The first night in Kael’s suite passed like a slow torture—silent, charged, suffocating. We lay on opposite sides of the massive four-poster bed, a chasm of dark fur and unspoken war between us. I kept my back to him, rigid, every muscle tensed, listening to the steady rhythm of his breath, feeling the pulse of the bond like a second heartbeat beneath my skin. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t speak. But I could feel his awareness, a heavy pressure at my back, as if he were watching me even in the dark.
And worse—I could feel *me*. The way my body still hummed from the fever, the way my skin prickled at the nearness of him, the way my breath caught whenever our pulses synced. I hated it. Hated how my traitorous body responded to his presence, how the bond twisted my instincts, how a part of me—a dark, secret part—wanted to roll over, press against him, and let the fire consume me.
But I didn’t.
I survived the night.
By dawn, I was already dressed—black trousers, a high-collared tunic, my hair pulled back in a tight braid. No illusions. No pretense. I was Jade now. Not Seris Vale. And I would not be cowed by a bond, a bed, or a man who thought he could own me.
Kael was already up, standing at the balcony doors, shirtless, his back to me. The morning light caught the scars that crisscrossed his shoulders—old wounds, deep and jagged, like the marks of claws. His wolf was close to the surface. I could smell it—musky, wild, dangerous. He turned his head slightly, gold-flecked eyes meeting mine in the reflection of the glass.
“You’re up early,” he said, voice rough with sleep.
“I have work to do,” I said, tightening the knot of my braid.
He turned fully, crossing his arms over his chest. His body was a map of power—broad shoulders, corded arms, a chest carved from stone. And lower—
I looked away.
“Work?” he asked, a smirk playing at his lips. “Or revenge?”
My gaze snapped back to him. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
“I know you came here to destroy me,” he said, stepping closer. “I know you believe I killed your sister. And I know you’re searching for proof.”
My breath hitched. “Then why keep me here? Why not expose me? Break the bond?”
“Because the bond won’t break,” he said, stopping just inches from me. “And if war erupts, you lose just as much as I do. The Council falls. The Southern Witches’ Conclave burns. And your sister’s death—whatever truth lies in it—gets buried in the chaos.”
I clenched my fists. He was right. And that made me hate him more.
“So we’re trapped,” I said.
“We are,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t use it.”
“Use *what*?”
“Each other.” His voice dropped, low, dangerous. “You want answers. I want control. The Summit is a battlefield of whispers and daggers. Play the diplomat. Gather your intel. And I’ll let you live.”
“You’re offering me a truce?”
“I’m offering you survival,” he corrected. “Take it. Or don’t. But don’t pretend you have a choice.”
I wanted to slap him. To set him on fire. To rip that smug look from his face with my bare hands.
But I didn’t.
Because he was right.
I didn’t have a choice.
Not yet.
“Fine,” I said, stepping around him. “But this isn’t truce. It’s strategy.”
He watched me go, his gaze burning into my back. “Call it what you want,” he said. “Just remember—every move you make, I’ll be watching.”
***
The day unfolded like a carefully choreographed lie.
I played the dutiful diplomat, attending morning briefings, exchanging pleasantries with fae nobles and vampire delegates, sipping tea that tasted like ash. Kael remained at my side, a silent, looming presence, his hand occasionally brushing the small of my back—a possessive gesture, a warning. The bond flared with every touch, sending a jolt through me, but I kept my face calm, my voice steady.
By midday, the whispers had spread: the fated pair. The political nightmare. The Southern witch and the Northern Alpha, bound by magic, trapped in intimacy. Some pitied me. Others envied me. A few—like Cassien Nox—watched me with open hunger.
He found me in the gardens that afternoon, just as the sun began to dip behind the cliffs.
“Lady Jade,” he purred, stepping from behind a hedge of black roses, his crimson coat gleaming like fresh blood. “Or may I call you… *Jade*?”
I didn’t stop walking. “You may call me nothing. We’re not friends.”
He matched my pace, his stride smooth, predatory. “No. But we could be allies. You’re outnumbered here. Surrounded by wolves, watched by fae, bound to a man who sees you as a threat.”
“And you’d offer me protection?” I asked, arching a brow.
“I’d offer you freedom,” he said, stopping in front of me, blocking my path. “A blood-bond is unbreakable. Three exchanges. Three sips of blood. And you’d be mine. No more bond-fever. No more forced proximity. No more Kael.”
I laughed—cold, sharp. “You think I’d trade one prison for another?”
“I think you’re smarter than that,” he said, stepping closer. His scent—dark wine, iron, ancient magic—wrapped around me. “I think you know Kael will never trust you. That he’ll use you, discard you, the moment you’re no longer useful.”
“And you wouldn’t?”
“I’d *worship* you,” he murmured, reaching for my hand. “I’ve seen the way you burn. The way your magic flares when he touches you. You’re not meant to be tamed, Jade. You’re meant to be *claimed*.”
His fingers closed around mine.
And the bond—the goddamn bond—exploded.
It wasn’t just a pulse. It was a *snarl*. A possessive, feral roar that ripped through my veins, making my knees buckle. My magic surged, uncontrolled, cracking the stone path beneath my feet. The sigil on my wrist burned, silver light flaring like a brand.
And then—
Kael was there.
One moment, empty air. The next, he was between us, his body a wall of muscle and fury, his hand gripping Cassien’s wrist, twisting it until the vampire hissed in pain.
“Touch her again,” Kael growled, voice low, guttural, “and I’ll rip your arm from its socket.”
Cassien smirked, unafraid. “Jealous, Alpha?”
“No,” Kael said, shoving him back. “Protective.”
