The journal lay open on my lap, its pages trembling with the unsteady rhythm of my breath. I’d read it three times now—every word, every smudged line, every tear-stained margin. My mother’s voice echoed in my skull, raw and aching: *“He tried. They stopped him. Forgive him. Forgive me.”* Not hatred. Not condemnation. Plea. A mother’s final words, not of vengeance, but of mercy.
And I’d come here to burn.
I closed the journal slowly, pressing a hand to the Dusk-mark beneath my collarbone. It still pulsed, warm and insistent, but differently now. Not just pain. Not just magic. Memory. The way Kael’s thumb had stroked the back of my hand during the test. The way his breath had hitched when our thighs touched. The way his voice had dropped when he said, “It’s always been you.”
I didn’t hate him.
Not anymore.
But that didn’t mean I trusted him.
A knock at the door.
“Enter,” I said, voice steadier than I felt.
The door opened. Riven.
He stepped inside, his amber eyes scanning me with quiet intensity. “Emergency Council summons,” he said. “A diplomatic envoy from the Northern Coven was ambushed in the Carpathians. They’re pinned down by rogue witches. Kael’s leading the rescue.”
My pulse spiked. “And?”
“You’re going with him.”
I stared at him. “I’m not part of his guard.”
“You’re his bonded partner,” he said. “The Council insists. For unity. For optics.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then they’ll question the bond again. Declare it unstable. You know what happens then.”
I exhaled sharply. “Of course.”
He handed me a black tactical vest, lined with protective sigils. “Wear this. And the robe. No weapons. Not yet.”
“Yet?”
“If it comes to a fight,” he said quietly, “he’ll arm you.”
I took the vest, fingers brushing the cold sigils. “And if I use it against him?”
He didn’t flinch. Just met my gaze. “Then you’d be a bigger fool than I thought.”
Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
I stood there, the vest heavy in my hands, the journal still open on the bed.
I wasn’t sure I could face him. Not after the test. Not after the way my body had betrayed me, arching into his touch, aching for more. Not after the way the bond had flared red with desire—my desire—on the sigil.
But I had no choice.
I changed into the vest, then pulled on the black ritual robe over it. The fabric was thin, the cut deep, but the sigils hummed faintly against my skin, offering some protection. I tied my hair back, secured the journal in my pocket, and stepped into the corridor.
Kael was already there.
He stood at the end of the hall, silver eyes scanning the archway, his coat catching the dim light like liquid steel. He didn’t look at me when I approached. Didn’t react. But I felt it—the bond tightening, pulling, reaching.
“You read it,” he said, voice low.
Not a question.
“Yes.”
He turned. His expression was unreadable—cold, controlled, impenetrable. But his pulse jumped in his throat. I saw it. Felt it. The bond hummed between us, a live wire strung taut.
“And?” he asked.
“And I don’t know what to believe.”
“Then don’t believe me.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping. “Believe her. Believe her words. Her pain. Her love.”
My throat tightened. “She asked you to protect me.”
“And I failed.”
“You didn’t even know I existed.”
“I searched.” His silver eyes held mine. “Every coven. Every slum. Every whisper of Dusk-blood. For twenty years. And now that I’ve found you—”
“Now that you’ve found me, you’re using me.” I stepped forward, my voice rising. “To get to Cassian. To expose the High Queen. I’m not a person to you. I’m a weapon.”
“You’re more than that.”
“Prove it.”
He didn’t answer.
Just turned, walking toward the transport bay. “We have a mission.”
I followed, boots clicking on stone, the bond pulsing with every step.
The transport was a sleek, obsidian skycar, its surface etched with wind runes that shimmered in the dim light. Riven and two other werewolf guards waited beside it, weapons drawn, faces grim. The air was thick with tension—ozone, blood ink, and something darker. Anticipation.
Kael entered first. I followed, sliding into the seat beside him. The door sealed shut with a hiss, the cabin dimming into silence.
“Buckle in,” he said, not looking at me.
