The scream still echoes in my ears.
Not mine.
Not from pain.
But from the moment his fangs sank into my breast—deep, claiming, consuming—and the bond flared like a supernova, a pulse of crimson fire wrapping around us both, visible to the entire court. I didn’t just feel it. I saw it. A living ribbon of magic, red as blood, coiling around our bodies, binding us in front of the Fae High King, the Vampire Elder, the Oathweavers, the nobles, the liars, the schemers.
And I screamed.
Not from agony.
From release.
Like something inside me—some final, stubborn wall—had shattered. Like I’d been holding my breath for years, and only now had I finally exhaled. My back arched. My fingers clawed at his coat. My core clenched, wet and aching, as the magic flooded through me, hotter than blood, deeper than truth.
And then—
Silence.
The court froze. No whispers. No movement. Just wide eyes, gaping mouths, the flicker of torchlight on silver masks. Even Malrik looked stunned—his cold eyes wide, his jaw tight, his fingers twitching at his side like he wanted to reach for a weapon but didn’t dare.
Kaelen lifted his head, blood on his lips, his red eyes burning into mine. Not with triumph. Not with possession.
With hunger.
And then he growled—low, deep, a sound that vibrated through my bones—and the entire hall heard it.
“Say it.”
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
My breath was ragged, my body trembling, my skin still humming with the echo of his bite, his touch, the way his cock had pressed against me, hard and insistent, even in front of the entire court. I could still feel the heat of him, the pulse of the bond, the way his voice had dropped to a whisper when he said, I don’t want to die. I want to live. With you.
And I believed him.
For the first time, I believed him.
But that was the problem.
Because believing him meant losing myself.
Because loving him meant betraying my mother.
Because staying meant becoming his—body, soul, and magic—and I wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Not when the Blood Vow still held her soul. Not when Malrik still schemed. Not when I still had to destroy the very man who now held me like I was the only thing keeping him from falling into the abyss.
So I whispered—soft, defiant—
“Prove it.”
And he did.
Right there, in front of them all, he kissed me—hard, deep, real—his tongue sliding against mine, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me flush against him. I gasped, and he swallowed the sound, his fangs grazing my lip, his body pressing me back against the dais, the bond flaring brighter, hotter, until the air itself seemed to shimmer with magic.
And then—
It was over.
The High King cleared his throat. The music resumed. The feast continued, but the energy had shifted. The whispers were louder now, sharper. Did you see that? She screamed for him. He marked her in front of us all. She’s his now. Truly his.
And maybe I was.
But not completely.
Not yet.
Because I still had a mission.
And I still had to break his heart.
We returned to his chambers in silence. The bond hummed between us, steady, watchful, like it knew what I was about to do. Kaelen didn’t touch me. Didn’t speak. Just walked beside me, his presence like a storm, his red eyes burning with something I couldn’t name—hope? Fear? Need?
When we reached the room, he closed the door behind us, the lock clicking shut with a soft, final sound. The fire burned low in the hearth, casting long shadows across the black stone walls, the shelves lined with ancient tomes, the maps of war and alliance pinned to the stone.
“You’re quiet,” he said, his voice rough.
“You marked me in front of the entire court,” I replied, not turning. “I think I’ve earned a moment of silence.”
He stepped closer, his presence like a storm. “You wanted proof. I gave it to you.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You would’ve said no.”
“And if I had?”
“Then I’d have done it anyway.”
My breath hitched.
He saw it. Smirked. “You’re not mad. You’re curious.”
“I’m not curious about you.”
“No?” He stepped closer, his hand lifting to trace the fresh bite on my breast. The fabric of my dress was torn, the wound still oozing, the skin around it warm, the twin punctures deep and precise. The bond flared where he touched me, a slow, spreading heat that pooled between my thighs. My breath hatched. My nipples tightened. My core clenched with need.
“You’re not afraid,” he said, voice low. “You’re awake.”
“I’m not yours.”
“You are.” He cupped my face, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “And you’re going to stay.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll burn the world to find you.”
My chest tightened.
He saw it. Leaned in, his lips brushing mine. “Say it. Say you’ll stay.”
“I can’t promise forever.”
“Then promise tonight.”
I looked at him—really looked.
At the sharp lines of his face. At the cold fire in his eyes. At the way his body responded to mine, even now, even after everything.
And I knew—
The most dangerous thing wasn’t the bond.
It wasn’t the trial.
It wasn’t even Malrik’s schemes.
It was the fact that, for the first time since I walked into this cursed court—
I didn’t know if I wanted to win.
Because winning meant destroying him.
And losing—
Losing might mean finally being free.
