The Citadel held its breath.
After the ritual of severance—the failed attempt to break the bond—the air in the Council chamber had thickened with something heavier than magic. Not fear. Not awe. *Recognition*. The runes had shattered. The altar had exploded. I’d knelt in blood and pain, my moonfire erupting in defiance, and the bond had not only survived—it had *strengthened*. The Southern Clan envoys had collapsed, the Unseelie mark burning from their skin like poison. The vampires had stepped back. The Fae had bowed. And Vexis? He’d vanished, his final words slithering through the silence like a curse.
“You’re already dead.”
But I wasn’t.
I was more alive than I’d ever been.
And Kael—Kael had stood before them all and said it. Not as a claim. Not as a threat. As a *truth*.
“I love Opal with every breath in my body.”
Three words. Three words that had shattered the last of my defenses. Not because they were spoken. But because they were *meant*. I’d felt it in the bond—no manipulation, no dominance, no control. Just raw, unfiltered *emotion*. Love. Not as possession. Not as power. As surrender.
And now, as we stood on the obsidian balcony overlooking the Citadel’s inner courtyard, the Blood Moon waning to silver in the sky, I could feel the weight of what was coming.
“They’re gathering,” Kael said, his voice low. He stood beside me, his coat pulled tight against the night wind, his gold eyes scanning the courtyard below. The Northern Packs had arrived—dozens of them, their coats dark, their eyes burning with loyalty. The Southern Clans were absent. The vampires watched from the upper balconies, their presence a silent judgment. The Fae lingered in the shadows, their glamours shifting like smoke. And at the center of it all—
The dais.
A raised platform of black stone, etched with the sigil of the Blood Moon Bond. A public claiming ritual. A ceremonial marking. A declaration not just of our bond—but of our rule.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Not like this. Not in front of them all.”
He turned to me, his gaze sharp. “I do. The bond is no longer a secret. It’s no longer a curse. It’s *power*. And power must be claimed. Not hidden. Not denied. *Proclaimed*.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just talking about the bond.
He was talking about *us*.
“And if they see it as a threat?” I asked. “If they fear what we’ve become?”
“Then let them fear it,” he said, stepping closer. His hand found mine, warm, grounding. The bond flared, a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. “Fear is temporary. Truth is forever. And the truth is—we’re stronger together. Not because of the bond. But because of what we’ve chosen.”
My pulse spiked.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He *meant* it.
And that—
That was more dangerous than any lie.
Before I could respond, Silas appeared at the balcony entrance, his dark coat dusted with ash, his expression grim. “They’re ready,” he said. “The High Witch insists on overseeing the ritual. Says it must be done by the old laws.”
“Then let her,” Kael said, not looking away from me. “Let them all see. Let them all know.”
“And if Vexis returns?” Silas asked. “If he tries to disrupt it?”
“Then we burn him,” I said, stepping forward. “Again.”
Silas didn’t argue. Just nodded, his eyes flickering to Kael. “He’s not wrong, you know. Love is dangerous. Especially when it’s real.”
Kael didn’t answer. Just 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—
The gong sounded.
Deep. Resonant. Like a heartbeat. The signal. The ritual had begun.
Kael took my hand—just for a second—his fingers lacing with mine, warm, grounding. “Stay close,” he said. “No heroics.”
“I’m not your soldier,” I said, but there was no bite in it.
“No,” he said, stepping into me. “You’re my equal. My match. And if you die, I break.”
My breath hitched.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He *meant* it.
And that—
That was the most dangerous thing of all.
We descended the spiral staircase, our boots silent on the stone, the bond humming between us like a live wire. The whispers began the moment we stepped into the corridor—low, urgent, *hungry*. They’d seen the Council chamber. They’d seen the shattered altar. They’d seen Kael declare his love. And now, they wanted proof. Not just of the bond. Of *us*.
“They’re saying you seduced him,” a Northern Pack envoy murmured as we passed. His eyes flickered to my neck, to the glowing sigil. “That you used your magic to bind him.”
“Let them talk,” I said, lifting my chin. “I don’t care what they believe.”
“You should,” Kael said, his voice low. “Rumors have power. Especially when they’re laced with truth.”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
The truth was the most dangerous weapon of all.
We reached the courtyard as the first light of dawn began to bleed into the sky, painting the stone spires in blood. The dais stood at the center, surrounded by torches that flared to life as we approached. The High Witch waited—ancient, her eyes milky with age, her hands resting on a staff of blackened bone. Behind her, the Northern Packs stood in formation, their presence a wall of loyalty. The vampires watched from the upper balconies, their faces impassive. The Fae lingered in the shadows, their glamours shifting like smoke.
And then—
They saw us.
The crowd stilled. The whispers died. Every eye turned to the bond mark on my neck—glowing faintly, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. And then—to Kael. To his hand, still gripping mine. To the way he stood beside me, not in front, not behind, but *equal*.
“The ritual begins,” the High Witch declared, her voice echoing through the courtyard. “By the old laws, the Blood Moon Bond must be publicly claimed. The Alpha must mark his consort. The consort must accept the mark. And the bond—”
“Is already claimed,” I said, stepping forward. My voice was steady. Calm. “It was claimed in blood. In magic. In *fate*. You don’t need to witness it. You don’t need to validate it. It *is*.”
The High Witch didn’t flinch. Just turned her milky eyes to me. “The law demands it, witch. The bond must be sealed in flesh. In *truth*.”
