The northern border of the Blackthorn Citadel was a jagged scar across the mountainside, where the ancient wards flickered like dying stars against the storm-laden sky.
Wind howled through the stone outposts, carrying the scent of iron and snow. Torches trembled in their sconces, their flames bent sideways by the gale. Below, the valley lay shrouded in mist, but I could feel them—dozens of dark presences moving through the shadows, their magic pulsing with aggression. The Iron Fangs. Militant. Unstable. And now, they were here.
Kael stood at the edge of the battlement, his silhouette carved from shadow and fury. His coat flared behind him like a banner, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He hadn’t spoken since we left his chambers. Not a word. Just that heavy, simmering silence between us, thick with everything we hadn’t said—Lyra’s lies, the bite marks, the blood he’d shared with another woman. The bond hummed beneath my skin, a low, insistent thrum, reacting to his anger, his tension, his *need*.
And mine.
Because no matter how much I hated him, no matter how much I wanted to believe he was just another liar using me for power—my body didn’t care. It remembered the library. The way his breath had hovered over my lips. The way my magic had surged toward him, eager, desperate. It remembered the heat of his touch, the depth of his voice, the way his hand had traced my bond mark like it was sacred.
I hated that I remembered.
“They’re testing the wards,” Silas said, stepping up beside Kael. His voice was calm, but his dark eyes were sharp, scanning the valley. “If they breach the outer line, they’ll reach the lower tunnels by dawn.”
Kael didn’t turn. “Then we stop them before they cross the ridge.”
“You’re not going alone,” I said, stepping forward.
He finally looked at me, his gold eyes blazing. “You’re not a warrior, Opal. You’re a witch. And you’re *mine*—which means I decide where you stand.”
“You don’t get to decide anything about me,” I snapped. “The bond keeps us close, but it doesn’t make me your soldier. I came here to fight. Not to cower behind you.”
“Then you’ll get your chance,” he growled. “But you follow my lead. No heroics. No reckless magic. You stay within ten feet. Understood?”
I glared at him. “I’m not your pet.”
“No,” he said, stepping into me, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re my *weakness*. And I won’t let you die because you’re too proud to listen.”
My breath caught.
His words hit like a blade. Not because they were cruel. Because they were *true*. The bond didn’t just tether us—it exposed us. Made us vulnerable. And if I died, he’d feel it. Maybe even fall with me.
And that terrified him.
Before I could respond, a roar split the night.
From the valley below, a wave of figures surged forward—werewolves in half-shift, claws bared, eyes glowing red in the dark. They moved like a storm, tearing through the weakened wards, their snarls rising into the wind.
“They’re here,” Silas said.
Kael turned, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Northern Pack—form the line! Protect the flank! Opal—stay behind me!”
I didn’t answer. Just gripped the dagger at my thigh and followed as he leapt from the battlement, landing in a crouch on the frozen ground below. The pack surged forward, a wall of muscle and fang, meeting the Iron Fangs in a clash of fury and blood.
Chaos erupted.
Claws tore through leather. Fangs sank into flesh. Magic flared—green witch-light, black fae shadow, the raw power of the moon. I stayed close to Kael, just as he’d ordered, my breath coming fast as I wove a shield of lunar energy around us. An Iron Fang lunged at him from the side—I flung out my hand, and a pulse of silver light sent the attacker flying.
Kael didn’t thank me. Just nodded once, his eyes never leaving the fight.
“They’re pushing toward the inner gate,” Silas shouted, appearing at our side. “If they breach it, they’ll reach the Citadel.”
Kael snarled. “Then we cut them off. Now.”
He shifted—just slightly, but enough. His spine arched, his claws lengthened, his canines sharpened. He wasn’t fully transforming. Not yet. But the Alpha was rising, and the air around him crackled with power.
“Opal,” he said, not looking at me. “Stay close.”
And then he charged.
I followed, weaving magic as I ran. I wasn’t strong in direct combat, but I could disrupt, distract, defend. A werewolf lunged at me—I threw a binding sigil, freezing him in place. Another came from behind—I spun, slashing with my dagger, drawing blood. The scent of it—copper and musk—filled the air, and for a second, I felt it—the bond flaring, reacting to violence, to proximity, to *him*.
Kael fought like a storm given flesh. He moved through the enemy like death, his claws ripping through flesh, his growls silencing snarls. When an Iron Fang tried to flank him, I hit it with a pulse of moonfire, the silver flames searing its arm. Kael turned, his eyes meeting mine—just for a second—and something passed between us. Not words. Not trust. But *acknowledgment*.
We were fighting together.
And it worked.
The Iron Fangs faltered. Their formation broke. One by one, they began to retreat, vanishing into the mist, their howls fading into the wind.
“They’re pulling back,” Silas said, stepping beside us, his coat torn, his lip bleeding.
Kael didn’t relax. Just scanned the valley, his chest heaving. “They’ll regroup. This isn’t over.”
“No,” I said, wiping blood from my cheek. “But we held the line.”
He turned to me, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t listen. You could’ve been killed.”
“And you could’ve been torn apart without me,” I shot back. “Don’t pretend you didn’t need me.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t *need* anyone.”
“Then why did you tell me to stay close?” I demanded. “Why do you keep me near if I’m just a liability?”
“Because the bond demands it!” he roared, stepping into me. “Because if you die, I feel it! Because if you fall, I *break*—and I can’t afford to break, Opal! Not now. Not ever!”
The words hit like a physical blow.
He wasn’t just angry.
He was *afraid*.
