The first time I truly understood that the bond wasn’t just magic—it was memory—was when I woke with Kaelen’s name on my lips and his scent on my skin, though he’d been gone for hours.
He’d left at dawn.
Not in anger. Not in silence.
With a kiss to my temple, a hand lingering on my waist, a low, rough, “I’ll be back before dusk.”
And I—still half-asleep, still tangled in the sheets we’d ruined the night before—had mumbled something I didn’t remember. Something soft. Something affectionate.
And now, as I sat by the hearth in his chambers, wrapped in one of his heavy wolf-embroidered coats, I couldn’t decide what terrified me more: that I’d said it, or that I meant it.
The fire crackled, casting long shadows across the stone walls. The Obsidian Court was quiet this morning—too quiet. No guards in the corridor. No footsteps. No distant voices. Just the wind howling through the Highlands, the distant cry of a wolf, the slow, steady pulse of the bond beneath my skin.
It was stronger now.
Not just a tether. Not just a curse.
A presence.
I could feel him, even though he was miles away. A warmth in my chest. A rhythm in my blood. A whisper in my mind that wasn’t my own. It didn’t speak. It didn’t demand. It just… was. Like a second heartbeat. Like a shadow I couldn’t shake.
I hated it.
I loved it.
I didn’t know which was worse.
I stood, pacing the length of the room. Ten feet. Back. Ten feet. Back. The bond hummed, satisfied. The curse still held—ten feet was the limit, even within these walls. But I felt him. Felt the tension in his shoulders as he rode with Torin to the Northern Packs. Felt the weight of his thoughts—dark, restless, protective.
And then—
A flicker.
Not pain. Not hunger.
A dream.
It hit me like a wave—sudden, overwhelming, undeniable.
I staggered, clutching the back of the stone chair, my breath coming fast. The room blurred. The fire dimmed. And then—
I was somewhere else.
Dark stone. Silver veins. The scent of pine and storm. Kaelen’s chambers—but not as they were. As they could be. A fire roaring in the hearth. The bed stripped of its ruined sheets, replaced with black silk and wolf furs. And Kaelen—standing by the window, shirtless, his scarred back to me, his golden eyes glowing in the moonlight.
And me.
Not in chains. Not in silence.
In his arms.
Naked. Breathless. marked.
His hands were on my hips, holding me against him, his cock still buried deep inside me. His mouth was on my neck, lips tracing the fresh bite mark he’d just left—thick, deep, permanent. The bond flared, white-hot, blinding, as he came again, his groan vibrating against my skin.
“Mine,” he growled, nipping at the wound. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I gasped, arching into him. “Always yours.”
And then—
His hand slid between my thighs, fingers circling my clit, slow, relentless, driving me toward another climax. I cried out, my body trembling, my inner walls clenching around him. He didn’t stop. Just fucked me deeper, harder, his teeth at my throat, his voice a growl in my ear—
“You’ll never leave me. You’ll never run. You’ll never sing for anyone but me.”
“Never,” I sobbed. “Only you. Only—”
The vision shattered.
I gasped, stumbling back, my hand flying to my neck. The mark there—thorns and fangs, glowing faintly—throbbed in time with my pulse. My skin was slick with sweat. My core ached. My thighs trembled.
It hadn’t been real.
It hadn’t happened.
And yet—
I could still feel him.
Still taste him.
Still ache for him.
“No,” I whispered, pressing my palms to my temples. “It’s not real. It’s the bond. It’s magic. It’s—”
But the denial rang hollow.
Because the dream hadn’t been just a fantasy.
It had been a memory.
Not mine.
His.
I’d seen it in his mind. Felt it in his blood. The way he wanted me. The way he needed me. The way he dreamed of claiming me—not out of duty, not out of control, but out of something deeper. Something raw. Something hungry.
And the worst part?
I wanted it too.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, my breath coming in short gasps. The bond pulsed, low and constant, like a drumbeat in my veins. I could feel him—still riding, still tense, still thinking of me. And I—
I was unraveling.
Not from grief. Not from rage.
From desire.
It wasn’t just the dream. It was everything. The way his hands had felt on my body last night. The way his voice had broken when he said he’d burn the world for me. The way he’d looked at me after I shattered Malrik’s fangs—as if I were something sacred. Something his.
