The world snapped back into focus like a whip cracking against my spine. The roar of the crowd surged around me—gasps, whispers, the clink of goblets, the rustle of silk and fur—but all of it was muffled, distant, as if I were underwater. Only one thing was real: the pulse in my wrist. Thrumming. Relentless. Synchronized with Kael’s.
I tore my gaze from his smirking mouth, from those gold-flecked eyes that had seen too much, felt too much. My breath came in short, jagged pulls. My skin burned where he’d touched me, where his breath had grazed my ear. That whisper—*desire*—echoed in my skull like a curse.
“You’re mine now,” he’d said.
No. I wasn’t. I was Jade, not Seris. I was a hunter, not prey. I had come here to expose him, to burn his name to ash, not to—
A wave of heat crashed through me, sudden and violent. It started in my core and radiated outward, searing through my limbs, tightening my chest, making my nipples peak beneath the silk of my gown. My vision blurred at the edges. My knees buckled.
“Jade.”
His voice. Deep. Commanding. Close.
I tried to step back, but my legs wouldn’t obey. The bond—*the goddamn bond*—was pulling me toward him like a magnet. It wasn’t just physical. It was *biological*. A primal, chemical demand. Deny it, and my body would revolt.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed, clutching my wrist where the sigil still glowed faintly, a brand of silver thorns.
He didn’t listen.
In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between us, his hand closing around my upper arm. His grip was iron, unyielding. Heat radiated from his palm through the fabric of my sleeve, branding me in a different way.
“You’re going to collapse,” he said, voice low, rough. “And I’m not letting you make a spectacle of us.”
“Let go of me,” I snarled, trying to wrench free. But my strength was fading. The heat was building, coiling tighter in my belly, making my muscles tremble. My magic—usually a steady hum beneath my skin—was erratic, flaring and dying like a dying star. The enchantment on my gown was failing. I could feel my true scent—wolf and witch, wild and untamed—beginning to bleed through.
“You’re fighting it,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “That only makes it worse.”
“I don’t care,” I gasped. “I won’t—won’t give in to this—this *fate*.”
He exhaled through his nose, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Then, without warning, he bent down and swept me into his arms.
“What the hell—?!” I thrashed, my fists pounding against his chest. But it was like hitting stone. His muscles were corded steel beneath the leather and wool. He held me effortlessly, one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back, my head lolling against his shoulder.
“Stop,” he ordered, his voice a dark command. “Or I’ll carry you out like a disobedient pup.”
I stilled. Not because I obeyed. But because the movement made the heat worse. Every shift of my body against his sent a fresh wave of sensation through me—his warmth, his scent, the steady thud of his heart against my side. *Our* heart. One rhythm. One pulse.
He turned and strode toward the grand archway that led out of the hall. The crowd parted before him like water, whispers rising in his wake.
“Is that the Southern diplomat?”
“They’re fated? Impossible.”
“Did you see her face? She looked like she was in pain.”
“Or pleasure.”
I gritted my teeth, humiliation burning hotter than the fever in my blood. I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t some helpless female succumbing to mate-bond madness. I was a witch-wolf hybrid with centuries of bloodline magic. I had trained under the Southern Coven’s most ruthless enforcers. I had survived assassinations, betrayals, the slow erosion of grief.
And yet here I was—carried like a prize, my body betraying me, my mission crumbling beneath the weight of a supernatural bond.
Kael didn’t look at the crowd. His jaw was clenched, his expression unreadable. But I could feel the tension in his arms, the way his breath hitched slightly when my thigh brushed against something hard beneath the leather of his trousers.
His erection.
My breath caught. A fresh wave of heat flooded my core, so intense it stole my voice. I shouldn’t have noticed. I shouldn’t have *felt* it. But the bond amplified everything—his scent, his heat, his *want*. And mine.
I turned my head away, pressing my cheek against the rough wool of his shoulder. My skin burned where it touched him. My pulse raced. My breath came in shallow, desperate pulls.
“You’re enjoying this,” I accused, my voice barely a whisper.
He didn’t answer. But the corner of his mouth twitched. A smirk. A *victory*.
We moved through the keep’s labyrinthine halls—stone corridors lit by flickering torches, tapestries of wolves and thorns lining the walls. The air grew colder, the scent of moss and damp stone replacing the perfume and politics of the Grand Hall. My magic flickered, trying to stabilize me, but the bond was too strong. It was feeding on my resistance, turning my defiance into fuel for the fire.
“Where are you taking me?” I managed.
“My quarters,” he said. “You need to rest. Or you’ll collapse.”
“I don’t need your—your *charity*.”
“It’s not charity,” he said, his voice low. “It’s survival. For both of us. If you die, the bond breaks. And if the bond breaks…” He didn’t finish. But I knew. The Shadow Fate prophecy had been clear—unite, or fracture the peace. If we failed, war would erupt. Supernatural factions would tear each other apart.
And Kael would lose everything he’d fought for.