And the bond—oh, the bond—flared between us, a surge of heat and magic that made my knees weak. My breath came fast. My skin burned. My magic rose, not in defense, but in *response*. To him. To his rage. To his fear.
“You think I don’t feel it too?” I whispered, stepping closer. “You think I don’t know what it means to be tied to you? To feel your heartbeat in my chest, your breath in my lungs? I hate you, Kael. I came here to kill you. But I can’t—because the bond won’t let me. And that makes me *furious*.”
He didn’t back down. Just stared at me, his gold eyes burning. “Then stop fighting it.”
“I won’t surrender to you.”
“I’m not asking for surrender,” he said, his voice low, rough. “I’m asking for *truth*. You feel it. You want me. Your magic sings when I’m near. Your body burns when I touch you. The bond doesn’t lie, Opal. And neither does your pulse.”
“It’s the magic,” I said, but my voice wavered. “It’s the bond. It’s not *real*.”
“Then why does it feel like this?” he demanded, stepping closer, closing the distance between us. “Why does your breath catch when I look at you? Why do your fingers tremble when I touch you? Why did you fight at my side tonight like you belonged there?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know.
Because maybe—just maybe—it *was* real.
And that was the most dangerous thought of all.
He reached up, his fingers brushing 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 hands flew to his chest, not to push him away, but to hold on. 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—
He kissed me.
Not like in the ritual. Not in agony. Not in magic.
But in *hunger*.
His mouth crashed against mine, hot and demanding, his hands tangling in my hair, holding me in place. I didn’t fight. Didn’t pull away. Just kissed him back—fierce, desperate, like I was drowning and he was the only air. My dagger fell from my hand. My magic flared, wrapping around us like a living thing, silver and wild.
His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming, consuming. My nails dug into his shoulders. His fangs grazed my lip—just a tease, a promise. The bond screamed between us, a surge of heat and power that made the ground tremble beneath our feet.
And then—
A crash.
The sound of splintering wood.
The door to the nearest outpost—the old guardhouse—slammed shut behind us, the wind slamming it with unnatural force. The torches inside flickered, then died, plunging us into darkness.
We broke apart, gasping.
“What the hell—” I started.
But the door didn’t open.
I stepped toward it, yanking at the handle. Locked. Solid.
“Kael—”
He didn’t answer.
Just stepped into me again, his body pressing against mine, his breath hot against my neck. His hand slid beneath my shirt, his palm burning against my bare stomach. My breath hitched. My body arched into him.
“You want me to stop?” he whispered, his voice rough. “Say it. Say you don’t want this.”
I couldn’t.
Because I didn’t know if I meant it.
His fingers traced the edge of my waistband, teasing, torturing. My magic rose, not in defense, but in *need*. The bond flared, a pulse of heat that made my knees weak. My hands fisted in his coat, pulling him closer.
And then—
A voice.
“Alpha?” Silas called from outside. “Opal? Are you in there?”
Kael didn’t move. Just kept his eyes locked on mine, his hand still beneath my shirt, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just above my hip.
“We’re fine,” he called, voice steady. “Go. Secure the perimeter.”
“The door’s locked,” Silas said.
“It’ll open when we’re ready,” Kael said. “Now go.”
A pause.
Then footsteps fading into the wind.
We were alone.
The silence stretched, thick with tension, with heat, with everything unspoken. His hand still burned against my skin. My breath still trembled. My heart still raced.
“You’re not going to let me go, are you?” I whispered.
“No,” he said, stepping closer, his body pressing against mine. “Not until you admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“That you want me,” he said, his voice low, rough. “That you’re not just my curse. You’re my match. My equal. My—”
“Don’t,” I said, my voice breaking. “Don’t say it. Don’t pretend this is anything more than magic and rage.”
“Then why does it feel like this?” he demanded. “Why do you burn when I touch you? Why did you fight at my side like you belonged there? Why did you kiss me back like you’ve been waiting for it?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know.
Because maybe—just maybe—I had.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “Don’t pretend you didn’t want it,” he growled. “I can feel your pulse. I can smell your arousal. The bond doesn’t lie, Opal. And neither do you.”
I shoved him.
Hard.
He stumbled back, surprise flashing across his face. I didn’t wait. Just turned and yanked at the door again. Still locked.
“Let me out,” I said, voice trembling.
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “Not until you stop lying to yourself.”
“I’m not lying!” I snapped, turning to face him. “I hate you! I came here to kill you! This—this *thing* between us—it’s not real! It’s the bond! It’s magic! It’s—”
He kissed me again.
Harder this time. Deeper. His hands fisted in my hair, holding me in place. I fought. I shoved. I bit his lip until I tasted blood.
And still, I kissed him back.
My body betrayed me. My magic surged. The bond flared, a pulse of heat that made the walls tremble. I could feel him—his need, his hunger, his *fear*—and it mirrored my own.
And then—
I slapped him.
Hard.
The sound cracked through the darkness like a gunshot.
He froze.
His hand dropped from my hair. His breath came fast. A red mark bloomed on his cheek.
And the door—
Unlocked.
It swung open with a creak, revealing the storm-lit night beyond.
We both stood there, breathing hard, the bond humming between us, the taste of blood and moonlight on our lips.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t want it,” he growled, his voice rough.
I didn’t answer.
Just stepped past him, my heart pounding, my skin still burning where he’d touched me.
The door remained open.
But I knew one thing.
I wasn’t the only one who was trapped.
And the war between us?
It had just changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It was about *truth*.
And I wasn’t sure I was ready to face it.