For a second, I really think the rooftop might explode.
The spark that jumps between us isn't small, isn't soft, isn't gentle.
It's violent.
The wind roars around us like we're standing in the middle of a storm only we can feel. My hair whips around my face, my heart slams into my ribs, and my magic—normally a low hum—turns into a scream.
Aiden staggers one step back.
Just one.
But the shock in his eyes looks like someone pulled the earth from under his feet.
I don't move at all.
My legs want to shake, but I refuse to let them.
I am a witch on a wolf's rooftop.
I am not allowed to look weak.
The rooftop lights flicker, then steady. The wind calms, leaving only our heavy breathing.
Something ancient has woken up.
Something that should never exist between a wolf and a witch.
"What… was that?" Aiden's voice is low, like he's afraid the air will hear his question.
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. "Energy clash."
"That wasn't just energy." His eyes narrow, stormy grey darkening to a more dangerous shade. "It felt like… a link."
A link.
The word sits heavy in the air between us.
Wolves have a word for links:
bond.
My heart squeezes painfully. "Wolves and witches don't bond."
"Exactly," he says. "Which is why this shouldn't be possible."
I don't say it out loud, but I think the same thing.
Nothing about this is normal.
Nothing about us is normal.
I feel the Moonfire mark on my wrist tingling, like it's laughing at me.
Aiden runs a hand through his hair, frustration written all over his face. For once, he doesn't look like the perfect, cold CEO. He looks… human. Confused. A little lost.
Good.
"Tell me the truth, Liyana." His voice sharpens. "Does this happen with all witches?"
I let out a humorless laugh. "No. If witches could randomly bond with Alphas, your entire world would've burnt down by now."
His jaw clenches.
He knows I'm not wrong.
"Then why you?" he asks.
Because I'm cursed.
Because your bloodline is connected to my nightmare.
Because destiny has a sick sense of humor.
I step closer instead of answering that question directly.
"You keep asking what I am," I say quietly. "Fine. I'll say it clearly this time."
His eyes lock onto mine, intense, unblinking.
"I'm the last Moonfire Witch," I say. "And your bloodline is the reason my family is dead."
The words are sharp, heavy, bloody.
Saying them out loud feels like ripping open an old wound.
Aiden doesn't flinch.
But something in his gaze changes. His pupils dilate, wolf power pressing against his skin like it wants to break out.
His voice drops. "You're sure about that."
"I watched the forest burn," I whisper. "I smelled my pack turning to ash. I heard your father's name on the lips of dying wolves."
Silence.
His hands curl into fists at his sides, knuckles white.
"Moonfire witches," he mutters, almost to himself. "Cursed from birth. Born under a blood moon. Magic that corrupts bonds, controls beasts, burns packs from the inside."
His eyes lift to my face again. "Your kind almost killed my grandfather."
"And your kind actually killed my parents," I shoot back.
The wind picks up again, just a little, tugging at my hair and his.
There it is.
The old hatred.
Wolves vs witches.
Alpha vs curse.
"We shouldn't even be standing this close," I say.
"Then step back," he replies.
"You step back first."
We sound childish, but there's nothing childish in the way our power pushes and pulls at each other—testing, measuring, learning.
He doesn't move.
Neither do I.
Aiden's voice softens in a way I don't expect. "My father never mentioned survivors."
"Because he thought he killed us all," I whisper. "He almost did."
His gaze flicks to my wrist, where the Moonfire mark glows dimly under the skin.
"And now the last Moonfire Witch is in my penthouse. Wearing my name," he says slowly.
"Don't sound so offended," I say dryly. "This was your idea."
"This was business," he snaps.
"Business doesn't usually electrocute rooftops," I point out.
He pauses.
Can't argue with that.
His wolf must be pacing inside him, because his aura ripples around him like heat on the road. I feel it pressing against my magic, testing the boundaries of this… thing between us.
Bond.
Connection.
Whatever it is, I hate that it exists.
"I don't know what happened just now," he admits finally. The honesty surprises me. "But my wolf—" his jaw tightens— "my wolf is reacting to you."
A strange shiver runs down my spine.
"Reacting how?" I ask, even though I'm not sure I want to know.
He takes a breath like the answer physically hurts him.
"It wants to get closer to you," he says. "It wants to scent you. It wants to… mark you."
My lungs forget how to work for a moment.
Mark.
That cursed word.
Wolves mark their mates.
I am not his mate.
I refuse to be his mate.
Fate can go choke on moonlight.
"We're not mates," I say sharply.
"I know that," Aiden snaps back. "If the Moon Goddess had chosen a witch as my mate, she'd be laughing at me from the stars."
"Maybe she is," I mutter.
He almost smiles. Almost.
The slight upward twitch at the corner of his mouth feels dangerous, like a secret I didn't ask to see.
"But a mate-bond isn't the only kind of link," he says.
I inhale slowly. "What are you suggesting?"
He looks right into my soul. "A cursed bond. Something twisted by magic. By your magic."
Anger flares in my chest. "I didn't ask for this."
"Neither did I," he fires back.
The wind picks up again, as if the sky is arguing with us too.