And I—fool that I was—was starting to believe him.
I stood, pacing again. Tried to focus. Tried to remember why I was here. Why I’d come to the Obsidian Court. Not for love. Not for peace.
For revenge.
My mother. The pyre. The lies. The Hybrid Purge. Lysara. Malrik. The Council that had let it all happen.
I was supposed to burn it all down.
And instead—
I was falling in love with the man who’d once been my enemy.
The door opened.
I didn’t turn. Didn’t look. Just kept pacing, my arms wrapped around myself, my breath still unsteady.
“You’re awake,” Kaelen said, his voice low, rough.
I didn’t answer.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Boots heavy on stone. Coat slung over one shoulder. His scent—pine and storm and something darkly male—filled the room, wrapping around me like a promise.
“Symphony,” he said, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, still not looking at him. “Just… thinking.”
“About?”
“Everything,” I said. “Nothing. The bond. The curse. The way you look at me.”
He stilled. “And how do I look at you?”
I turned then, my eyes meeting his. Golden. Glowing. knowing.
“Like I’m yours,” I said. “Like you’d tear the world apart if anyone tried to take me.”
“And would that be so bad?” he asked, stepping into my space. Close. Too close. The bond flared, hot and electric. “You are mine. You always have been.”
“I’m not a possession,” I said, but my voice wavered.
“No,” he said, his hand lifting to my face. His thumb brushed my cheek. “You’re a woman. A rebel. A witch with a voice that can shatter gods. And you’re standing here, trembling, because you’re afraid of how much you want me.”
My breath hitched.
“I’m not afraid,” I whispered.
“Liar,” he said. “You’re terrified. And so am I.”
“Of what?”
“Of this,” he said, his hand sliding to the back of my neck. “Of how much I need you. Of how much I’d lose if I let myself love you too much.”
“Then don’t,” I said, stepping back. “Don’t love me. Don’t want me. Don’t—”
“Too late,” he said, pulling me into his arms. “I already do.”
His mouth crashed into mine—hot, hungry, desperate. Not gentle. Not soft. A collision of lips and teeth and tongues. I didn’t fight him. Didn’t push him away. Just kissed him back—fierce, aching, my hands clawing at his shoulders, my body pressing into his.
The bond roared.
A wildfire in my veins.
His hands slid down my back, gripping my ass, lifting me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my core grinding against the hard ridge of his cock. He groaned into my mouth, his fangs grazing my lip. The mark on my neck flared, hot and bright, as if answering him.
“Kaelen—”
“Say it,” he growled, carrying me to the bed. “Say you want me.”
“I hate you,” I whispered.
He chuckled—low, dark, knowing. “Then hate me while I make you come.”
He laid me down, his body covering mine, his cock pressing against my entrance through our clothes. I arched into him, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps. My hands tugged at his trousers, my fingers trembling.
And then—
A wave of dizziness.
Nausea.
Vertigo.
I gasped, clutching my head. The room blurred. The bond—
It wasn’t just desire.
It was sickness.
“Symphony?” Kaelen’s voice, sharp with concern.
“I’m—” I tried to speak, but another wave hit. Cold sweat. Trembling. My vision darkened at the edges.
“Bond fever,” he said, pulling back. “It’s getting worse.”
“It wasn’t like this before,” I managed.
“It’s stronger now,” he said, stripping off his coat, his boots. “The bond’s feeding on emotion. On memory. On what we did last night.”
“So now I pay?” I said, teeth chattering. “For loving you?”
“We both do,” he said, lying down beside me. “But this—” He wrapped an arm around me, his body heat searing through my thin gown. “—this helps.”
“I don’t want your help,” I said, but I didn’t push him away. Because the cold was receding. The dizziness fading. The bond, satisfied by proximity, was easing the sickness.
“Too bad,” he said, voice low. “You’ve got it.”
I lay there, rigid, my back to his chest, his arm a heavy weight across my waist. His breath stirred the hair at my nape. His heat soaked into my skin. And the bond—damn it—purred, content.
“You don’t get to touch me like this,” I whispered.
“I do,” he said. “Until the curse ends. Or one of us dies.”
