The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers, glowing like dying stars in the black stone. Dawn had bled into full morning, pale light creeping through the high windows of the suite, casting long, silent shadows across the floor. The keep was stirring—wolves moving through the corridors, fae attendants arranging silver vases of night-blooming thornroses, vampire diplomats whispering in the solarium. The world had moved on.
But I hadn’t.
I stood by the hearth, barefoot, shirtless, the weight of last night still pressing against my chest. Not exhaustion. Not regret. But something heavier. Something that pulsed in time with the bond—steady, insistent, alive.
Jade.
She was in the bathing chamber, washing the scent of fear and fever from her skin. I could feel her through the bond—her breath even, her pulse calm, the heat of her body lingering in the steam. She hadn’t spoken since the kiss. Hadn’t looked at me. Hadn’t pulled away when I carried her back to the suite, laid her on the bed, and stood guard like a sentinel at the edge of a war.
And that silence—
It was louder than any scream.
Because she hadn’t fought me.
When I pinned her to the wall, when my mouth crashed into hers, when my hand slipped beneath her shirt—she hadn’t pushed me away. She’d arched into me. Moaned. Needed.
And then she’d whispered, voice raw, trembling:
“Prove it.”
Three words. A challenge. A surrender. A vow.
And gods help me, I would.
I’d spent my life building walls—around the keep, around my heart, around the half-fae blood that made me a target, a freak, a weapon. I’d ruled with iron, trusted no one, let no one close. Not even Torin, not even Lyra. Not until her.
Jade.
The woman who’d come to destroy me. The one who’d searched my study for proof of murder. The one who’d shattered glass with a whisper, who’d faced Mira with fire in her eyes, who’d looked at me like I was the monster in her nightmares.
And now—
Now she wanted me.
Not as her enemy.
Not as her Alpha.
But as her mate.
The bond pulsed—a warm throb in my wrist, a tug in my chest. I could feel her moving, the water sloshing, the soft rustle of fabric as she dressed. I didn’t turn. Didn’t call out. Just stood there, staring into the embers, the weight of centuries pressing down on me.
Because I knew what came next.
The whispers had already begun. Mira’s Claim. That’s what they were calling it. The scandal of the Southern diplomat, the fated mate, nearly burning another woman alive with magic. The Alpha shielding his rival. The kiss in the corridor—desperate, furious, undeniable.
They’d seen it all.
And they’d twist it.
Elira would twist it. Use it. Turn the Council against us, fracture the bond, ignite war.
But I was done playing her game.
Done hiding.
Done pretending I didn’t want her.
The door creaked open.
I turned.
Jade stepped into the sitting room, dressed in black trousers and a high-collared tunic, her dark hair damp, clinging to her neck. No illusion. No pretense. Just her. My her.
She didn’t look at me. Just walked to the window, her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the northern cliffs, where the storm had scoured the earth clean.
“They’re talking,” she said, voice low. “About Mira. About the kiss. About us.”
“Let them,” I said, stepping closer. “They’ve always talked.”
She turned her head, storm-gray eyes meeting mine. “You don’t care?”
“I care,” I said. “But not about their opinions. Only about yours.”
She looked away. “You shouldn’t have kissed me like that.”
“I should’ve done it sooner,” I said, stopping just behind her. “I should’ve claimed you the moment you walked into this keep. Should’ve marked you where everyone could see.”
Her breath hitched. “You think this is about possession?”
“No,” I said, stepping even closer. My chest brushed her back. My scent wrapped around her—pine and iron, storm and something darker. “I think it’s about truth. About what the bond already knows. What our bodies already know.”
“And what’s that?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
“That you’re mine,” I said, my hand sliding to her hip, pulling her back against me. “And I’m yours.”
She didn’t pull away. Didn’t fight. Just leaned into me, her head falling back against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck.
The bond flared—hot, electric. Our pulses synced. Magic surged beneath my skin, wild and untamed. I could feel her heartbeat, her breath, the way her body still remembered the kiss, the way it still wanted me.
“You think it’s that simple?” she asked, her voice trembling. “One kiss, and everything changes?”
“It already changed,” I said, my lips brushing her temple. “The moment the Fae Court named us. The moment you drank from the chalice. The moment you held me in that bath, and I realized I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
She turned in my arms, her hands pressing against my chest. Her eyes were bright, fierce, haunted. “You let Mira wear your shirt. You let her say those things. You didn’t deny it.”
“I told you why,” I said, my voice rough. “The bond. It wouldn’t have believed me if I’d denied it too fast. It would’ve punished us both.”
“And the kiss?” she asked. “Was that punishment too?”
“No,” I said, my hand sliding to her neck, my thumb brushing her lower lip. “That was survival. For both of us. You were running. The bond was breaking. And I—” I hesitated. Swallowed. “I couldn’t let you go.”
Her breath caught.
“You think I’d let you walk away?” I asked, stepping closer, caging her against the wall. “After everything? After the ledger? After Mira? After the way you looked at me in that bath, like you wanted me to ruin you?”
“I didn’t—”
“Liar,” I growled, my hand tightening. “You did. And I saw it. Felt it. The way your body arched into my touch. The way your breath hitched when I pressed against you. The way your magic flared when I washed your back.”
She didn’t deny it.
Just stared at me, her chest rising and falling, her pulse racing beneath my thumb.
