The cold in the cell was no longer just an absence of warmth—it was a presence. A living thing that slithered through the cracks in the stone, coiled around our bones, and whispered of slow death. It gnawed at the edges of the bond, weakening it with every passing breath, every shuddering gasp. Jade trembled in my arms, her skin ice against mine, her pulse fluttering like a dying bird beneath my palm. I held her tighter, pressing my chest to her back, my legs tangled with hers, my heat pouring into her like blood into a wound.
But it wasn’t enough.
The fever was rising—bond-fever, raw and vicious, the kind that came when the tether between mates frayed too close to breaking. I could feel it in my own veins, a fire beneath the ice, a scream in my blood. My wolf snarled beneath my skin, desperate to shift, to fight, to *survive*. But the iron in the walls, the fae wards carved into the stone, they dampened the shift, made it dangerous. One wrong move, and the magic would backlash, burn us both from the inside out.
So I stayed still.
And I held her.
Her breath hitched against my neck, warm and ragged. “Kael…”
“I’m here,” I murmured, pressing my lips to her temple. “I’m not letting go.”
“It’s not working,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “The heat… it’s fading. The bond…”
I didn’t lie. Didn’t soothe. Just tightened my arms around her. “Then we give it more.”
She turned in my arms, her storm-gray eyes wide, her lips pale. “What more can we give?”
“Everything,” I said, my voice rough. “The bond doesn’t just want heat. It wants *claiming*. It wants proof. And if we don’t give it—” I hesitated, my thumb brushing her lower lip. “We die.”
She didn’t flinch. Just stared at me, her chest rising and falling, her pulse racing beneath my touch. And then—
She nodded.
One small, fierce movement. A surrender. A vow.
And gods help me, it undid me.
My hand slid to her neck, my fingers curling into the dark strands of her hair. I didn’t ask. Didn’t wait. Just pulled her mouth to mine, my lips crashing into hers with a hunger that stole my breath. She gasped, arching into me, her hands flying to my shoulders, her magic flaring—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined—surging between us like a storm given form.
The bond flared—hot, blinding, unbearable. Our pulses synced. Our breaths tangled. The cold recoiled, just for a moment, as if the magic itself knew: this was not just survival.
This was *union*.
I kissed her like I’d wanted to since the first time she walked into Blackthorn Keep—like she was mine, like she was life, like she was the only thing standing between me and the abyss. My tongue swept into her mouth, claiming, devouring, and she met me with equal fire, biting my lip, tangling her fingers in my hair, pulling me deeper.
And then—
The fever hit.
Not just hers.
It ripped through me—white-hot, searing—my back arching, my teeth bared, a growl tearing from my throat. My vision blurred. My muscles locked. The bond screamed, a living thing tearing at the edges of my control.
Jade cried out, her body convulsing against mine, her fingers digging into my arms. “Kael—!”
“I’ve got you,” I snarled, my voice raw. “I’ve *got* you.”
But I didn’t. Not yet.
Not truly.
The bond needed more. It needed a mark. A claim. A *seal*.
And I was done waiting.
I broke the kiss, my breath ragged, my golden eyes burning into hers. “I have to bite you,” I said, my voice low, dangerous. “To stabilize us. To seal the bond.”
Her breath caught. “You’ll mark me.”
“Yes.”
“Permanently.”
“Yes.”
She didn’t hesitate. Just lifted her chin, exposing the pale column of her throat, her pulse hammering beneath the skin. “Do it.”
And gods help me, I did.
I didn’t go for the neck—not yet. Not like a predator. I kissed her first—slow, deep, reverent—trailing my lips down her jaw, her throat, the curve of her shoulder. My hands roamed her body—her spine, her hips, the strong lines of her thighs—memorizing every inch, every scar, every breath she took. She shivered beneath me, her magic flaring, her body arching into my touch.
And then—
I bit.
Not deep. Not to draw blood.
Just enough.
My teeth sank into the soft flesh of her shoulder, just above the curve of her breast, and she cried out—half pain, half pleasure, all *mine*. The bond exploded—light, sound, magic—crimson and gold flaring between us like a supernova. Her fingers dug into my back, her body arching, her climax tearing through her in a silent wave.
And then—
The mark glowed.
Silver thorns, intertwined with crimson vines, blooming across her skin like a living sigil. The same design as mine, but brighter, fiercer, *hers*. The bond pulsed—warm, unbroken, alive—and the fever receded, just slightly, like a tide pulling back from the shore.
But it wasn’t over.
Not yet.
“Again,” she gasped, her voice rough. “Do it again.”
I didn’t argue. Just shifted, my mouth moving to her neck, my fangs grazing the pulse point. She arched into me, her breath hot against my ear. “Harder,” she whispered. “*Claim* me.”
And I did.
This time, I bit deep.
My fangs pierced her skin, drawing blood—dark, rich, humming with magic—and she screamed, her body convulsing, her magic surging like a storm. The bond flared—hot, blinding, unbearable—our pulses syncing, our breaths tangled, our souls fusing. The mark on her shoulder burned brighter, spreading, the silver thorns wrapping around her collarbone, the crimson vines curling toward her heart.
