaled, slow and controlled, rolling the scroll between my fingers. The bond hummed beneath my skin, a low, constant pulse. I could feel her—distant, guarded, simmering. She was in her suite, moving with that quiet, lethal grace, pretending she didn’t know I was watching. Pretending she didn’t feel me.
She did.
Every breath she took echoed in my chest. Every flicker of emotion—anger, fear, that traitorous spark of desire—rippled through the tether between us. Last night in my study, when she kissed me—furious, desperate, *alive*—the bond had nearly exploded. Magic surged, the air crackling with crimson fire, her body arching into mine like she was starving. And when Silas interrupted, when we broke apart, her eyes had held something I hadn’t seen before.
Not hatred.
Not fear.
Hope.
And that terrified me more than her rage.
Because if she started to believe in *us*—if she let herself want this, want *me*—then she’d be vulnerable. And in this court, vulnerability was a death sentence.
I stood, tossing the scroll into the hearth. It caught fire instantly, the parchment curling into ash. Then I turned and strode toward the east wing, my boots silent on the stone. The guards snapped to attention as I passed, but I didn’t acknowledge them. My focus was ahead. On her.
The door to her suite opened before I reached it. She stood in the threshold, already dressed in the ceremonial robes the Council had sent—thin, translucent silk the color of dried blood, designed to leave nothing to the imagination. The fabric clung to her curves, the high slit revealing the long line of her thigh. Her silver hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders like moonlight. Her violet eyes locked onto mine, sharp and defiant.
“I got the invitation,” she said, voice cool. “No weapons. No magic. Just flesh and water. How *romantic*.”
I stepped inside, the door closing behind me. “It’s not optional.”
“Since when do I care about what’s optional?” She turned, walking toward the balcony. “They want a show? Fine. Let them watch. But don’t expect me to play the obedient mate.”
I followed, stopping just behind her. The bond flared, heat crawling up my spine. She could feel it too—her breath hitched, just slightly, her shoulders tensing. She hated how her body responded to me. Hated that every time I got close, her pulse jumped, her skin warmed, her core clenched.
Good.
Let her fight it.
Let her rage.
As long as she didn’t run.
“The springs are warded,” I said. “No one can harm you there. But the ritual… it will pull memories. Emotions. If you’re not careful, it’ll expose everything.”
She turned, eyes blazing. “You think I have something to hide?”
“Everyone has something to hide.” I stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat of her skin. “But the bond doesn’t lie. It’ll show them who we really are. Who we’ve been. What we’ve done.”
Her breath trembled. “And what if they see you for the monster you are?”
“Then let them.” I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her flinch was subtle, but I felt it. “I’ve spent centuries being what they needed. Cold. Ruthless. Unfeeling. But you… you make me feel like I’m burning alive.”
She stared at me, her chest rising and falling too fast. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
“Because it’s *weakness*,” she hissed. “And weakness gets you killed.”
“Then let me be weak,” I said, stepping even closer. “As long as it’s with you.”
The bond flared—hot, sudden, *searing*. Her magic surged in response, lighting the air between us with crimson sparks. She gasped, her body arching toward me, just slightly, just enough.
And then she turned away.
“Let’s get this over with,” she said, voice tight. “Before I do something stupid—like believe you.”
—
The Obsidian Springs lay beneath the heart of the court, a cavern of black stone and steam, lit by veins of glowing crimson crystal that pulsed like a heartbeat. Water flowed from the ceiling in thin, silken streams, pooling in a wide, circular basin carved from onyx. The air was thick with heat and the scent of sulfur and night-blooming jasmine—the latter, I knew, was *her*.
We weren’t alone.
Council delegates lined the perimeter, seated on stone benches, their faces hidden behind masks of silver and obsidian. Observers. Judges. Vultures. Silas stood at the entrance, arms crossed, his golden eyes scanning the room. He gave me a slight nod—*I’ve got your back*.
Good.
Because if this went wrong, it would go *very* wrong.
Onyx stepped forward, her bare feet silent on the wet stone. She didn’t look at the Council. Didn’t look at me. Just stared at the water, her expression unreadable.
“Remove your garments,” the Fae Envoy intoned. “Enter the springs. Let the bond be tested. Let the truth be revealed.”
Onyx didn’t hesitate.
Her fingers went to the tie at her neck. The silk slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet like blood. She stood naked before them—before *me*—her body a masterpiece of sharp angles and soft curves. Silver hair cascaded down her back. Violet eyes burned with defiance. The runes on her arms—hidden beneath illusion for so long—glowed faintly, reacting to the magic in the air.