I yanked my hand free, my breath coming fast. The bond still throbbed, a living thing between us, feeding on Kael’s rage, on my own trembling need.
“This isn’t your concern,” I snapped.
“You’re mine,” Kael said, not looking at me. “And I don’t share.”
“You don’t own me,” I shot back.
He finally turned, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “The bond says otherwise.”
Cassien laughed, rubbing his wrist. “How poetic. The great Kael Blackthorn, brought low by a *bond*. A witch. A *hybrid*.”
Kael moved so fast I barely saw it.
One second, he was standing. The next, Cassien was on the ground, Kael’s boot on his chest, claws extended, pressing against the vampire’s throat.
“Say it again,” Kael snarled. “I dare you.”
“Enough!” I shouted, stepping forward. “He’s not worth it.”
Kael didn’t move. His chest heaved. His wolf was close—too close. I could see the shift in his eyes, the elongation of his fangs.
“Kael,” I said, softer this time. “Let him go.”
He looked at me. And for a heartbeat, I saw it—not just rage, not just possession.
Fear.
That I’d choose Cassien. That I’d leave. That I’d break the bond.
And then it was gone.
He stepped back, retracting his claws. “This isn’t over,” he said to Cassien.
The vampire rose, smoothing his coat, his smile sharp. “Oh, it’s just beginning.”
He turned and walked away, his laughter echoing through the garden.
And then it was just us.
The bond pulsed between us, heavy, charged. The air smelled of roses and blood and something darker—desire, thick and unspoken.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, my voice low.
“Yes, I did,” he said. “He was trying to take you from me.”
“I’m not yours to keep.”
“Aren’t you?” He stepped closer. “You felt it, didn’t you? When he touched you. The bond *rejected* it. It *fought* for me.”
I swallowed. He was right. I had felt it—a visceral, primal rejection, as if my body itself refused any other claim.
“That doesn’t mean I want you,” I lied.
He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Liar,” he said. “You want me. You just don’t want to admit it.”
Before I could respond, a servant appeared at the garden gate. “My lords, my lady—the diplomatic dinner begins in one hour. You are expected.”
Kael didn’t move. “We’ll be there.”
The servant bowed and left.
“Come on,” Kael said, offering his arm. “Time to play nice for the Council.”
I hesitated. Then, slowly, I took his arm.
Not because I trusted him.
But because the bond demanded it.
And because, against my will, a part of me *wanted* to.
***
The dining hall was a cathedral of power—long tables of black oak, candelabras dripping with enchanted wax, the air thick with the scent of roasted venison and spiced wine. Fae, wolves, vampires, and witches sat in uneasy alliance, their conversations a low hum of politics and pretense.
Kael and I were seated at the head table, side by side. His hand rested on my thigh beneath the table, hidden from view. The contact sent a jolt through me—heat, electricity, the relentless pulse of the bond. I wanted to shove him away. To slap him. To scream.
But I didn’t.
Because the moment I moved, his thumb pressed into my thigh, a silent warning. And because—damn it—I liked the warmth of his hand, the possessiveness of his touch.
I focused on the meal, on the faces around me, on the delicate dance of diplomacy. I smiled. I nodded. I played the part.
And all the while, I watched.
I noted alliances. I listened for whispers. I studied the way the fae delegates glanced at Kael—some with fear, others with hunger. And then I saw her.
Lady Elira.
Fae Duchess. Council elder. And—according to the whispers—the one who had ordered the purge of hybrids decades ago.
She sat at the far end of the table, regal, ageless, her silver hair coiled like a crown, her eyes sharp as glass. She was watching me. Not with curiosity. With *recognition*.
My breath caught.
Did she know who I was?
Did she know about my sister?
And then—
She smiled.
Not a warm smile. A *knowing* one. A predator’s smile.
And in that moment, I knew.
She was involved.
Before I could react, Cassien stood, raising his goblet. “To the fated pair,” he said, his voice smooth, mocking. “May your bond bring peace… or at least, *entertainment*.”
The table erupted in uneasy laughter.
Kael didn’t laugh. His hand tightened on my thigh. His scent flared—pine and iron, dominance and warning.
I looked at him. “You’re enjoying this,” I whispered.
“No,” he said, his voice low. “I’m tolerating it. For now.”
“And when ‘now’ ends?”
He turned his head, his lips brushing my ear. “Then I’ll remind you who owns you.”
A shiver raced down my spine. Heat pooled in my belly. The bond flared, a living flame between us.
And for the first time, I didn’t hate it.
***
Later, as the guests began to disperse, Kael pulled me into the garden—dark, quiet, the moon high above.
“You were watching Elira,” he said, his voice low.
“And you were watching me,” I countered.
“You think she knows about your sister?”
“I think she knows *something*,” I said. “And I’m going to find out what.”
He stepped closer, caging me against the stone wall. His body heat radiated through the fabric of his coat. His scent wrapped around me, intoxicating.
“Be careful,” he said. “Elira plays a deeper game than you understand.”
“And you?” I asked, lifting my chin. “Do you play games too?”
His hand slid up my arm, slow, deliberate. “Only the ones I can win.”
“And this one?” I challenged. “Do you think you’ve already won?”
He leaned in, his breath warm against my lips. “You tell me.”
The bond flared—hot, insistent. Our pulses synced. My breath caught. My body arched toward him, betraying me.
And then—
He pulled back.
“Touch another man,” he said, his voice a dark promise, “and I’ll mark you where everyone can see.”
My heart hammered. My skin burned. The threat—no, the *promise*—sent a thrill through me.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I whispered.
He smiled. Slow. Devastating.
“Try me.”