“Then do it,” I said, lifting my chin. “But know this—if you try to break it again, I’ll burn your altar to ash.”
A ripple went through the crowd.
Kael stepped beside me, his presence a wall. “She’s right,” he said. “The bond is real. It’s unbreakable. But if the law demands a mark, then I’ll give it.”
The High Witch nodded. “Then kneel.”
I didn’t move.
Just stared at her. “I don’t kneel.”
“Then stand,” she said, her voice sharp. “But the ritual must be done.”
Kael didn’t hesitate.
He stepped in front of me, his gold eyes burning. “Opal,” he said, his voice low, meant only for me. “This isn’t about power. It’s about *truth*. And if you want the world to see it—if you want them to know what we are—then let me mark you. Not as a claim. Not as possession. As a *promise*.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He *meant* it.
And that—
That was the most dangerous thing of all.
“Then do it,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But not because the law demands it. Do it because *you* want to.”
He didn’t answer.
Just reached up and brushed his thumb along the bond mark on my neck.
Fire shot through me.
My breath hitched. My body arched toward him, betraying me completely. My magic surged, rising like a tide, drawn to his like it had its own will.
And then—
He kissed me.
Not in magic.
Not in fire.
Not in desperation.
But in *truth*.
His lips met mine—soft, certain, *his*—and the world stilled. No gasps. No whispers. Just silence. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic rose, not to burn, not to fight, but to *soothe*. To *heal*. To *claim*.
And when he finally broke the kiss, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm against my lips, he whispered—
“Stay with me.”
“Always,” I said, my voice trembling.
And for the first time, I believed it.
He didn’t hesitate.
He turned me, his hands gentle on my shoulders, and pressed a kiss to the nape of my neck. His breath was warm, his lips soft. And then—
He bit.
Not hard. Not cruel.
Slow. Deliberate. Not painful.
And I *moaned*.
Not in pain. Not in protest.
In *surrender*.
The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My magic erupted, not in fire, not in light, but in *pulse*. Silver energy curled from my skin, not burning, not scorching—but *revealing*. For a single, blinding second, the entire courtyard was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
The Northern Packs—normally a deep crimson—now glowed with a thread of silver, the mark of the bond, the mark of *us*. The vampires flinched, their eyes wide. The Fae stepped back, their glamours flickering. And the High Witch—
She didn’t move. Just smiled.
“The bond is sealed,” she said, her voice echoing through the courtyard. “The Alpha has marked his consort. The consort has accepted. And the Blood Moon Bond—”
“Is no longer a curse,” I said, stepping forward, my hand finding Kael’s. “It’s a *covenant*. A union of will, not force. And if any of you doubt it—”
I raised my hand.
And I burned.
Moonfire erupted from my fingertips—not in a wave, not in a blast—
But in a *pulse*.
It didn’t hurt anyone. Didn’t burn.
It *revealed*.
For a single, blinding second, the entire courtyard was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
The Southern Clan envoys—now free of the Unseelie mark—stood in the shadows, their eyes filled with shame. The vampires—Lyra’s absence like a wound—watched, their expressions unreadable. The Fae—Maeve among them—bowed their heads.
And the bond—
The bond was *gold*.
Not crimson. Not silver.
Gold.
Like Kael’s eyes. Like his blood. Like his soul.
“You see?” I said, my voice rising. “The bond is not in ink. Not in law. Not in fear. It’s in *truth*. And the truth is—we are not enemies. We are not divided. We are *united*. And if Vexis returns, if he tries to break us again—”
I turned to Kael.
And he turned to me.
And in that moment—
We didn’t need words.
“Then we burn him,” he said.
The courtyard erupted in cheers.
Not from fear.
Not from duty.
From *belief*.
The Northern Packs roared. The vampires nodded. The Fae bowed. And the High Witch—
She didn’t speak.
Just stepped back.
And in that silence—
I knew.
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about *truth*.
And I would burn the world to get her back.
But as I stood 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.
Opal’s Blood Moon
The Blood Moon rises over the Blackthorn Citadel, its crimson glow painting the stone spires in blood. Inside the Obsidian Chamber, Opal stands disguised in ceremonial robes, her pulse steady, her fingers brushing the hidden dagger at her thigh. She came to kill the Alpha. Not to be bound to him. But when the ritual begins—meant to renew the truce between species—her blood spills onto the altar… and his. The moment their essences mix, the runes ignite. A shockwave throws them together. His mouth crashes against hers—not in passion, but in agony. Their souls twist, fuse, burn. The council screams. The bond is forged. Now, Opal is no longer a spy. She is Kael’s Blood-Marked Consort—a political liability, a magical anomaly, and the only woman who can trigger his primal heat. He wants to control her. She wants to destroy him. But the bond punishes denial: fever, pain, hallucinations. And when the moon swells, their bodies betray them—pressed together in fevered dreams, his teeth grazing her throat, her nails scoring his back, neither knowing if it’s real or magic. A shadow looms—the real mastermind behind her mother’s death still walks free, manipulating both packs and courts. And Kael may be the only one strong enough to protect her… or the final obstacle to her revenge. From the first chapter, Opal’s goal is clear: break the bond, kill the Alpha, reclaim her birthright. But by Chapter 3, she’s forced into a public alliance. By Chapter 8, she’s fighting jealousy, a seductive vampire mistress, and her own body’s betrayal—when a midnight mission ends with her straddling Kael’s lap, breathless, his hand under her shirt, the door slamming shut behind them. Their love will be forged in fire, blood, and the heat of the Blood Moon.