The iron gates of Blackthorn Keep groaned open like a beast parting its jaws. I stepped forward, my boots silent on the frost-laced stone, my spine straight, my breath steady. Lady Seris Vale. That was the name stitched into my invitation, the name etched into the silver locket at my throat. It wasn’t mine. But the mission was.
Three years. Three years since my sister’s body was found in the snow outside this very fortress, her throat torn, her eyes wide with betrayal. Three years since I’d felt the snap of our bloodline bond—the psychic thread between hybrid sisters—go cold. They said a rogue vampire did it. A scapegoat. A lie.
I knew the truth. Or at least, I knew the name they whispered in the shadows: Kael Blackthorn. Alpha of the Northern Packs. Ruthless. Untouchable. And tonight, I would walk into his den, smile at his court, and destroy him.
The Grand Hall rose before me, all black stone and stained glass, lit by flickering sconces that cast long, clawed shadows. Inside, the air hummed with power—wolf, fae, vampire, witch—each species staking its claim in the delicate dance of the Supernatural Summit. I adjusted the high collar of my midnight-blue gown, the fabric enchanted to suppress my scent, my magic, my very pulse. My illusion held: pale skin, dark hair, a Southern witch’s delicate features. No one would see the fire beneath. No one would see the hunter.
I stepped into the hall.
And the world stopped.
A shiver ripped through me—deep, primal, like ice cracking underfoot. My blood didn’t just sing. It screamed. Every vein lit up with raw, electric awareness, my heart hammering so hard I thought it would burst. My breath caught. My fingers twitched at my sides. And then—
I saw him.
Across the room, near the dais where the Council delegates stood, he turned.
Kael Blackthorn.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in black leather and wolf pelt, his dark hair cropped close, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass. His eyes—gold-flecked, feral, knowing—locked onto mine.
And the bond hit like a physical blow.
I staggered, my hand flying to my chest. It wasn’t magic. It wasn’t illusion. It was something deeper, older—something biological. A pulse. His pulse. Thrumming in my wrist, my throat, my core. Synchronized. Shared.
His scent crashed into me—pine and iron, smoke and storm, raw male dominance that made my knees weak. I inhaled, and it was like breathing fire. My skin flushed. My nipples tightened beneath the silk. A low, dangerous heat coiled in my belly, spreading like wildfire.
No. No.
This wasn’t part of the plan. This was mate-bond. Fated. Impossible. Forbidden.
I forced my legs to move, my face a mask of calm. I was Jade, not Seris. Jade, who had trained in combat, in deception, in the cold art of vengeance. I would not be undone by a look. By a scent. By a pulse.
But as I walked, the bond flared hotter. Every step closer to him sent a jolt through me—like touching a live wire. My breath came faster. My magic prickled beneath my skin, fighting the enchantment, fighting him. I could feel his awareness like a weight, pressing against my mind. Watching. Testing.
And then the Fae High Court arrived.
A ripple went through the crowd as three figures stepped forward, draped in silver mist and moonlight. The High Priestess of Thorns, her eyes like fractured opals, raised a hand.
“Silence,” she intoned, her voice echoing with ancient power. “The Shadow Fate has awakened.”
A hush fell. Even the vampires stilled.
“Two souls, bound by blood and betrayal. Two hearts, destined to unite or fracture the peace. The prophecy demands a pairing. And the magic has chosen.”
She turned. Her gaze swept the room. Then landed—on me.
“Jade of the Bloodline,” she said. “Daughter of the Forbidden Union. You are named.”
My blood turned to ice. She knew. Knew my real name. Knew my blood. Knew I wasn’t Seris Vale.
But before I could react, the Priestess turned to Kael.
“Kael Blackthorn. Alpha of the North. Heir of Thorns and Shadow. You are named.”
Gasps rippled through the hall. Kael’s expression didn’t change. But I saw it—the flicker in his eyes. The slight flare of his nostrils. He’d known. He’d felt it too.
“By the power of the Fae Court,” the Priestess declared, “you are bound. By blood. By fate. By the will of the ancient magic.”