“Then I’d rather die.”
“No,” he said, tightening his hold. “You wouldn’t.”
I wanted to argue. To fight. But the sickness was draining me. My limbs felt heavy. My thoughts sluggish. And beneath it all—beneath the anger, the grief, the fear—was something else.
Something I couldn’t name.
“Go to sleep,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
“You don’t get to say that,” I said, but my eyes were already closing.
“I just did,” he said. And then, softer: “And I mean it.”
I didn’t answer.
Because I was already falling.
Not into darkness.
But into him.
I don’t know how long I slept. Hours. Maybe minutes. But when I woke, the world was different.
The fire was out. The room was cold. But I wasn’t. Kaelen’s body was still curled around mine, his arm still around my waist, his breath warm on my neck. And I—
I was holding his hand.
Not just touching it. Holding it. Fingers laced with his, like we’d fallen asleep that way. Like it was natural. Like it was right.
I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.
“Don’t,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “The bond’s still unstable. If you move too far, the sickness will come back.”
“So I’m your prisoner now?” I asked, but there was no heat in my voice. Only exhaustion. Confusion.
“No,” he said. “You’re my responsibility.”
“Same thing.”
“Not to me.”
I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t know what to say. Last night, I’d hated him. I’d wanted to burn him with my voice, to shatter his control, to make him feel the pain I’d carried for ten years.
And I had.
But now? Now I was lying in his arms, holding his hand, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my back.
And I didn’t want to let go.
The realization hit me like a blade.
“This isn’t real,” I said, my voice trembling. “This—us—it’s the bond. It’s magic. It’s not—”
“Feelings?” he asked. “Or choices?”
“Both,” I said. “I don’t want to want you.”
“Then why do you?”
I turned my head. Our faces were inches apart. His golden eyes were open, watching me. Not with dominance. Not with control.
With something softer.
Something that looked like hope.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Maybe it’s not about knowing,” he said. “Maybe it’s about feeling.”
And then—because I was weak, because I was tired, because the bond was screaming in my veins—I did the one thing I knew would break the moment.
I kissed him.
Not gently. Not sweetly.
Hard. Angry. A collision of lips and teeth and pent-up fury. I wanted to hurt him. To punish him. To make him feel the chaos I carried inside.
But he didn’t pull away.
He kissed me back.
One hand tangled in my hair, the other gripping my hip, pulling me onto my back, his body pressing into mine. His mouth was hot, demanding, his fangs grazing my lip. The bond roared—a wildfire in my veins. My hands clawed at his shoulders. My legs tangled with his. The heat was unbearable. The need—
Then the door burst open.
We broke apart, gasping, hearts racing. Torin stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
“Alpha,” he said. “The Council summons you. Now.”
Kaelen didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at me, his breath heavy, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t name.
“I’ll be there,” he said, voice rough.
Torin nodded and left, closing the door behind him.
Silence.
Then Kaelen sat up, running a hand through his hair. “We need to talk.”
“No,” I said, sitting up too. “We don’t.”
“Symphony—”
“That didn’t mean anything,” I said, standing. “It was the bond. The sickness. It—”
“Liar,” he said, standing too. “You wanted it. You kissed me.”
“Because I was angry!”
“And I wasn’t?” he shot back. “You think I don’t feel it? The pull? The fire? The way my wolf howls every time you’re near?”
I didn’t answer. Because I could feel it too. The way my body ached for him. The way my voice trembled when he looked at me. The way the bond pulsed, hungry, insistent.
“This changes nothing,” I said.
“It changes everything,” he said. “And you know it.”
I turned away. “I came here to burn it all down.”
“And I’m here to stop you,” he said. “But not because I want to. Because I have to.”
“Then do it,” I said. “Chain me. Silence me. Whatever it takes.”
He stepped closer. “And if I don’t want to?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I was afraid.
Not of the curse.
Not of the Council.
But of what would happen if he chose me over duty.
If he followed me into the fire.
And I realized—
That was the most dangerous thing of all.
“Get dressed,” he said. “We have a Council to face.”
I didn’t look at him. “And then what?”
“Then,” he said, voice low, “we see if we can survive each other.”
I closed my eyes.
Because I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Not anymore.