The third night of the trial arrives under a blood-red moon.
It hangs low in the sky beyond the enchanted glass of the Blood Garden, swollen and pulsing like a wound in the heavens. Its light spills through the arches, painting the pale roses in shades of rust and wine, turning the fountains to liquid shadow. The air is thick with magic—old, restless, hungry. Even the fae servants move with caution, their whispers hushed, their steps light. The Blood Moon is no ordinary celestial event. It’s a time of oaths broken and bonds reforged, when the veil between desire and truth grows thin.
And tonight, the bond between Kaelen and me thrums.
It’s been three days since the truth ritual. Three days of forced proximity, of shared blood, of whispered threats and lingering touches. Three days of pretending I don’t feel the way his gaze burns over my skin, the way his voice drops when he says my name, the way my body betrays me every time he’s near. I’ve held on. I’ve lied. I’ve survived.
But tonight—
Tonight, I’m not sure I can.
I stand at the edge of the garden, wrapped in a cloak of black silk, my hands clenched at my sides. The bond pulls me toward him—Kaelen is somewhere in the shadows, I can feel it, a slow, steady pulse beneath my skin. We’re supposed to remain within ten paces. We’re supposed to share blood at moonrise. We’re supposed to prove the bond is real.
But I don’t want to prove anything.
I want to run.
Not because I’m afraid of the trial.
But because I’m afraid of what I’ll do when he touches me.
Because I’m afraid of what I’ll say.
Because I’m afraid—terrified—that when he looks at me under this moon, I’ll forget why I came here.
“You’re late,” his voice cuts through the silence, low and dangerous.
I don’t turn. “I was thinking.”
“About?”
“How much I’d like to kill you.”
He steps into view, emerging from the shadows like smoke given form. His coat is black as ever, lined with silver thread that catches the moonlight like veins. His hair is slightly tousled, his jaw tight, his red eyes burning with something I can’t name. Not anger. Not control.
Need.
“You’ve said that before,” he says, circling me. “And yet, here you are. Still breathing. Still bound to me.”
“The bond keeps me alive,” I say. “Not you.”
“No,” he murmurs, stopping behind me. His breath brushes my neck. “It’s not the bond.”
My pulse stutters.
His hands settle on my shoulders, his fingers pressing through the fabric of my cloak. Heat flares where he touches, spreading down my arms, coiling low in my belly. I don’t pull away. I can’t. The bond thrums, a slow, insistent pulse, like a drumbeat beneath my skin.
“You’re trembling,” he says.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be.” His lips brush the shell of my ear. “You should be terrified of what I’ll do to you when the moon is highest.”
Wetness blooms between my thighs. I hate it. I hate him.
But my body—
My body arches toward him, betraying me.
He feels it. Of course he does. His hands slide down, his fingers tracing the curve of my hips, then lower, gripping my thighs through the fabric of my dress. “You want me,” he growls. “Even now. Even after everything.”
“It’s the moon,” I whisper. “The magic. It’s affecting us.”
“Then why doesn’t it affect anyone else?”
I don’t answer.
He turns me, forcing me to face him, his hands caging me in. His eyes are red fire, his breath hot against my lips. “Say it,” he demands. “Say you want me.”
“Never.”
He chuckles, low and dark. “Then I’ll make you beg.”
And then—
The Blood Moon pulses.
A wave of magic rips through the garden, crashing over us like a tide. The runes on my wrist flare, burning with heat, and the bond explodes.
Not metaphorically.
Physically.It’s like fire in my veins, like lightning in my bones. I cry out, staggering back, but Kaelen catches me, his arms locking around me, his body pressing against mine. The world narrows—stone, shadow, moonlight—and then there’s only him. His heat. His scent. The way his magic curls around mine, not as a leash, but as a key.
And then—
I see.
Not with my eyes.
With the bond.
His memories flood into me—centuries of silence, of control, of cold, empty nights. The weight of his father’s legacy. The fear of becoming the monster he swore he’d never be. The loneliness. The hunger. The way he’s waited—watched—for someone who could break through the ice.
And then—
Me.
My face in the Blood Garden. My defiance in the council. The way I fought him. The way I kissed him. The way I trembled in his arms when he carried me through the shadows.
And beneath it all—
Want.
Not just desire.
Need.
For me.
I gasp, jerking back, but he holds me tighter. “You feel it now,” he whispers. “You see me.”
“I don’t want to,” I breathe. “I don’t want to know you.”
“Too late.” His hand slides up, his fingers tangling in my hair, tilting my head back. “You’re in my blood. You’re in my mind. And you’re never getting out.”
“I came here to destroy you,” I whisper.
“And I came here to destroy myself,” he says. “But then I saw you. And I realized—”
His lips brush mine. “—I don’t want to die. I want to live. With you.”
My breath hitches.
And then—
I kiss him.
Not because of the bond.
Not because of the moon.
But because I can’t not.
My hands fist in his coat, pulling him closer, my mouth crashing against his, hard and deep and desperate. He groans, low in his chest, and takes control, his tongue sliding against mine, his hands moving over me—down my back, over my hips, gripping my ass and pulling me flush against him. I can feel every hard line of his body, the heat of him, the thick length of his cock pressing against my stomach.