Two attendants stepped forward, holding a silver chalice filled with dark liquid—shadow essence, the catalyst for fated bonds. Kael moved first, his stride powerful, deliberate. He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. Close enough that his scent wrapped around me like a vice.
“You,” he said, voice low, rough. “I knew you were trouble the moment you walked in.”
“You have no idea,” I whispered, lifting my chin.
He smirked. Then extended his hand—palm up, wrist exposed. A thin, silver blade appeared in his other hand. Without hesitation, he sliced his wrist. Blood, dark and rich, welled up.
“Your turn, witch,” he said, holding out the blade.
I took it. My fingers didn’t tremble. My breath didn’t hitch. I sliced my wrist with a clean, precise motion. Blood dripped into the chalice, mingling with his—mine a deep crimson, his almost black.
The Priestess raised the chalice. Chanted in a language older than time. The liquid swirled, glowing with eerie light.
Then she handed it to us.
“Drink,” she commanded.
Kael didn’t hesitate. He brought the chalice to his lips and drank. When he lowered it, a single drop of the mixture clung to his lower lip.
He looked at me. Waited.
I could run. I could fight. I could shatter the illusion, reveal myself, and try to kill him right here.
But the bond—the bond—pulled me forward. It wasn’t just magic. It was need. A hunger so deep it scared me.
I drank.
The liquid burned—cold fire racing down my throat, searing through my veins. My vision whited out. My knees buckled.
Kael caught me.
His arm wrapped around my waist, holding me upright. His body pressed against mine—hard muscle, heat, strength. I could feel his heart pounding against my side. Our heart. One rhythm. One pulse.
Then the mark appeared.
A searing pain flared on my wrist—where I’d cut myself. I looked down.
A sigil burned into my skin—twisted vines and sharp thorns, glowing faintly silver. The Blackthorn sigil. Our sigil.
And in that moment, I felt him. Not just his body. Not just his scent.
His mind.
Images flashed—dark forests, blood on snow, a woman with fae eyes screaming. Pain. Rage. Loneliness.
And beneath it all—hunger. Not for power. Not for war.
For me.
I gasped, wrenching myself from his hold. My breath came in ragged bursts. My skin burned. My magic roared, fighting the bond, fighting the connection.
“You’re mine now,” Kael said, his voice low, possessive. “Whether you like it or not.”
“I came here to destroy you,” I spat, clutching my marked wrist. “Not to be chained to you.”
He stepped closer. So close his breath ghosted over my lips. His golden eyes burned into mine.
“And yet,” he murmured, “you’re trembling.”
I wasn’t. I wasn’t.
But I was. My hands shook. My pulse raced. The heat between my thighs was unbearable. The bond pulsed, a living thing between us, feeding on every breath, every glance, every unspoken desire.
“You think this changes anything?” I challenged, backing away. “I still know what you did. I still know what you are.”
“Do you?” He tilted his head. “Or do you only know what you’ve been told?”
Before I could answer, the crowd erupted—whispers, gasps, murmurs of scandal. The fated pairing of the Southern diplomat and the Northern Alpha? A political nightmare. A media circus.
Kael didn’t look at them. He only looked at me.
And then he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. His voice was a dark caress, laced with heat and something dangerously close to amusement.
“You smell like revenge,” he whispered. “And something sweeter.”
His breath sent a shiver down my spine. My traitorous body responded—heart racing, skin flushing, core clenching.
“What?” I breathed.
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. A slow, devastating smirk curved his lips.
“Desire,” he said. “Yours. And mine.”
The bond flared—hot, insistent, undeniable. Our pulses synced. Our breaths tangled. For one heartbeat, one impossible moment, I forgot my mission. Forgot my sister. Forgot everything but the man in front of me—the monster I was supposed to hate.
And I hated myself for wanting him.
The hall spun. The voices faded. All I could see was Kael. All I could feel was the bond—tightening, claiming, consuming.
I had come to Blackthorn Keep to expose a killer.
Instead, I had been bound to him.
And the worst part?
Part of me didn’t want to break free.