I woke with the weight of him still on me—the heat of his body, the rough texture of his chest against my back, the steady thud of his heartbeat syncing with mine. For a disorienting moment, I forgot where I was. Forgot the bond. Forgot the fever. Forgot Mira, the ledger, the truth.
All I knew was Kael.
His arms were still wrapped around me, one hand splayed across my stomach, the other tangled in my hair. His breath ghosted over my neck, warm, even. He was asleep. Or pretending to be. Either way, he held me like I belonged there. Like I’d always belonged.
And worse—
I didn’t want to move.
The memory of the ritual flooded back—his hands on my skin, the slow, deliberate wash of the cloth, the way his hardness had pressed against me, just once, a silent promise. I’d let him touch me. Let him soothe the fever, calm the bond, still the storm inside me. And when he’d pulled me closer, when his hips had rolled against me—
I hadn’t stopped him.
I’d wanted it.
And that terrified me more than any fever, any lie, any enemy.
I slid out of his arms slowly, careful not to wake him. The air was cool against my bare skin, the scent of eucalyptus and pine still clinging to my body. I found my clothes folded neatly on the stone bench—my tunic, my trousers, my boots—and dressed quickly, my fingers fumbling with the buttons. I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t risk seeing his golden eyes, the way his mouth curved when he was satisfied, the way his scent wrapped around me like a claim.
Because if I did, I might stay.
And I couldn’t stay.
The mission—my vow, my sister’s memory—was still out there. The truth was deeper than I’d thought. Elira had framed Kael. Used Mira to fracture us. But that didn’t mean the war was over. It meant it had just begun. And I couldn’t fight it with my body humming from his touch, my skin still warm from his hands, my heart still racing from the way he’d looked at me—like I was something to be devoured, not destroyed.
I needed space. Clarity. Time to think without the bond pulling me toward him, without his voice in my ear, his breath on my neck, his hands on my body.
I slipped out of the bathing chamber, through the suite, and into the corridor. The keep was quiet—early morning, the wolves still in their dens, the fae hidden in their chambers, the vampires sleeping in their crypts. The stone halls were dim, lit only by flickering sconces that cast long, clawed shadows.
I moved like a ghost, my boots silent on the stone. I didn’t know where I was going. Only that I had to go. Away from Kael. Away from the bond. Away from the dangerous, fragile trust we’d built.
But the bond had other plans.
It pulsed in my wrist—a low, insistent throb—growing stronger with every step I took. The farther I moved from him, the more it flared, a warning, a leash. I ignored it. Kept walking. My breath came faster. My skin burned. The sigil on my wrist glowed faintly, silver light pulsing in time with my racing heart.
Bond-sickness.
Deny the mate, and the body rebels. Deny proximity, and the fever returns. Deny the bond, and it breaks—fracturing the peace, igniting war.
I didn’t care.
Let it burn.
Let the world burn.
I reached the east wing—the private chambers, where only the Alpha and his inner circle were allowed. The corridor was empty. The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp stone. I paused at the end of the hall, where a narrow staircase spiraled down into the lower levels—the archives, the armory, the old dungeons. If I could get there, I could hide. Find more proof. Plan. Breathe.
But before I could move—
“Jade.”
His voice hit me like a physical blow.
I froze.
Didn’t turn. Didn’t speak.
Just stood there, my back to him, my breath coming fast, my body already responding—heat flooding my core, my pulse syncing with his, the bond screaming in my blood.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice low, rough.
“Away,” I said, not looking at him. “From you. From this.”
“You can’t,” he said, stepping closer. I could feel the heat of him, the way his scent wrapped around me—pine and iron, storm and something darker. “The bond won’t let you.”
“Watch me,” I spat, taking another step toward the stairs.
And then—
Pain.
White-hot, searing. It ripped through me—my head, my chest, my limbs—like my body was tearing itself apart. I gasped, stumbling, my hands flying to my temples. My vision blurred. My knees buckled.
Bond-sickness.
Full force.
“Jade!”
Kael was at my side in an instant, his arm wrapping around my waist, holding me upright. His touch sent a fresh wave of sensation through me—his heat, his strength, the way my body still remembered the ritual, the way it still wanted him.
“You’re hurting yourself,” he said, voice tight. “Stop.”
“Let me go,” I gasped, struggling weakly. “I don’t need you. I don’t need this.”
“You do,” he said, lifting me into his arms. “And you know it.”
“I came here to destroy you,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “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, carrying me back toward the suite. “Too late for that, Jade. You already do.”
“I hate you,” I said, my breath ragged.
“Liar,” he murmured, his voice a dark caress. “You don’t hate me. You’re terrified of how much you want me.”
I didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Because he was right.
And the worst part?
I didn’t hate him.
I hated that I needed him.
***
He carried me back to the suite, laid me on the bed, and stood over me, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. The bond pulsed between us—hot, insistent. Our pulses synced. My breath came fast. My skin burned.