And then—
Something changed.
Not just in the bond.
Not just in us.
In the *magic*.
The air crackled. The stone trembled. The wards on the walls flickered, their silver light dimming, as if the power itself recoiled from what we’d become.
And then—
Images.
Flashes, fragments, pouring into my mind like a flood.
A woman with silver hair, her eyes sharp as glass—Elira—standing over a ledger, her hand moving, forging Kael’s signature.
A forest clearing, the same sigil from the Veil Woods glowing beneath the moon.
The Fae Court of Thorns—its spires rising like jagged teeth, its halls filled with shadowed figures, their eyes glowing silver.
And then—
A map.
Not of the land.
Of the wards.
Weak points. Entry points. A path.
I gasped, pulling back, my mouth still on her neck, her blood warm on my lips. “Jade—”
She was trembling, her eyes wide, her breath ragged. “I saw it too,” she whispered. “The map. The wards. The way out.”
I looked down at her, my heart hammering. “The bond—”
“It’s not just a tether,” she said, her voice steady now. “It’s a weapon. A key.”
I didn’t argue. Just pressed my forehead to hers, my breath mingling with hers. “Then we use it.”
She nodded, her fingers tightening on my arms. “Together.”
***
The fever was still there. The cold still clawed at our bones. But the bond—
It was stronger now. Brighter. *Alive*.
I helped her sit up, my hands steady on her arms, my gaze never leaving hers. “Can you walk?”
“I can fight,” she said, rising slowly, her body still humming with the aftermath of the mark. The sigil on her shoulder glowed faintly, the silver thorns pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
I stood with her, my body a wall of heat and muscle. The cell was still warded, the iron bars twisted but not broken. But now—now we had the map. The weak points. The way the magic flowed, where it thinned, where it could be broken.
“There,” I said, pointing to the far corner of the cell, where the stone met the wall. “The ward is weakest there. If we hit it together—”
“With magic,” she finished. “Bonded magic. Witch and wolf. Crimson and gold.”
I nodded. “On three.”
She stepped beside me, her shoulder brushing mine, her heat seeping into my skin. Our pulses synced. The bond flared.
“One,” I said, my magic rising—golden, feral, a storm given form.
“Two,” she whispered, her magic flaring—crimson and wild, fire and iron.
“Three.”
We struck.
Not with claws. Not with teeth.
With *magic*.
Our hands shot forward, twin arcs of power—crimson and gold—colliding in the air, merging into a single, blinding beam that slammed into the wall. The stone cracked. The ward shattered. And then—
Light.
Not fae silver. Not prison gray.
Sunlight.
It poured through the breach, warm and golden, cutting through the darkness like a blade. I didn’t hesitate. Just grabbed Jade’s hand, lacing our fingers together, the bond pulsing between us—hot, electric, alive.
“Run,” I said.
And we did.
***
The tunnels beneath the Fae Court of Thorns were a labyrinth—twisting, turning, lined with glowing sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat. We moved fast, silent, our breaths even, our steps light. The bond guided us—pulling us toward the surface, toward freedom, toward the truth.
But Elira knew we were loose.
We felt it before we saw them—the shift in the air, the scent of silver and decay, the faint hum of magic. Fae guards—six of them—emerged from the shadows, their eyes glowing, their hands crackling with power.
“You won’t leave here alive,” one hissed, stepping forward.
Jade didn’t speak.
Just raised her hand.
Fire erupted—crimson and wild, witch and wolf entwined—arcing toward the first guard. He threw up a shield, but it shattered under the force. I was already moving—shifting partially, my claws slashing, my fangs bared. The second guard went down with a scream, his throat torn out.
The others attacked.
Light—silver and blinding—flashed through the tunnel, but we were faster. Stronger. *Bonded*.
Jade’s magic flared, a wave of fire that sent two guards flying. I lunged, my claws slicing through the third, my fangs sinking into the fourth. The last one tried to run, but Jade was on him in an instant, her hand closing around his throat.
“Where is she?” she snarled, her voice raw. “Where’s Elira?”
He gasped, his eyes wide. “The throne chamber. She’s… preparing the final ritual.”
“What ritual?” I growled, stepping forward.
“To break the bond,” he choked. “To sever the Shadow Fate. To take… your power.”
Jade’s grip tightened. “And if she succeeds?”
“You’ll die,” he whispered. “Both of you.”
She didn’t hesitate.
Snapped his neck.
And then—
She turned to me, her storm-gray eyes burning. “We stop her.”
I nodded, lacing my fingers with hers. “Together.”
The bond pulsed—warm, unbroken, alive.
And as we ran toward the throne chamber, toward the final battle, I knew one thing for certain:
Elira had made a fatal mistake.
She’d tried to break us.
And instead—
She’d forged us.
Into something unstoppable.
Into something eternal.
Into the storm.
And we would burn her down.