“You think I haven’t felt it?” I asked, leaning in, my breath warm against her lips. “The way your pulse races when I’m near? The way your skin flushes? The way your magic flares when I touch you?”
“It’s the bond,” she whispered. “It’s not real.”
“Then why,” I said, my voice dropping to a rough caress, “does it feel like this?”
And then—
I kissed her.
Not desperate. Not furious.
Slow.
Deep.
Claiming.
My mouth moved over hers, hungry, possessive, a vow written in teeth and tongue. Her hands flew to my shoulders, not pushing, not fighting—holding. Her body arched into mine, soft and strong, a storm given form. The bond flared—hot, blinding, unbearable. Magic surged between us, crimson and gold, witch and wolf, flaring like a living flame.
And when I pulled back, her lips were swollen, her breath ragged, her eyes dark with something I’d never seen before.
Not hate.
Not fear.
Want.
“You’re mine,” I growled, my hand sliding to her wrist, my thumb brushing over the sigil. “No one else. Not Mira. Not Elira. Not the Council. You’re mine.”
She didn’t pull away.
Didn’t argue.
Just looked at me—really looked—and for the first time, I saw it.
Belief.
“Prove it,” she whispered, her voice rough.
And I would.
***
The sun was high by the time we left the suite, the keep alive with movement and whispers. Wolves paused in the corridors, their ears twitching. Fae attendants exchanged glances. Vampires lingered in doorways, their smiles too knowing.
Let them stare.
Let them talk.
Because today, I was done pretending.
Jade walked beside me, her spine straight, her gaze forward. No illusion. No pretense. Just her. My mate. My storm. And the bond pulsed between us—warm, unbroken, alive.
We moved through the keep like a single force, two halves of a whole. Torin met us at the war room, his dark eyes sharp. “Mira’s demanding to see you,” he said. “Says she has something to tell you. In private.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Bring her to the great hall. In chains. And clear the room.”
He nodded and disappeared.
Jade looked at me. “You’re going to confront her in front of everyone?”
“I’m going to end her,” I said. “In front of everyone.”
She didn’t flinch. Just nodded. “Good.”
***
The great hall was vast—black stone, stained glass, flickering sconces casting clawed shadows. By the time we arrived, the room was empty, the air thick with silence. Torin stood at the dais, Mira on her knees before him, her wrists bound in silver chains, her head bowed.
But when she saw us, she lifted her chin.
Defiant.
Smirking.
“Kael,” she purred. “I knew you’d come.”
I didn’t speak. Just walked to the dais, Jade at my side. The bond pulsed—hot, insistent. Our pulses synced. I could feel her anger, her pain, the way her magic flared beneath her skin.
“You stole my shirt,” I said, voice low, dangerous.
She laughed. “And you let me wear it. Let the world believe I’d spent the night in your bed. Let them think you’d betrayed your fated mate.”
“I let you think you’d won,” I said. “Because I was waiting for this moment.”
“And what moment is that?” she asked, lifting her chin. “The moment you admit you still want me?”
“No,” I said, stepping forward. “The moment I prove you’re nothing.”
She flinched.
Good.
I turned to Torin. “Bring it.”
He stepped aside, revealing a wooden chest. He opened it, pulled out a bundle of black wool—and tossed it onto the dais.
Her eyes widened.
It was the shirt. The one she’d worn. The one she’d used to humiliate Jade.
I picked it up, holding it by the collar. “You think this means something?” I asked, my voice echoing through the hall. “You think wearing my clothes makes you mine?”
She didn’t answer.
“This shirt,” I said, “was a gift. From my mother. The only one she ever gave me.”
Jade’s breath caught beside me.
“And you,” I said, stepping closer, “you stole it. Wore it like a trophy. Let the world believe you’d been in my bed.”
“Because I had,” she spat.
“No,” I said, my voice dropping to a growl. “You didn’t. And you never will again.”
And then—
I threw it into the hearth.
The flames roared to life, consuming the fabric, the Blackthorn sigil, the last trace of her lie. The fire crackled, casting flickering light across the hall, across Mira’s face—pale, horrified, broken.
“The only woman who wears my mark,” I said, my voice loud, clear, final, “is the one I can’t live without.”
I turned to Jade.
And for the first time, I let them see.
My hand lifted, slow, deliberate, and I traced the line of her jaw, my thumb brushing her lower lip. The bond flared—hot, electric. Her pulse raced beneath my touch. Her breath hitched.
And the hall—
Exploded.
Whispers. Gasps. Murmurs of shock, of scandal, of awe.
But I didn’t care.
Because she was looking at me—really looking—and in her eyes, I saw it.
Belief.
“You’re not what I expected,” she whispered.
“Neither are you,” I said, my voice rough. “But I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”
She smiled—small, hesitant, real.
And then—
She leaned in.
And kissed me.
Not desperate. Not furious.
Slow.
Deep.
Theirs.
The bond flared—hot, blinding, unbearable. Magic surged between us, crimson and gold, witch and wolf, flaring like a living flame. The hall fell silent. The world stopped.
And in that moment, I knew.
The war wasn’t over.
Elira was still out there.
The Council still doubted.
The packs still feared.
But none of it mattered.
Because I had her.
And she had me.
And together—
We were the storm.
Outside, the whispers continued.
But inside—
There was only us.
And the fire that would burn the world down.