The burning didn't stop.
It wasn't fire in the skin—it was deeper, like my blood had been replaced with something wild and volatile. My heartbeat pounded in sync with something not entirely mine.
I curled up against the cold stone floor, arm cradled to my chest, the slice from Killian's blade still fresh. Every time our blood mixed, something in me pulled tighter.
A bond. A chain. A curse.
And I could feel it now.
His presence.
Even before I looked up, I knew Killian was still standing there, watching me—like a wolf who'd finally cornered his prey but wasn't ready to devour it just yet.
"Get away from me," I said, my voice raw.
"You're feeling it," he said simply. "The tether. It's starting to form."
"I don't want it," I snapped.
He crouched in front of me, arms resting on his knees like he had all the time in the world. "That's not how bonds work."
"I'm not yours."
His lips twitched—just barely. "That's what they all say. At first."
I tried to push myself up, but my limbs felt like they were filled with lead. The glow in the room had dimmed, but the burn inside me hadn't faded. If anything, it had deepened—like a fever fed by moonlight.
"What did you do to me?"
"I started the process," he said. "The mark comes next."
"You already cut me!"
"That was blood binding," Killian said. "It binds our life forces. What's next is... more personal."
I didn't like the sound of that. "No."
"You don't get to say no anymore."
I lunged at him with what little strength I had left, but it was like throwing myself at a mountain. He caught my wrists mid-swing and pinned them effortlessly.
"You're weak," he said. "You're turning. And your body knows it, even if your mouth doesn't."
"Let me go."
"Can't."
"Why?"
He leaned in close, his voice low and guttural. "Because if I don't mark you, someone else will. And they won't be kind about it."
I stilled.
"What... what does marking mean?"
"It means no one else can claim you. It means the bond becomes irreversible. Final. Protected." His eyes narrowed. "You'll carry my scent. My bite. My blood. You'll be mine in every way that matters."
My stomach twisted. "You make it sound like branding cattle."
"No," he said. "I make it sound like truth."
I shook my head, throat closing. "I won't let you do it."
"You already let me do the hardest part," he said. "The moment our blood touched, the choice stopped being yours."
"You said the ritual needed my consent."
He actually smiled. "I said I hoped you wouldn't resist. I didn't say I needed permission."
I wanted to scream, to hit him, to spit every curse I knew in his face. But all I could do was glare—and even that was starting to blur.
"I won't beg," I whispered.
"You don't have to," Killian said.
And then he moved.
Before I could stop him, he lifted me into his arms. I fought, weakly, but his grip was iron.
He carried me like I weighed nothing through a long corridor, carved stone and flickering torchlight spinning around us. I could hear things—howls in the distance, low rumbles in the rock, whispers that may not have been human.
We passed a heavy door carved with runes, and the moment it opened, I felt the air shift.
It was colder here. Cleaner. Sacred.
The chamber inside was circular, with a moonstone altar at the center, surrounded by braziers burning silver fire. Thick furs were spread beneath it—wolf hides, dyed black.
A man waited near the wall, cloaked and hooded, holding something small and sharp in his hand.
"What is this place?" I asked, hating how breathless I sounded.
Killian set me down gently, but held me in place with one hand on my shoulder.
"This is the Marking Hall."
"No."
He ignored me, speaking instead to the cloaked man. "Prepare the final bond."
I tried to run. I made it one step.
Killian caught me. Slammed me back against him, arms like steel bars around my waist.
"Stop fighting me, Seraphina," he growled into my ear.
"I'm not yours!"
"You will be."
He brought his wrist to his mouth.
Bit.
Blood welled up instantly—thicker than human blood, dark and glowing faintly like molten metal. My stomach churned.
He held it to my lips.
"Drink."
I turned my face away.
He grabbed my chin.
"Drink, or the bond breaks violently. You'll go feral. Your mind won't survive it."
I stared at him, tears stinging my eyes, rage and humiliation crawling up my spine like poison ivy.
And then I opened my mouth.
Just a drop.
It burned like swallowing fire.
And the world flipped.
My back arched. My mouth opened in a silent scream. My skin felt too tight, my heart too fast, my blood—wrong. Wrong and changing.
Killian grabbed me before I collapsed.
"Shh," he whispered. "It's almost over."
The floor glowed again. The braziers roared. Somewhere above, the sound of a wolf howling echoed through the stone.