“You think you can run from me?” he asked, his voice low. “From this?”
“I don’t have to run,” I said, forcing strength into my voice. “I just have to want to.”
He stepped closer, one knee pressing into the bed beside me. His hand reached for my wrist, the one with the sigil. I tried to pull away, but he caught it, his fingers closing around my pulse point.
“The bond won’t let you leave,” he said, his thumb brushing over the silver thorns. 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.”
“Then why,” he whispered, leaning down, his breath warm against my lips, “does it feel like fate?”
The bond flared—hot, electric. Our pulses synced. My heart hammered against my ribs. My body screamed for touch, for release, for him.
And then—
I shoved him away.
“No,” I gasped, rolling off the bed, stumbling to my feet. “This changes nothing.”
“It changes everything,” he said, rising slowly, his gaze never leaving mine.
“I came here to destroy you,” I said, backing toward the door. “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.
***
But now—
Now I was trapped.
Kael stood in the doorway, blocking my escape, his body a wall of muscle and fury, his scent flooding the hall, making my knees weak. The bond pulsed—hot, insistent. Our pulses synced. My breath came fast. My skin burned.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, stepping closer.
“You don’t own me,” I snapped, backing up. “I’m not your prisoner.”
“You’re my fated mate,” he said, closing the distance. “And I don’t share.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” I said, my magic flaring—crimson sparks dancing at my fingertips. “I’m not some prize to be claimed.”
“No,” he agreed, his voice dropping, rough. “You’re not a prize.” He reached for me, his hand closing around my upper arm. “You’re a storm. Wild. Unpredictable. Dangerous.” His other hand slid to my waist, pulling me against him. “And I’m the only one who can handle you.”
“Let go,” I hissed, struggling, but my strength was fading. The bond-sickness was still there, coiling 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.
“You think I’d let you walk away?” he asked, his breath hot on my neck. “After everything? After the ledger? After Mira? After the way you looked at me in that bath, like you wanted me to ruin you?”
My breath caught.
He’d seen it. Of course he had. The way my body had arched into his touch, the way my breath had hitched when his hardness pressed against me, the way my fingers had tightened on his arm when he washed my back.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.
“I know you,” he said, his voice a dark caress. “I know how you fight. How you lie. How you burn.” He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “And I know how much you want me.”
“I don’t—”
“Liar,” he growled, spinning me around and pinning me against the wall. His body pressed against mine—hard muscle, heat, strength. His hands caged me in, one on either side of my head. His golden eyes burned into mine. “You think I haven’t felt it? 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,” I gasped, my voice breaking. “It’s not real.”
“Then why,” he said, leaning in, his breath warm against my lips, “does it feel like this?”
And then—
He kissed me.
Not gentle. Not soft.
Desperate.His mouth crashed into mine, hungry, furious, claiming. His hand tangled in my hair, holding me in place, his body pressing me against the wall. I gasped, arching into him, my hands flying to his chest, my magic flaring, the bond screaming with need.
It wasn’t love.
It wasn’t forgiveness.
It was survival.
A war cry. A declaration. A promise.
You’re mine.
His other hand slid under my shirt, calloused fingers trailing my spine, heat flooding my core. I moaned, breaking the kiss, my breath ragged, my lips swollen.
“You’re not hers,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “You’re not anyone’s but mine.”
He didn’t answer.
Just kissed me again—harder, deeper, his teeth grazing my lower lip, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I bit back a cry, my fingers digging into his shoulders, my body arching, aching, needing.
And then—
His hand slipped under my shirt.
His palm pressed against my bare stomach, heat flooding me, his thumb brushing the edge of my breast—
And the world exploded.
Light. Sound. Magic. The bond flared—hot, blinding, unbearable. Our pulses synced. Our breaths tangled. My back arched, my head falling back against the wall, a moan tearing from my throat.
And then—
Darkness.
***
I came back to myself slowly—dazed, trembling, my body still humming with heat. Kael was still pressed against me, his forehead resting on my shoulder, his breath ragged, his hand still under my shirt, his fingers splayed across my stomach.
The bond pulsed—warm, insistent, alive.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
“You’re mine,” he growled, lifting his head, his golden eyes burning into mine. “No one else. Not Mira. Not Elira. Not the Council. You’re mine.”
I should’ve pulled away. Should’ve slapped him. Should’ve reminded him that I wasn’t his property, that I wasn’t some prize to be claimed.
But I didn’t.
Because in that moment, I believed him.
And worse—
I wanted to be.
“Prove it,” I whispered, my voice rough.
He didn’t hesitate.
He bit my lip—hard enough to sting, soft enough to thrill. Then he kissed me again, slow, deep, claiming. And when he pulled back, his thumb brushed my lower lip, his voice a dark promise.
“I will.”
Outside, the whispers continued.
But inside—
There was only us.
And the storm that had just begun.