The storm broke just after midnight.
One moment, the sky above Blackthorn Keep was a tapestry of stars, cold and distant. The next, thunder cracked like a whip across the cliffs, and rain lashed the stone towers in sheets so thick they turned the world into a blur of shadow and silver. Wind howled through the corridors, rattling ancient windows, snuffing torches in sudden gusts. The keep groaned—a living thing bracing against the tempest.
I stood at the balcony doors of our suite, arms wrapped around myself, watching the fury unfold. The storm mirrored the chaos inside me—raw, untamed, impossible to control. Two days. Only two days since the ritual, since the bond branded me, since I’d been forced into Kael’s bed, his space, his life. And already, the walls I’d built around my heart were cracking.
I shouldn’t have felt this.
Shouldn’t have noticed the way my breath hitched when he moved, the way my skin warmed when his hand brushed my back, the way my pulse raced when he looked at me like I was something to be devoured. I was here to destroy him, not to—
Not to want him.
I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. My reflection stared back—pale, haunted, eyes too bright. The sigil on my wrist glowed faintly, pulsing in time with the distant thunder. The bond was restless. Agitated. As if the storm outside stirred something primal in it—something ancient, something hungry.
And then I felt him.
Not footsteps. Not breath. Just… him. A shift in the air. A pull in my chest. The bond flared, warm and insistent, and I didn’t need to turn to know he was there.
“You’re going to catch a chill,” Kael said, his voice rough with sleep.
I didn’t answer. Didn’t move.
He stepped closer. I could feel the heat of him, the scent of pine and wolf and something darker—something that made my stomach clench. He stopped just behind me, close enough that the fabric of his shirt brushed my back.
“You’ve been standing there for twenty minutes,” he said. “Thinking about how to kill me?”
“Would it matter if I was?” I asked, still not looking at him.
He exhaled—a low, humorless sound. “Probably not. But it won’t work.”
“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
“I know you’re not a murderer,” he said, stepping to the side, his shoulder nearly touching mine. “Not like the ones who killed your sister.”
My breath caught. I turned my head, meeting his gaze. Gold-flecked. Unreadable. But there was something in them—something that looked like… understanding.
“You don’t know anything about her,” I said, voice tight.
“I know she was a hybrid,” he said. “Like you. I know she came here as an envoy. And I know she died in the snow, just outside these walls.”
“And you think that makes you innocent?” I snapped. “You were Alpha. You ruled this place. If you didn’t order it, you allowed it.”
He didn’t flinch. Just held my stare. “And if I told you I’d do anything to find out who did?”
I laughed—bitter, sharp. “Why? So you can protect your throne? So you can silence the truth before it reaches the Council?”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “So I can give *you* the truth. So you can have your vengeance. And then—” His voice dropped, rough, low. “So you can stop looking at me like I’m the monster in your nightmares.”
The words hit like a physical blow.
Because he was right.
I *had* been looking at him like that. Like every shadow was his doing. Like every lie was his design. But the truth was, I didn’t know. I had no proof. Only grief. Only rage. Only the desperate need to make someone pay.
And now, bound to him, trapped in his world, I was starting to wonder—
Was I wrong?
Before I could answer, a deafening crack split the air. Not thunder.
Wood.
We both turned.
A massive beam in the ceiling—centuries old, weakened by damp—had split, crashing down across the corridor just outside our suite. Splinters of stone and timber blocked the hallway, sealing us in.
“Shit,” Kael muttered.
“You think?” I shot back. “Now what?”
He stepped to the door, tested the frame. Solid. No way through without magic or brute force—neither of which we could use without alerting half the keep.
“We’re stuck,” he said.
“Brilliant deduction.”
He turned, eyes narrowing. “You’re in a mood.”
“I’m trapped in a room with the man I came to destroy,” I said, pacing. “And the only thing keeping me from setting you on fire is the fact that if you die, I die too. Forgive me if I’m not exactly cheerful.”
He didn’t respond. Just watched me, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
The silence stretched. The storm raged. The bond pulsed—steady, insistent.
And then it happened.
A wave of heat crashed through me—sudden, violent. My knees buckled. I caught myself on the edge of the bed, gasping. My skin burned. My magic flared, erratic, uncontrolled. The sigil on my wrist glowed brighter, silver light pulsing in time with my racing heart.
Bond-fever.
Again.
“Jade.” Kael was at my side in an instant, his hand on my arm. “Look at me.”
I tried. But the world was spinning. My breath came in ragged pulls. My core clenched, aching, desperate.
“You’re fighting it,” he said, voice low. “Stop.”
“I won’t—give in—” I gasped.
“You don’t have a choice.” He gripped my shoulders, turning me to face him. “The fever will only get worse. Your magic will spiral. You’ll collapse. And if you do, the bond will drag me down with you.”
“Then—let it,” I spat, even as my body betrayed me, leaning into his touch.
He growled—low, feral. “You think I’d let you die? Even now?”
His hands slid to my wrists, pinning them gently but firmly at my sides. His scent flooded my senses—storm and iron, dominance and something softer, something that made my chest ache.
“You feel it,” he murmured. “Don’t you? The pull. The need. It’s not just the bond. It’s *us*.”
“It’s biology,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Chemistry. Nothing more.”
“Then why,” he said, leaning in, his breath warm against my lips, “does it feel like fate?”