And gods, she was beautiful.
Not just in the way of fae perfection. Not just in the way of witch’s power.
She was beautiful in the way of *survival*. Of fire and blood and unbroken will.
My fangs throbbed. My cock hardened, heavy and insistent against the fabric of my trousers. I wanted to touch her. To taste her. To claim her in front of them all.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I removed my coat. Then my shirt. My boots. My trousers. Until I stood bare before her, my body scarred from centuries of war, my skin pale as moonlight, my cock thick and aching.
Her breath caught.
Not from fear.
From *arousal.*
I saw it in the flush on her cheeks, the way her nipples tightened, the slight part of her lips. The bond flared, a wave of heat that made the air shimmer.
“Enter,” the Envoy commanded.
We stepped into the water together.
It was warm—too warm—like blood fresh from the vein. It rose to our waists, then our chests, the steam curling around us like a shroud. The runes on her arms flared brighter, reacting to the magic in the springs. Mine responded—black tattoos along my ribs, ancient vampire script, glowing with dark fire.
And then it began.
The bond surged, not as pain, but as *connection*. A thread of magic, hot and liquid, wound between us, pulling us closer. My hand found her waist instinctively, steadying her. She didn’t pull away.
“Breathe,” I murmured. “Let it happen.”
She nodded, her eyes closing. Then—
A flash.
*Fire. Screams. A child running through smoke, silver hair singed, violet eyes wide with terror. A woman’s voice—“Onyx, run!”—cut short by the sound of breaking bone.*
I gasped.
Her memory.
Her *pain.*
And then—
*A throne room. Cold eyes. A decision made in silence. “Let the lie stand. Take the Crown. Stabilize the Council.” A face—mine—watching from the shadows as flames consumed a house. A girl—her—collapsing in the dirt, sobbing over a body.*
She flinched.
“You saw it,” she whispered. “You saw her die.”
“I did,” I said, my voice rough. “And I’ve carried it every day since.”
The visions came faster now—fragments of our pasts, tangled together by the bond. Her hiding in the Wychwood Coven, learning to suppress her magic. Me ruling alone, cold, detached, believing I needed no one. Her vowing revenge. Me feeling the first flicker of something *more* the moment she stepped into my throne room.
And then—
*Her in the verification suite, back against the wall, my hand beneath her dress, her body arching into my touch. The taste of her on my fingers. The sound of her cry as she came. The way she whispered my name like a curse—and a prayer.*
Heat flooded me, thick and desperate. My cock throbbed. Her breath came faster. The water between us shimmered, charged with magic.
“Kaelen—”
“I know,” I said, pulling her closer. Our chests pressed together, skin to skin, heat to heat. “I feel it too.”
Her hands found my shoulders, fingers digging in. “This isn’t real. It’s the ritual. The bond—”
“It’s *us*,” I said, my voice low. “This is what we’ve been running from. This is what we are.”
She shook her head, but her body betrayed her, arching into mine. “I can’t— I can’t want you—”
“You do.” I slid my hands down her back, lower, cupping her ass, pulling her against me. My cock pressed into her stomach, hard and aching. “And I want you. Not because of the bond. Not because of duty. Because you’re *mine*.”
She gasped as I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist instinctively. The water lapped at our hips, steam curling around us. Her core pressed against my cock, hot and wet through the thin fabric of her panties.
“Say it,” I demanded, my voice rough. “Say you want me.”
“I hate you,” she whispered, but her hips rocked forward, just slightly.
“Liar.” I kissed her neck, licking a path to her ear. “You’re soaked. For *me*.”
She moaned, low and broken.
And then—
The magic exploded.
Crimson light burst from her skin, runes flaring across her arms, her chest, her thighs. The water ignited, glowing with pulsing red fire. The Council gasped. Silas stepped forward, but I raised a hand—*stay back.*
Onyx’s head fell back, her body trembling. “I can’t— it’s too much—”
“Let go,” I said, holding her tight. “I’ve got you.”
She arched, a cry tearing from her lips as the magic surged, lighting the cavern in waves of fire. And then, slowly, it faded.
The water stilled.
The runes dimmed.
But the bond—*gods*, the bond—was stronger than ever.
“You felt that,” I said, my voice rough with awe. “Your body knows me. Why do you fight it?”
She didn’t answer.
Just buried her face in my neck, her breath hot against my skin.
And for the first time, she didn’t pull away.