The night after the public claiming was not one of celebration.
There were no feasts in the great hall. No toasts raised in silver goblets. No revelry beneath the waning Blood Moon. The Citadel stood in hushed reverence, its torches burning low, its corridors empty of whispers. The bond had been sealed. The mark had been made. And the world had seen it—Kael biting into the nape of my neck with slow, deliberate reverence, not in dominance, but in surrender. I’d moaned. Not in pain. Not in protest. In *surrender*. And when the moonfire pulsed through me, when the bond flared gold instead of crimson, the courtyard had erupted—not in fear, but in belief.
But belief didn’t heal the ache in my chest.
Didn’t quiet the voice in my head that still whispered: You were supposed to kill him.
I stood at the edge of the private terrace, the cold stone biting through my boots, the wind tugging at my hair. The Blood Moon hung low in the sky, its silver glow painting the mountains in ghostly light. The bond hummed beneath my skin, warm, alive, *real*. It wasn’t just magic anymore. It was truth. A thread of fire that tied me not to a monster, but to a man who had stood before the entire Council and said he loved me.
And I had believed him.
That was the most dangerous part.
Behind me, the door to our chambers clicked open. I didn’t turn. Didn’t need to. I knew his presence before he spoke. The bond flared—a low, insistent pulse that had deepened since the cave, since the void, since the kiss in the healing chamber. It wasn’t just magic. It wasn’t just fate. It was *choice*. And every time he stepped closer, every time his breath warmed the back of my neck, I felt it.
“You’re not sleeping,” Kael said, his voice rough.
“I can’t,” I said, still not looking at him. “Too much has changed.”
He stepped beside me, his coat pulled tight against the wind, his gold eyes scanning the horizon. He wasn’t in half-shift. Wasn’t armored. Just… present. Human, in a way I’d never seen him before.
“You could have refused the ritual,” he said. “You didn’t have to let me mark you.”
“And if I had?” I asked, turning to face him. “If I’d walked away? Would you have followed?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He *meant* it.
And that—
That was more dangerous than any lie.
“You said it was a promise,” I said, my voice low. “Not a claim. Not possession. A *promise*.”
“And it is,” 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. “I promise to stand with you. To fight for you. To protect you. Not because the bond demands it. Because *I* do.”
My pulse spiked.
He wasn’t just talking about the bond.
He was talking about *us*.
“And if I asked you to break it?” I asked. “If I said I wanted to be free?”
He didn’t flinch. Just stared at me, his gaze searching. “Then I’d ask you why. And if the reason wasn’t strong enough, I’d fight to keep you.”
“That’s not freedom,” I said, pulling my hand from his. “That’s imprisonment.”
“No,” he said, stepping into me. “Imprisonment is silence. Is fear. Is pretending you don’t want me. Freedom is *this*.” 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—
The wind died.
The torches flickered.
And the bond—
It *pulled*.
Not in pain. Not in fire.
But in *need*.
It wasn’t the heat cycle. Not the moon’s pull. Not magic.
It was *us*.
He didn’t move. Just stood there, his eyes burning into mine, his breath warm against my lips. And then—
I kissed him.
Not in magic.
Not in fire.
Not in desperation.
But in *truth*.
My hands found his face, my fingers brushing his jaw, his scars, the rough edge of his stubble. His breath hitched. His body stilled. And then—
He kissed me back.
Slow. Soft. Deep.
No force. No magic. No bond.
Just *need*.
His hands found my waist, pulling me closer, his body pressing against mine. 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 deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine, his hands tangling in my hair, I didn’t pull away.
I *arched* into him.
His coat fell open. My fingers found the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one. His skin was warm beneath my touch, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. He didn’t stop me. Just watched me, his gold eyes burning, his hands gripping my hips like I was something fragile. Something *his*.
“Opal,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Are you sure?”
“No,” I said, pressing my lips to his collarbone. “But I don’t care.”