“I’ll stay,” I whispered. “For tonight.”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t gloat. Just pulled me into his arms, his body pressing me against his chest, his breath warm against my neck. My back to his front. His heat enveloping me. His cock hard against my ass, thick and insistent, but he didn’t move. Didn’t grind. Just held me, his body trembling with restraint.
And I let him.
For the first time, I didn’t fight.
I just… let it in.
I fell asleep tangled in black silk, my back pressed to his chest, his arm heavy around my waist, his breath warm against my neck. His cock was still hard against my ass, but he hadn’t touched me beyond that. Just held me—tight, possessive, protective—like I was something fragile. Something precious.
And worse—
I didn’t pull away.
I stayed.
For the first time since I walked into this cursed court, I didn’t fight. Didn’t plan. Didn’t plot. I just… let myself be. Let myself feel the heat of him, the rhythm of his breath, the way his body responded to mine even in sleep. Let myself believe—just for a moment—that he wasn’t the monster I came to destroy.
That he could be something else.
Something mine.
But when I woke, the storm inside me had returned.
I slipped from his arms, my movements silent, my breath steady. He didn’t stir. Just lay there, his face relaxed in sleep, his lips slightly parted, his fangs just visible. He looked younger like this. Softer. Human.
And that made it worse.
Because I had to break him.
Not because I wanted to.
But because I had to.
I dressed quickly—black trousers, a dark tunic, boots laced to the knee. I took the silver dagger from the drawer, the one I’d used for the blood memory ritual, and tucked it into my belt. Then I pulled a small vial from my robe—the last of Maeve’s truth serum, a clear liquid that would make anyone who drank it speak only truth for one hour.
And then I left.
The corridors were quiet, the torches flickering in their sconces, the air thick with the scent of wet stone and old blood. I moved like a shadow, my boots silent on the obsidian floor, my heart hammering. I didn’t go to the throne room. Didn’t go to the Blood Garden.
I went to the west wing.
To the hidden chamber beneath the Hall of Echoes.
Malrik was waiting.
He stood in the center of the room, his silver hair gleaming in the torchlight, his eyes cold, his hands clasped behind his back. Behind him, two Pale Court assassins stood like statues, their faces masked, their daggers drawn.
“You came,” he said, his voice a blade.
“I came to make a deal,” I said, my voice steady.
“And what makes you think I’d deal with a witch?”
“Because I know about the Blood Vow.”
His breath stopped.
“I know you want it. I know you want the power it holds. And I know I’m the only one who can break it.”
“And if you do?”
“Then I’ll hand it to you. On one condition.”
“Which is?”
“Kaelen dies.”
He studied me—my clenched fists, my set jaw, the fire in my eyes—and for a second, I thought he’d laugh. Call me a liar. Say he knew I loved him.
But then he smiled.
Slow. Cold. Sharp as a blade.
“Agreed,” he said. “Bring me the Vow. Kill the prince. And I’ll grant you freedom. Power. A place in my court.”
“And if I fail?”
“Then you die.”
“And if I succeed?”
“Then you live. And you rule beside me.”
My chest tightened.
But I didn’t hesitate.
“I accept.”
He stepped closer, his presence like a storm. “Prove it. Swear on blood.”
I pulled the silver dagger from my belt and sliced my palm. Blood welled—thick, dark, alive. I pressed my hand to the stone floor, the runes glowing faintly beneath my touch.
“I swear,” I said, voice low, dangerous. “I will bring you the Blood Vow. I will kill Kaelen. And I will serve you.”
The runes flared crimson.
The oath was sealed.
Malrik smiled. “Good. Now—”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, leather-bound book—the Blood Vow contract, its cover etched with ancient sigils, its pages stained with dried blood. “Take it. Study it. Learn how to break it. And when you’re ready—”
He pressed it into my hands. “—kill him.”
I took it, my fingers trembling. The magic pulsed beneath my skin, cold and alive. This was it. The thing I’d come for. The key to my mother’s freedom.
And the weapon that would destroy the man I loved.
I turned and left, the book clutched to my chest, my breath coming in shallow gasps. I didn’t go back to Kaelen’s chambers. Didn’t go to the Blood Garden.
I went to the one place he wouldn’t look for me.
To Maeve’s hidden chamber beneath the west wing.
She was waiting.
She stood by the hearth, her silver hair loose, her eyes sharp, her hands clasped in front of her. The room was small, lined with shelves of ancient tomes, the air thick with the scent of dried herbs and old magic.
“You swore an oath to Malrik,” she said, not turning.
“I did.”
“And you mean to break it.”
“I have to.”
She turned, her eyes burning into mine. “You love him.”
“I can’t.”
