The cold was the first thing I felt when I woke.
Not the biting chill of the storm outside—but a deeper, creeping cold that seeped into my bones, as if the darkness itself had teeth. My breath came in shallow puffs, visible in the dim, flickering light of the dying fire. The cave was silent now, the wind muffled beneath layers of snow and stone. The collapse had sealed us in, cutting off the world, leaving only the echo of our breath and the slow, steady rhythm of a heartbeat that wasn’t mine.
Then I felt *him*.
Kael.
His arms were locked around me, one draped across my waist, the other beneath my head like a pillow. My back was pressed against his chest, his body a furnace against the ice. His coat—thick, heavy, lined with fur—was wrapped around me, the only reason I hadn’t frozen in my sleep. But it wasn’t the coat that made me burn.
It was *him*.
His heat. His scent—wild musk and iron, laced with something darker, something primal. His breath, warm against the nape of my neck, rising and falling in time with mine. The bond hummed between us, a low, insistent pulse that had deepened in the night, as if the nearness, the danger, the *intimacy* of our position had fed it, strengthened it, made it impossible to deny.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.
Just lay there, trapped in the circle of his arms, my mind racing. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not like this. Not pressed against him, half-naked beneath his coat, my skin still humming from the memory of his touch.
Because I *was* half-naked.
My leather tunic was gone. My boots. My outer robes. All stripped away in the night, replaced by only the thin underlayer of my shift—sleeveless, backless, barely covering me. I could feel the rough texture of the stone beneath me, the dampness of the cave floor, the warmth of his skin where it met mine.
And his hand—
His thumb was brushing the bare skin just above my hip, slow, unconscious, a rhythm so intimate it made my breath catch. Not a grope. Not a claim. But something worse.
Protection.
He hadn’t taken advantage. Hadn’t touched me with intent. He’d stripped me to warm me. To save me. And in doing so, he’d done the one thing I feared most.
He’d made me *trust* him.
My magic stirred beneath my skin, restless. The moonfire—the power that had awakened in the Council chamber—flickered like a candle in the wind, responding to him, to the bond, to the heat of his body. I could feel it rising, not in anger, not in defense, but in *recognition*. As if my magic knew what my mind refused to admit.
That I belonged here.
With him.
And that thought—
That thought was more dangerous than any blade.
I tried to move. Just an inch. Just enough to break the spell.
But the moment I shifted, his arm tightened around me.
“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. “You’re still cold.”
My breath caught.
He was awake.
And he wasn’t letting go.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “You can let me go.”
“No,” he said, not opening his eyes. “The bond keeps us warm. But not like this. Not if you pull away.”
“Then why did you take my clothes?” I asked, my pulse spiking.
“Because you were freezing,” he said, his breath warm against my neck. “Your lips were blue. Your magic was fading. If I hadn’t done it, you’d be dead.”
“And you undressed me?”
“I didn’t *undress* you,” he said, a hint of irritation in his voice. “I removed the wet layers. You were soaked from the snow. The bond wasn’t enough. You needed body heat. *My* body heat.”
“And Silas?” I asked. “Where was he? Why didn’t he help?”
“He left,” Kael said. “Said he’d return at dawn. That we didn’t need him.”
“And you believed him?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, finally opening his eyes. I could feel them on me, gold and burning, even though I didn’t turn. “The storm was closing in. The entrance collapsed. We were on our own.”
I swallowed hard.
He was right. I remembered now—the wind screaming, the torches flickering, the avalanche of snow and stone sealing us in. I’d been half-conscious, my magic drained, my body shutting down. And he’d done what he had to.
But that didn’t make it easier.
Because now, I was here. In his arms. Barely clothed. And the bond—oh, the bond—was flaring, a surge of heat that made my skin burn, my breath tremble, my magic rise in response.
“You should’ve woken me,” I said, my voice tight. “You should’ve asked.”
“And what would you have said?” he asked, his voice low. “No? That you’d rather freeze than let me touch you?”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
I would’ve said no. Would’ve fought him. Would’ve let pride kill me.
And he’d known it.
“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me,” I whispered.
“I don’t,” he said. “But the bond does. And right now, it’s keeping you alive.”
His thumb brushed my hip again, slow, deliberate. Not a caress. Not a tease.
But a *reminder*.
That I was his.
Not by choice.
Not by love.
But by blood, by magic, by the cruel hand of fate.
I closed my eyes, fighting the heat, the need, the *want* that pulsed beneath my skin. I had come here to kill him. To break the bond. To reclaim my mother’s soul.
And now?
Now I was waking up half-naked in his arms, my body betraying me, my magic singing for him, my heart—
No.
I wouldn’t think about my heart.
“We need to get out of here,” I said, forcing steel into my voice. “The storm’s passed. The others will be looking for us.”