And then—
Everything went still.
The fire didn't end. It multiplied.
The moment Killian's blood touched my tongue, something ancient ripped through me. It wasn't pain like I knew it—it was change, raw and blinding, like every cell in my body was being rewritten.
I collapsed into him, shivering, my muscles spasming. My vision blurred at the edges.
"What… what did you do to me?" I gasped.
He didn't answer immediately. His arms were around me, holding me upright. I hated that I needed his strength to stay on my feet.
"It's not over," he said quietly. "One more step."
"No—no more—"
Killian turned me to face him, his hands cradling my jaw. "You've already been claimed by blood. Now you have to be marked."
I shook my head. "No. I drank. That's enough."
"For anyone else, maybe. But not you."
My voice cracked. "Why not?"
He didn't blink. "Because your blood doesn't just carry a name. It carries power. That makes you dangerous. Desired. Hunted."
"I didn't ask for this."
"None of us do."
He leaned closer.
I flinched. "Don't—"
"You want to survive?" he said, his voice dropping into something guttural, primal. "Then let me finish it."
I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight. I wanted to claw out of this reality and wake up somewhere that didn't smell like smoke and blood.
But I didn't move.
I stood there, panting, trembling, while Killian lowered his head toward my shoulder. His breath was hot against my skin, the tension between us pulling tighter than ever.
"You'll feel it," he said, his lips brushing the curve of my neck. "When I bite. You'll feel the bond seal. You'll feel me in your veins."
I let out a sound—half sob, half defiance—but I didn't stop him.
Because deep down, in the place I didn't want to acknowledge, I knew this was already happening. That the second my father handed me over, the second Killian carried me through that portal, my fate had been rewritten.
Killian's lips grazed my collarbone.
His voice, again: "Breathe."
And then—
Pain. Sharp. Deep. Immediate.
His fangs sank into the place where my neck met shoulder, and I screamed. My whole body arched into him, my hands clawing at his arms, at his coat, at anything I could grab.
I hated him. I hated this.
But my body betrayed me.
Because beneath the pain, there was heat.
A dark, spiraling warmth that spread from the bite outward, curling through my chest, my gut, my thighs. My knees buckled.
Killian held me tighter, his mouth still against my skin, his blood mixing with mine in a bond older than any wedding vow.
When he finally pulled back, his lips were stained crimson, and my shoulder throbbed with a strange, pulsing ache.
"It's done," he said.
I couldn't speak. I was too busy gasping for air, too busy trying to stay upright, too busy hating that something inside me… felt different.
Felt tethered.
"I didn't want this," I whispered.
He cupped my face with one blood-streaked hand. "I know."
"Then why?"
Killian's expression didn't soften. But his eyes did.
"Because you won't survive without it. And whether you believe me or not, Seraphina... I'm trying to keep you alive."
He stepped away.
I staggered back, pressing my hand to the mark on my neck. It pulsed beneath my skin—burning, humming. A living thing.
"I can feel you," I said, horrified.
He nodded. "And I feel you."
"I want it gone."
"You can't undo a mark," he said. "Not without dying. And even then…"
His voice trailed off.
"What now?" I asked bitterly. "Am I your slave? Your wife? Your pet?"
"You're my mate," he said calmly. "By law. By blood. By the bond."
"You don't even know me."
"I don't have to," Killian said. "The blood chose. The mark sealed it."
I wanted to slap him. I wanted to claw the mark off my skin. I wanted to burn the world that let this happen to me.
Instead, I sank to my knees.
He didn't stop me. He stood silent as I sat there, shaking, choking on everything I couldn't say.
The robed attendant finally spoke. "She'll need rest. The bond fever will last hours. Possibly days."
Killian nodded. "Prepare a chamber. Guard her. No one enters unless I say so."
I shot him a glare. "So I'm your prisoner now?"
"You're under protection."
"Same thing."
He walked toward the door.
"Killian," I called.
He stopped but didn't turn around.
"You said I'm yours now," I said quietly. "So what happens when I decide I don't want to be?"
He was silent for a long time.
Then he said, without looking back, "Then you'll have to become strong enough to challenge me. And win."
The door shut behind him with a final, echoing thud.
And I was alone with the burn in my blood, the bite on my skin, and the awful, terrifying truth:
I belonged to the Alpha of the Shadowfang Pack.
And there was no going back.