And then—
He lifts me.
One arm under my thighs, the other around my back, he carries me to the nearest pillar, pressing me against the cold stone. My legs wrap around his waist instinctively, my core aching, needing. He grinds against me, the friction maddening, and I moan into his mouth, my fingers clawing at his shoulders.
“You’re mine,” he growls against my lips. “Say it.”
“Never,” I gasp, even as my hips roll against his.
He bites my lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. I cry out, but he swallows the sound, his tongue laving over the wound, his fangs grazing my skin. “You’re lying,” he murmurs. “Your body knows the truth.”
“It’s the magic,” I whisper. “It’s the moon.”
“Then why does it only happen with you?”
I don’t answer.
He kisses me again, deeper, harder, until I’m breathless, until my knees weaken, until the world narrows to his mouth, his hands, his body against mine. His free hand slides under my dress, his fingers tracing the edge of my thigh, then higher—
And then—
I feel it.
Not just the heat.
Not just the need.
But truth.
The bond isn’t forcing this.
It’s revealing it.
I want him.
Not to destroy.
Not to use.
But to keep.
And that—
That is the most dangerous thing of all.
I tear my mouth from his, my breath coming in ragged gasps. “We can’t—”
“We already have,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re already mine.”
“I came here to break the Vow,” I whisper. “To free my mother. To make you suffer.”
“And now?”
My heart stutters.
“Now I don’t know what I want.”
He studies me, his red eyes burning. “Then let me show you.”
And then—
His hand slips under my shirt.
His fingers graze my bare hip, then slide higher, tracing the curve of my waist, the dip of my ribs, then—
My breast.
His thumb brushes my nipple through the fabric, and I gasp, my back arching, my core clenching with need. He feels it. Of course he does. His mouth crashes down on mine again, swallowing my moan, his fingers teasing, torturing, until I’m trembling, until I’m begging.
“Please,” I whisper, though I don’t know what I’m asking for.
“Say it,” he growls. “Say you’re mine.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.” His teeth graze my throat. “You will.”
And then—
A voice cuts through the haze.
“Well. This is… intimate.”
We freeze.
Kaelen pulls back slowly, his body still shielding mine, his arm still around my waist. I press my face into his chest, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my body still trembling with need.
Selene stands at the edge of the garden, draped in a cloak of silver silk, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her lips curved in a smirk. She’s beautiful—too beautiful—her eyes sharp, her smile venomous.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she says, stepping forward. “But the Blood Moon ritual requires the presence of the bonded pair. And I thought—perhaps you’d forgotten.”
Kaelen doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. But I feel it—the bond flaring, a surge of heat that races through me, sharp and possessive.
“You’re not part of this,” he says, his voice cold.
“Aren’t I?” She tilts her head, her gaze flicking to me. “You marked her, didn’t you? While she slept. I can smell it on her—your bite, your blood, your claim.”
My breath catches.
He marked me.
While I slept.
The betrayal cuts deep. But so does the ache between my thighs.
“She’s mine,” Kaelen says, his voice a growl. “And you will leave.”
Selene laughs—low, melodic, dangerous. “You always did like to play with fire, Kaelen. But remember—”
She steps closer, her eyes locking onto mine. “—fire burns.”
And then she’s gone, vanishing into the shadows as silently as she came.
Silence.
Kaelen turns to me, his expression unreadable. “You heard her.”
“You marked me,” I whisper. “While I was asleep.”
“I claimed what’s mine.”
“I’m not your possession.”
“You are.” He cups my face, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “And I’ll mark you again. And again. Until the whole world knows you belong to me.”
My breath hitches.
“You think that makes me yours?” I say, stepping back. “You think a bite on my hip changes anything?”
“It changes everything.”
“I came here to destroy you,” I say, my voice breaking. “To make you suffer.”
“And now?”
I look at him—really look.
At the sharp lines of his face. At the cold fire in his eyes. At the way his body responds to mine, even now, even after everything.
And I know—
The most dangerous thing isn’t the bond.
It’s not the trial.
It’s not even Selene’s schemes.
It’s the fact that, for the first time since I walked into this cursed court—
I don’t know if I want to win.
Because winning means destroying him.
And losing—
Losing might mean finally being free.
“Now,” I whisper, “I don’t know what I want.”
He steps closer, his hand lifting to trace the sigil on my wrist. “Then let me show you.”
And then—
He lowers his mouth to my nipple.
The door bursts open.
“Enough.”
Malrik stands in the threshold, his silver hair gleaming in the moonlight, his eyes cold. Behind him, Oathweavers flank the entrance, their masks glinting.
“The ritual is complete,” he says. “The bond is proven.”
Kaelen pulls back slowly, his hand still on my hip, his body shielding mine. The bond hums, tense, waiting.
Malrik’s gaze flicks to me. “You’ve passed the trial, witch. For now.”
Then he turns and leaves, the Oathweavers following.
Silence.
Kaelen looks at me, his red eyes burning. “You’re mine,” he says. “No matter what happens. No matter who comes. You’re mine.”
I don’t answer.
Because in the silence, beneath the hum of the bond, I hear it.
A whisper.
Not in my ears.
In my mind.
You’re already mine.
And for the first time—
I don’t hate it.