So this wasn’t about me. It was about control. About power. About keeping his political house from burning down.
Good.
Let it burn.
But even as the thought formed, my body betrayed me. A soft whimper escaped my lips as another wave of heat surged through me. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him without permission.
He felt it. Of course he did.
“You’re fighting a war you can’t win,” he said, his voice softer now. Not kind. Never kind. But… something else. Something that made my chest ache in a way the fever didn’t explain.
“I’ve been fighting wars since I was a child,” I shot back, forcing strength into my voice. “I’ll keep fighting this one.”
He didn’t respond. Just kept walking, his strides long and purposeful. The silence stretched, filled only by the echo of his boots on stone, the ragged sound of my breathing, the relentless pulse of the bond.
Then we reached a heavy oak door, carved with the Blackthorn sigil—twisted vines and thorns, just like the mark on my wrist. Kael shifted me slightly, freeing one hand to push the door open.
Inside, the room was vast—high ceilings, a stone fireplace with a low fire burning, a massive four-poster bed draped in dark fur. Shelves lined with ancient tomes, a weapons rack holding swords and daggers, a desk cluttered with maps and scrolls. This was no guest chamber. This was the Alpha’s den.
He carried me to the bed and laid me down with surprising care. My body sank into the soft fur, the heat of the fire warming my skin. But it wasn’t enough. The fever was still there, coiled in my belly, demanding relief.
Kael stood over me, his silhouette sharp against the firelight. His eyes glowed faintly in the dimness, wolf-light. He was half-shifted. I could see the subtle changes—the sharper angle of his jaw, the elongation of his canines, the way his scent deepened, wilder, more dangerous.
“The bond-fever will pass,” he said. “If you stop fighting it.”
“And if I don’t?” I challenged, lifting my chin despite the tremor in my limbs.
He stepped closer, one knee pressing into the bed beside me. His hand reached for my wrist, the one with the mark. I tried to pull away, but he caught it, his fingers closing around my pulse point.
“Then you’ll burn,” he said, his voice a rough caress. “Your magic will spiral. Your body will break down. And I’ll have to keep you here—bound, helpless—until you submit.”
My breath hitched. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” he said, his thumb brushing over the sigil. A jolt of heat shot through me, straight to my core. I gasped, arching slightly off the bed.
He saw it. Of course he did. His eyes darkened, the gold in them flaring. His nostrils flared as he inhaled—my scent, my arousal, my *need*.
“You feel it,” he murmured. “Don’t you? The pull. The hunger. It’s not just the bond. It’s *us*.”
“It’s biology,” I spat, yanking my wrist free. “Chemistry. Nothing more.”
He leaned down, his face inches from mine. His breath was warm against my lips. His scent wrapped around me, intoxicating, maddening.
“Then why,” he whispered, “does it feel like fate?”
The bond flared—hot, insistent. Our pulses synced. My heart hammered against my ribs. My body screamed for touch, for release, for *him*.
I turned my head away, breaking the spell. “Get out,” I said, my voice shaking. “I need to be alone.”
He didn’t move. Not at first. Then, slowly, he straightened, his gaze lingering on me—on my flushed skin, my parted lips, the way my chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.
“You won’t be alone for long,” he said. “The Council will demand answers. The cohabitation order will be issued by morning.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“Fated pairs during peace negotiations,” he said, a cruel edge to his voice. “Council-mandated. We’ll be sharing quarters. Every move watched. Every breath analyzed.”
Horror coiled in my gut. Trapped. Watched. Bound not just by magic, but by politics. By *law*.
“You’re lying,” I whispered.
He smirked. “Check the bylaws. Article Seven, Section Three: *Fated pairs must reside in shared accommodations to ensure bond stability and prevent diplomatic incident.*”
I knew the rules. I’d studied them. But I’d never thought—never *allowed* myself to think—that I’d be subject to them.
“This changes nothing,” I said, forcing steel into my voice. “I’ll still expose you. I’ll still destroy you.”
He turned toward the door, pausing with his hand on the latch. Then he looked back at me, his expression unreadable in the firelight.
“You think I won’t find your secrets?” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “I’m counting on it.”
And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
Silence.
I lay there, trembling, the fire crackling, the bond pulsing in my wrist like a second heartbeat. My body still burned. My magic still flared, unstable, wild.
But beneath the fever, beneath the fear, beneath the crushing weight of the mission that was slipping through my fingers—
There was something else.
A whisper.
A truth I couldn’t ignore.
I *had* felt it.
When he carried me. When his thigh brushed against his erection. When his breath ghosted over my lips.
I hadn’t just felt the bond.
I’d felt *him*.
And worse—
I’d liked it.
I closed my eyes, pressing the heels of my hands against my temples. *No. No, no, no.*
I had come to Blackthorn Keep to destroy Kael Blackthorn.
Instead, I was burning for him.
And the most dangerous part?
I didn’t know if I wanted the fever to break.