I did, the harness tight across my chest. The bond hummed, a low, insistent thrum. I pressed a hand to the Dusk-mark, willing it to stop. But it didn’t. It never did.
The skycar lifted, silent and smooth, rising through the Spire’s upper levels and into the night sky. Below, the human city glittered like a sea of stars. Above, the moon hung full and silver, casting long shadows across the land.
“Carpathians in twenty minutes,” Riven said from the front. “Ambush site is a ruined temple—witch cultists used it for blood rituals before the Pact. Now it’s a den for rogues.”
“And the envoy?” I asked.
“Three witches,” Kael said. “Neutral affiliation. They were delivering a peace offering to the Council. A truce proposal from the Northern Coven.”
“And they were attacked anyway.”
“Because someone doesn’t want peace,” he said. “Someone wants war.”
“Cassian?”
He didn’t answer. Just looked at me, silver eyes dark. “Stay close. Follow my lead. And if I tell you to run—”
“I won’t,” I said. “I’m not your soldier.”
“You’re my bonded partner,” he said. “And right now, that makes you a target.”
I clenched my jaw. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have dragged me into this.”
“Maybe I should have left you behind,” he said, voice low. “But I didn’t. Because I need you. Not as a weapon. Not as a pawn. As Thunder. The woman who doesn’t break. The woman who fights. The woman who might just be the only one who can stop what’s coming.”
My breath caught.
He didn’t look at me. Just stared out the window, his profile sharp in the moonlight.
And for the first time, I wondered if I’d been wrong about him.
Not entirely.
But enough.
The skycar descended through thick forest, the trees rising like black spears from the earth. The ruined temple came into view—a crumbling stone structure, its pillars cracked, its roof half-collapsed, the air around it thick with dark magic. Flickering torches cast long shadows across the courtyard, where figures moved like ghosts in the dark.
“Rogues,” Riven muttered. “At least a dozen. Armed with cursed blades and blood sigils.”
Kael stood. “We go in quiet. No magic unless necessary. We extract the envoy and get out.”
“And if they don’t want to come?” I asked.
“Then we make them.”
The skycar landed silently in the trees. We exited, weapons drawn, moving through the underbrush with practiced silence. The air was cold, thick with the scent of damp earth and old blood. The bond hummed, a low, insistent pulse—closer now. Stronger.
We reached the courtyard.
The rogues were gathered around a fire, laughing, drinking from silver goblets. Chained in the center of the circle were the three witches—hooded, bound, their faces pale with fear.
Kael signaled. Riven and the guards moved to flank the perimeter.
Then Kael stepped forward.
“Release them,” he said, voice cutting through the night like a blade.
The rogues turned.
One stood—a tall witch with a scarred face and eyes black with power. “Lord Kael,” he sneered. “Come to die with them?”
“I’ve come to end you,” Kael said, stepping forward, his coat flaring like wings.
The rogue laughed. “You’re outnumbered. Outgunned. And you brought a hybrid?” He spat the word like poison. “The Council’s finally showing its true face.”
“She’s not a hybrid,” Kael said, voice low. “She’s Dusk-blood. And if you touch her, I’ll burn you alive.”
The rogue’s eyes flicked to me. “Then let’s see how fast she burns.”
He raised a hand.
A curse blast—black and seething—ripped through the air, aimed straight at me.
I raised my hands, calling fire—but Kael moved faster.
He stepped in front of me, his body a shield.
The curse hit him full in the chest.
There was no sound. No scream. Just a flash of black light, a ripple in the air, and then—
He fell.
Not dramatically. Not in slow motion.
Just collapsed, like a tree cut at the roots, his body crumpling to the stone.
“Kael!”
I dropped to my knees, my hands on his chest. His coat was torn, his skin burned beneath it, the sigils on his vest cracked and smoking. His breath came in shallow gasps. His pulse was weak, thready.
“Stay with me,” I whispered, pressing my hands to the wound. “Don’t you dare die on me.”
His eyes fluttered open. Silver. Dim. But focused on me.