He didn’t argue. Just lifted me, his arms locking around me, carrying me through the door and into the chambers. The fire roared to life as we crossed the threshold, the flames turning silver for a single, blinding second—*moonfire*, responding to the bond, to the truth, to *us*.
He laid me on the bed, the obsidian sheets cool against my skin. His hands were careful as they removed my robe, his touch tracing the curve of my shoulder, the dip of my waist, the swell of my hip. Every inch of skin he revealed burned with anticipation. My breath came fast. My heart pounded. My magic rose, not in defense, not in anger, but in *recognition*.
This wasn’t just sex.
It wasn’t just magic.
It was *consummation*.
He knelt beside me, his eyes burning. “I’ve waited,” he said, his voice low. “Thirteen years. Since the ritual. Since I saw you in the Obsidian Chamber. Since I knew—*knew*—you were mine. And I’ve fought it. Denied it. Hated it. But I can’t anymore.”
“And if I said no?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Then I’d stop,” he said. “But I’d never stop wanting you.”
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.
I reached for him, pulling him down, my lips meeting his in a kiss that was fire and need and truth. His hands roamed my body, not in possession, not in dominance, but in *worship*. My fingers tangled in his hair, my nails scraping his scalp, my body arching into his touch. 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 room was flooded with silver light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in the magic.
But in *us*.
His scars. His fears. His love.
And mine.
The hatred. The vengeance. The grief.
All of it—laid bare.
And then—
The light faded.
The room stilled.
And he was above me, his body a furnace, his eyes gold and burning. “Say it,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Say you want this. Say you want *me*.”
“I want you,” I said, my voice breaking. “I want this. I want *us*.”
He didn’t hesitate.
He entered me slow, deep, filling me in a way that made my breath catch, my body arch, my magic surge. The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet. My moonfire erupted, not in defense, not in attack—
But in *harmony*.
Silver flame curled from our skin, not burning, not scorching—but *uniting*. The runes on the walls glowed, not with crimson, not with black—but with *gold*. The fire roared, not with heat, but with *truth*. And the bond—
The bond was no longer a curse.
It was a *covenant*.
He moved slow, deep, each thrust a promise, each breath a vow. My nails scored his back, not in pain, not in protest—but in *surrender*. My magic rose with his, not in conflict, not in denial—but in *sync*. Our hearts beat as one. Our breath mingled. Our souls—
They *fused*.
And when I came, it wasn’t with a scream.
Not with a cry.
But with a *whisper*.
“Kael.”
And when he followed, his body shuddering, his breath ragged, his voice breaking—he didn’t say *mine*.
He said—
“*Ours*.”
We lay tangled in the aftermath, his body a warm weight against mine, his breath warm against my neck. The bond hummed between us, not as a curse.
But as a *promise*.
He didn’t speak. Just held me, his arms locked around me, his heartbeat syncing with mine. The fire burned low, its flames turning silver again, casting long shadows on the walls. The moon outside began to wane, its silver glow fading into dawn.
And then—
A whisper.
Not from the chamber.
Not from the corridor.
From *inside* my mind.
“Opal.”
Soft. Familiar. Laced with sorrow.
“You’ve become more than I dreamed.”
My breath caught.
Kael froze.
Because he’d heard it too.
Mother.
She was alive.
And she was proud.
“We’re not done,” I said, lifting my head. “Vexis is still out there. And he won’t stop until the bond is broken.”
He didn’t answer.
Just pulled me closer, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something *his*.
“Then we break him first,” he said.
I didn’t answer.
Just reached up and brushed my thumb along the bond mark on his neck.
Fire shot through me.
But this time, it wasn’t just the bond.
It was *me*.
My power. My blood. My truth.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
“The bond is changing,” I said, my voice low. “It’s not just tying us together. It’s *awakening* us.”
“Then let it,” he said, stepping closer. “Let it burn. Let it break. Let it remake us.”
“And if it destroys us?” I whispered.
“Then we’ll burn together,” he said, his voice rough. “But I won’t live in the dark.”
And then—
The Citadel 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 lay beside Kael, his arms locked around me, his heartbeat syncing with mine—
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.