For a few seconds, we just stand there, breathing hard, eyes locked.
Somewhere far below, the city honks and glows and moves like normal people are doing normal things.
Up here, on a cold rooftop, a witch and an Alpha argue about a bond that shouldn't exist.
I look away first.
Because if I keep staring at him, I might forget why I came here.
Revenge.
Justice.
Blood.
"Why didn't you tell me you were Moonfire?" he asks quietly, the anger fading into something closer to… disbelief.
"You only asked what I smell like," I reply. "You never asked who burned your past."
His eyes flash dangerously. "You think this is a joke?"
"No," I say. "I think this is payback."
His wolf energy flares, pushing against me like a storm wind.
"For what?"
"For what your family did," I whisper. "For the children they burned. For the witches they hunted."
Something like pain passes over his face too quickly.
He hides it behind his normal coldness.
"My father did what he thought was necessary to protect the pack," he says.
"And I'll do what I think is necessary to protect what's left of mine," I answer.
"You're alone," he says bluntly.
"So?" I lift my chin. "A spark can still burn a forest."
His gaze sharpens.
He understands the threat.
Good.
He needs to.
We stand there in taut silence for a while, the tension between us buzzing like electricity in the air.
Finally, Aiden sighs, the sound tired and heavy. "Whether we like this or not, something connected us tonight."
"I refuse it," I say immediately.
His lips twist. "Unfortunately, the universe doesn't care what we refuse."
He turns away from me, facing the city again, one hand gripping the metal railing.
"My wolf didn't sleep," he admits quietly. "It kept pacing. Kept asking where you were."
My chest tightens.
"That's not my problem," I say, but my voice comes out softer than I want.
"Maybe not," he murmurs. "But it's becoming mine."
He falls silent again, then says, "The Council felt the fluctuation."
Fear cuts through my magic like a knife. "What?"
"Last night. That spark at the top of the tower?" He gestures loosely at the rooftop. "You and I standing here, throwing power at the moon? It didn't stay only here."
Oh no.
"The Elders called me this morning," he continues. "They're curious. Suspicious. And they want to meet you."
"I'm not a circus animal," I say flatly.
"They think you're human," he reminds me. "For now."
"Let them keep thinking that."
His gaze sharpens. "The Council isn't stupid. They can smell tension. They can smell fear. They can smell when their Alpha has… changed."
"Have you?" I ask quietly.
He doesn't answer right away.
Then: "My wolf has."
Dangerous answer.
Dangerous honesty.
"We're going to BlackMoon Packhouse tomorrow," he says. "You'll be introduced as my wife."
"Contract wife," I correct.
"Do you want to die in front of the Council?" he asks dryly. "Then, yes, let's emphasize the contract."
I roll my eyes. "So what do you expect me to do there?"
"Stay close to me. Don't use your power. Don't provoke anyone. And don't let anyone touch you."
I blink. "Excuse me?"
His jaw flexes. "The bond—or whatever this is—reacted when I touched you. I don't know what will happen if someone else does."
"That's very possessive for a man who 'doesn't love me'," I say sweetly.
The corner of his mouth twitches again. "I'm not being possessive. I'm being cautious."
"Same thing from where I'm standing."
He ignores that.
"Liyana," he says, voice dropping, "listen carefully. The Council doesn't care about you. They only care if you're a threat to me or the pack. If they find out you're Moonfire—"
"They'll try to kill me," I finish for him.
His eyes are flat. "Yes."
A slow, cold smile curves across my lips. "They're welcome to try."
His gaze scans my face, like he's trying to decide if I'm brave or stupid.
"Don't reveal your power," he repeats.
"You just said they'll try to kill me."
"They'll have to go through me first," he says quietly.
I stare at him.
Storm-grey eyes, messy hair, tired face.
This man, whose father burned my pack, is telling me he'll stand between me and his own Council.
"Why?" I whisper.
He doesn't look away. "Because you signed my contract. Because you're my wife. Because my wolf will rip out any throat that threatens you, whether I want that or not."
The bond hums between us again at his words, warm and wrong and terrifying.
I hate it.
I hate that part of me doesn't.
"I don't need your protection," I say, but the words feel weaker this time.
"Maybe not." He shrugs lightly. "But you have it."
He walks past me toward the door.
I watch him, heart beating in a rhythm that doesn't feel entirely mine anymore.
He stops at the doorway, half-turned, his profile framed by the pale morning light.
"Packhouse tomorrow," he says. "Don't be late. And Liyana…"
I raise an eyebrow. "What now?"
His eyes hold mine, unreadable. "Stay away from my room tonight."
I open my mouth to say something sharp, but he adds quietly:
"If you touch me again when the moon rises, I don't know what our bond will do."
He leaves without another word.
The rooftop door closes behind him with a soft click.
I stand alone under the fading moon, mark burning on my wrist, magic waking in my veins.
I should be scared.
Instead, for the first time in eight years…
I feel something dangerous blooming in my chest.
Not love.
Not yet.
Power.
I press my fingers over the Moonfire mark and whisper to the sky:
"Fine then, Alpha King. Let's go meet your pack."