“Worth it,” he murmured.
And then he went still.
“No,” I breathed. “No, no, no—”
The bond screamed.
Not a hum. Not a pulse.
A scream—raw, primal, tearing through me like a blade. Pain. White-hot. In my chest, my throat, my gut. I gasped, clutching at my collarbone, but the Dusk-mark flared, spreading heat across my skin, feeding the agony.
He couldn’t be dead.
He couldn’t.
“Thunder!” Riven’s voice. “We’ve got to move!”
But I didn’t.
I pressed my hands to Kael’s chest, feeling for a heartbeat.
Nothing.
Then—
A faint flutter.
Weak. Fading.
But there.
“He’s alive,” I said, voice shaking. “But not for long.”
“Then carry him,” Riven said. “We’re extracting.”
I nodded, sliding my arms under Kael’s body. He was heavy, but I lifted him, his head lolling against my shoulder. The bond pulsed with every step, a live wire strung between us, feeding my strength, my fear, my need.
We moved through the trees, the guards flanking us, weapons ready. The rogues didn’t follow. Not yet. But they would.
I carried Kael to the skycar, laying him gently in the back. His skin was cold. His breath shallow. The wound on his chest still smoked, the black magic eating through his flesh.
“He needs healing,” I said, turning to Riven. “Now.”
“We’re not equipped,” he said. “We need to get him back to the Spire.”
“He won’t make it.”
“Then do it,” he said. “Use your magic.”
I stared at him. “I can’t. Not without—”
“Without what?”
“Without a sacrifice,” I whispered. “Sigils require blood. Tears. Sexual climax.”
Riven’s eyes darkened. “Then make one.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.” He stepped closer. “Or he dies. And the bond dies with him. And everything he tried to protect—everything your mother died for—dies too.”
I looked down at Kael.
His face was pale. His lips bloodless. His silver eyes closed.
And the bond—gods, the bond—was fading, a dim, dying pulse.
I couldn’t lose him.
Not like this.
Not when I’d just started to believe.
I climbed into the skycar, straddling Kael’s body. My hands trembled as I tore open his coat, exposing the wound—black, seething, the cursed magic spreading like rot.
“What are you doing?” Riven asked.
“Saving him,” I said, voice steady now. “Hold the skycar steady. And don’t you dare look.”
I leaned down, my lips brushing Kael’s ear. “If you die on me,” I whispered, “I’ll never forgive you.”
Then I began to chant.
The sigil formed in the air above his chest—a complex web of runes, glowing faintly silver. It needed power. Blood. Tears. Ecstasy.
I pressed my hands to the wound, feeling the black magic resist. I bit my lip, drawing blood. Let it drip onto the sigil. It flared, but not enough.
Tears came next—hot, silent, falling onto his skin, into the wound. The sigil brightened, but still not enough.
Then—
I unfastened my robe.
Slid my hands beneath my tunic.
And touched myself.
The bond surged.
Heat. Not magic. Need. A deep, primal pull, low in my belly, spreading through my limbs. My breath hitched. My skin burned. The sigil flared—bright, blinding—feeding on my pleasure, my desperation, my love.
I came with a gasp, my body arching, the magic erupting from my hands in a wave of silver light.
It poured into Kael’s wound.
The black magic shrieked, dissolving, retreating.
And then—
He breathed.
Deep. Steady.
His eyes fluttered open.
And the bond—
The bond roared back to life.
“You’re alive,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face.
He reached up, his hand brushing my cheek. “Worth it,” he said again.
And then he smiled.
Not a challenge. Not a victory.
A smile.
And for the first time, I didn’t want to destroy him.
I wanted to keep him.
The skycar lifted, rising through the trees, the Carpathians fading behind us.
I stayed straddling Kael, my hands still on his chest, his blood on my skin, my tears in his wound.
And the bond—
The bond hummed between us, alive, strong, unbreakable.
I had come here to burn.
But now?
Now, I was the one on fire.
And I didn’t want to stop.