“You do.”
“And if I do?”
“Then you’re already lost.”
“No. I’m saving him.”
She stepped closer, her hand lifting to cup my face. “You’re not saving him. You’re destroying yourself. Because if you kill him, you’ll never forgive yourself. And if you don’t, Malrik will kill you.”
“Then I’ll die.”
“No.” She pressed the truth serum into my hand. “You’ll make him believe you’ve betrayed him. You’ll make him hate you. And then—”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “—you’ll run. And you’ll come back when you’re strong enough to fight him *together*.”
My breath hitched.
“But the Vow—”
“You’ll take it. You’ll study it. You’ll learn how to break it. But you won’t use it. Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”
“And if he doesn’t believe me?”
“Then you’ll make him.”
I looked at the serum, then at the book, then at her.
And I knew—
This was the only way.
So I nodded.
And I went back.
Kaelen was in his chambers, standing at the window, his back to me, his coat open at the collar, his hands clenched at his sides. The fire burned low, casting long shadows across the stone walls, the shelves lined with ancient tomes, the maps of war and alliance pinned to the stone.
He didn’t turn. Didn’t speak.
But I felt him.
The bond hummed between us, tense, watchful.
“You were gone,” he said, voice low.
“I had to think.”
“About what?”
“About us.”
He turned slowly, his red eyes burning into mine. “And?”
“I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?”
“Be yours.”
His breath stopped.
“After last night—after the mark, after the bond, after the way you looked at me in the court—you’re telling me you don’t want me?”
“I don’t.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.” I stepped closer, my voice low, dangerous. “I made a deal with Malrik. I swore on blood. I’m going to break the Vow. And I’m going to kill you.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at me, his face unreadable.
And then—
He laughed.
Low. Cold. Sharp as a blade.
“And you expect me to believe that?”
“You should.” I pulled the Blood Vow contract from my belt and threw it at his feet. “I have the Vow. I know how to break it. And I’m going to use it to destroy you.”
He looked at the book, then at me, his red eyes burning.
And then—
He stepped closer, his presence like a storm. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You love me.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“And if I do?” I pulled the vial from my pocket and uncorked it. “Then this will prove I don’t.”
Before he could react, I drank it.
The liquid was cold, sharp, spreading through me like ice. I felt it—the truth rising, the lies falling away, the bond screaming in protest.
And then—
I spoke.
“I came here to destroy you,” I said, voice flat, emotionless. “I don’t love you. I never did. I was using you. I’ll break the Vow. I’ll kill you. And I’ll rule beside Malrik.”
Kaelen froze.
His red eyes burned into mine, not with anger, not with rage—but with something worse.
Heartbreak.
And then—
He turned away.
“Get out,” he said, voice low, broken.
“Kaelen—”
“Get out.”
I didn’t move.
“I love you,” I whispered.
But the serum held. The truth was sealed.
And I couldn’t say it.
So I left.
And as the door closed behind me, I heard it.
Not a growl.
Not a curse.
But a whisper.
So soft, so broken, I almost didn’t hear it.
“I loved you. And you destroyed me.”
And for the first time—
I didn’t let it in.
I just… let it break me.
Scarlet Vow
The first time Lavender sees Kaelen, he’s biting a courtesan’s throat in the shadowed alcove of the Blood Garden—blood on his lips, power in his gaze, and a ring on his finger carved with the sigil of her mother’s enslavement. She doesn’t flinch. She plans.
She arrives at the Fae High Court under false papers, posing as a witch envoy, but her real mission is written in blood: destroy the Blood Vow, reclaim her mother’s stolen soul, and make Kaelen suffer. But fate has other designs. During a treaty signing meant to unite vampire and fae houses, an ancient ward activates—triggering a forbidden bond between Lavender and Kaelen. Their hands are forced together. Their blood mingles. A pulse of fire races through them both, and for one breathless second, they see each other—his cold eyes flare with shock; her breath hitches with unwanted heat.
Now they’re bound by magic, politics, and a hunger that terrifies them both. Kaelen, the immortal prince who’s never lost control, finds himself obsessing over the witch who defies him at every turn. Lavender, who swore never to be used again, wakes one night to find his mark burning on her hip—he marked her in her sleep. The betrayal cuts deep, but so does the ache between her thighs.
And then she appears—Selene, Kaelen’s former blood-bonded lover, draped in his cloak, whispering secrets into his ear. She claims he once drank from her on the Night of Thorns. She wears his ring. She knows how he likes to be touched.
But the greatest danger isn’t Selene. It’s the truth Lavender begins to fear: that to break the vow, she may have to become his. And that her body—and her heart—might already belong to him.