The bond flared—hot, electric. Our pulses synced. My breath hitched. My body arched toward him, desperate, starving.
And then—
A crash from the corridor.
We both turned.
The blocked passage had shifted—just enough for someone to squeeze through. A figure stepped into the dim light.
Lyra.
Kael’s Beta. A fierce, loyal wolf with sharp eyes and sharper instincts.
“Alpha,” she said, nodding. “Jade. The storm took out the east wing. Torin’s organizing repairs. He sent me to check on you.”
Kael didn’t move. “We’re fine.”
She looked at me—flushed, trembling, pinned between Kael and the bed. Her gaze flicked to the sigil on my wrist, glowing faintly.
“Bond-fever?” she asked.
“Passing,” Kael said, his voice tight.
Lyra studied us for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded. “I’ll report back. The storm should ease by dawn.”
She turned and left, the passage collapsing behind her.
Silence.
Kael didn’t release me. His hands were still on my wrists. His body still close. His breath still warm on my skin.
“She knows,” I whispered.
“She’s seen it before,” he said. “With other fated pairs.”
“And?”
“They never lasted.”
“Because they fought it?”
“Because they lied to themselves.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “They denied what their bodies knew. What their souls knew.”
“And you?” I challenged. “Do you lie to yourself?”
His eyes burned into mine. “Every damn day.”
The admission hit me like a shock.
He *felt* it too. Not just the bond. Not just the hunger.
The fear. The need. The terrifying, exhilarating pull toward something he couldn’t name.
And then the storm struck again—lightning splitting the sky, illuminating the room in a flash of white.
In that instant, we moved.
Not me. Not him.
The bond.
Our hands locked—fingers intertwining, palms pressing together. Magic surged—crimson and gold, witch and wolf, flaring between us like a living flame. The sigils on our wrists burned brighter, pulsing in unison. Our breaths synced. Our hearts hammered. The heat between us was unbearable, coiling tighter, tighter—
And then our bodies leaned in.
Just an inch. Just a breath.
Our lips almost touched.
I could feel his. Warm. Soft. Trembling.
Could taste the storm on his breath.
Could hear the ragged pull of his breath, the wild beat of his heart—our heart.
And for one impossible moment, I forgot my mission. Forgot my sister. Forgot everything but the man in front of me—the enemy who felt like home.
But then—
I shoved him away.
“No,” I gasped, stumbling back, my hands flying to my mouth. “This changes nothing.”
Kael didn’t move. His chest heaved. His eyes burned with something raw, something desperate.
“It changes everything,” he said, voice rough.
“I came here to destroy you,” I said, backing toward the balcony. “Not to—” I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t name the thing clawing its way out of my chest.
“Not to *feel* me?” he finished, stepping forward. “Too late for that, Jade. You already do.”
“I hate you,” I whispered.
“Liar,” he said, closing the distance. “You don’t hate me. You’re terrified of how much you *want* me.”
My breath caught. My body trembled. The bond pulsed—hot, insistent, undeniable.
And then he did the one thing I didn’t expect.
He stepped back.
“Go to bed,” he said, voice low. “The fever will pass. The storm will end. And tomorrow—” He turned toward the door, his back to me. “We’ll pretend this didn’t happen.”
“You think we can?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He didn’t look at me. “No,” he said. “But we’ll try.”
And then he walked to the far side of the room, lying down on the chaise by the hearth, his back to me, his body tense, his breath still unsteady.
I stood there, trembling, my lips still tingling, my skin still burning.
We hadn’t kissed.
But it had been a surrender all the same.
Because for the first time, I’d let myself *want* him.
And the worst part?
I didn’t regret it.
I climbed into bed, pulling the fur coverlet around me, but sleep didn’t come. The storm raged on. The bond pulsed. And in the darkness, I could feel him—across the room, across the war between us, across the fragile, breaking pieces of my heart.
He was right.
This changed everything.
The mission. The vengeance. The hatred.
All of it was slipping away.
And in its place—
Something far more dangerous.
Something I couldn’t name.
Something that felt, terrifyingly, like hope.
Outside, the wind howled.
Inside, the bond burned.
And for the first time since my sister died—
I wasn’t alone.
And I wasn’t sure I wanted to be.
The storm lasted until dawn.
By the time the first light crept over the cliffs, the rain had stopped. The keep was quiet. The passage had been cleared. The world had moved on.
But we hadn’t.
Kael was already dressed when I woke, standing at the window, his silhouette sharp against the gray light. He didn’t turn when I sat up. Didn’t speak.
But the bond—
It spoke for us.
Pulsing. Warm. Unbroken.
“Last night—” I began.
“Didn’t happen,” he said, still not looking at me.
I swallowed. “Right. Of course.”
He turned then, his expression unreadable. “We have a meeting with the Council in an hour. Be ready.”
And just like that, the mask was back.
The Alpha. The predator. The man who owned me.
But I’d seen behind it.
And I knew the truth.
He was just as lost as I was.
“Jade,” he said, pausing at the door.
“Yes?”
He looked at me—really looked at me. And for a heartbeat, the mask slipped.
“This changes nothing,” he said.
And I knew he was lying.
Because I was.
“It changes everything,” I whispered, but he was already gone.
I sat there, the bond pulsing in my wrist, the memory of almost-kiss burning on my lips.
He thought we could pretend.
He thought we could go back.
But the truth was—
The storm had broken something.
And neither of us would ever be the same.