“They’ll wait,” he said, not moving. “The entrance is buried. It’ll take time to clear.”
“Then we clear it now.”
“Not until you’re warm,” he said. “Not until the bond stabilizes.”
“And if I don’t want to wait?”
He exhaled, a low, frustrated sound. Then, slowly, he shifted—just enough to turn me in his arms, to pull me onto my back so I was facing him.
Our bodies were still pressed together, chest to chest, thigh to thigh. His eyes burned into mine, gold and unreadable. His hand still rested on my hip, his thumb brushing the same spot, sending jolts of heat through me.
“You think I wanted this?” he asked, his voice rough. “You think I *like* being trapped with you? That I enjoy watching you fight every instinct to stay alive? That I don’t feel it too—the bond pulling, twisting, demanding?”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just angry.
He was *frustrated*.
And that—
That was dangerous.
“Then let me go,” I whispered. “Break the bond. Help me find the truth. Set me free.”
“And if the truth destroys us?” he asked. “If it shatters the truce? If it gets you killed?”
“Then I’ll die knowing I wasn’t a liar,” I said. “Knowing I didn’t live in the dark.”
He stared at me, his gaze searching. Then, slowly, he reached up and brushed his thumb along the bond mark on my neck.
Fire shot through me.
A gasp tore from my lips. My body arched toward him, betraying me completely. My magic surged, rising like a tide, drawn to his like it had its own will.
“Don’t,” I whispered, but it wasn’t a refusal. It was a plea.
“Then tell me to stop,” he said, his voice rough. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you don’t want *me*.”
I opened my mouth.
But no words came.
Because I couldn’t say it.
Because I didn’t know if it was true.
And in that moment—
A crash.
The sound of splintering rock.
The entrance to the cave exploded inward, snow and debris raining down as a figure stepped through—tall, still, his dark coat dusted with ice.
Silas.
“I see you’re alive,” he said, his voice smooth as aged wine. “And… entangled.”
Kael didn’t move. Just kept his eyes on me, his hand still on my neck, his body still pressed against mine.
“We’re fine,” he said, voice low. “Just warming up.”
Silas’s dark eyes flickered between us, a knowing glint in their depths. “Of course. The bond. Such a… *intimate* necessity.”
I didn’t answer. Just pushed at Kael’s chest, forcing him to let me go. He did, reluctantly, his hand sliding from my neck, his body pulling back just enough to give me space.
I sat up, clutching his coat around me, my skin still burning where he’d touched me. The cold hit me like a blade, but I welcomed it. Needed it. Anything to cool the fire in my veins.
“The storm’s broken,” Silas said, stepping inside. “The Iron Fangs have retreated deeper into the north. But they left something behind.”
“What?” Kael asked, standing.
Silas held up a piece of parchment, singed at the edges, the ink smudged but still readable. “A message. From Lord Vexis.”
My breath stilled.
“What does it say?” I asked.
Silas’s eyes met mine. “*The witch’s mother is not dead. She is mine. And if you want her back, come to the heart of the north. Alone.*”
The words hit like a physical blow.
My mother.
Alive.
Trapped.
And Vexis had her.
“It’s a trap,” Kael said, his voice low. “He’s trying to divide us.”
“And if it’s not?” I asked, standing. “What if he’s telling the truth? What if she’s really alive?”
“Then it’s still a trap,” Kael said, stepping toward me. “He wants you. Wants to use you to break the bond. To destroy the truce.”
“And if I don’t go?” I demanded. “If I leave her there? Is that what you want? Another lie? Another sacrifice for your precious peace?”
He flinched.
And in that split second, I saw it—regret. Guilt. Something raw and human.
“I want you *alive*,” he said, his voice rough. “I want you *here*. Not in Vexis’s claws.”
“Then come with me,” I said. “Help me save her. Not for the truce. Not for politics. For *her*.”
He didn’t answer.
Just stared at me, his gold eyes burning.
And then—
A whisper.
Not from the cave.
Not from Silas.
From *inside* my mind.
“Opal.”
Soft. Familiar. Laced with sorrow.
“Don’t trust him. He knows more than he says.”
My breath caught.
Kael froze.
Because he’d heard it too.
Mother.
She was alive.
And she was warning me.
“We’re going,” I said, stepping past Kael. “Now.”
“You’re not going alone,” he said, grabbing my wrist.
“Then stop wasting time,” I said, pulling free. “Because if you’re coming, you’d better be ready to fight.”
He didn’t argue.
Just nodded.
And as we stepped out into the snow, the bond humming between us, I knew one thing.
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about *rescue*.
And I would burn the world to get her back.
But as I walked beside Kael, his hand brushing mine, his presence a shadow at my back—
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger wasn’t out there in the frozen wilds.
It was standing right beside me.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill him anymore.
Or keep him.