Kael didn't trust beauty.
Beauty lied. Smiled while it judged you. Fucked you, then cut your throat.
Seren was beauty. But more than that—she felt wrong. Like a forbidden spell spoken too fluently.
"You're not a witch," Kael said.
"No. I'm worse."
They sat in her lair—an abandoned temple covered in silk and runes. Candles flickered in impossible patterns.
"What are you offering?"
She poured wine that shimmered like moonlight. "A Binding."
He froze. "That's a death sentence without the rite."
She smirked. "Only if you lie during it."
"And if you break the bond?"
"You die screaming. But not before you lose all sensation."
He stared at her. "Why me?"
She leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "Because you're empty, and I want to fill you."
His throat tightened.
"You'll feel every breath I take inside you. Every thought I hide. Every hunger I deny."
"And what do you get?"
She stood, letting her robe drop.
"Access."
To what, he didn't ask.
She kissed him, slow and deep.
He forgot his name.
When they broke apart, her magic pulsed against his skin.
"Do you consent?" she whispered.
"I do."
Then she smiled. And bit his lip.
The Binding had begun.