That night, Kael dragged her into the shadows of the den, his fury simmering beneath his skin.
"You cannot stand before them like that," he growled, his green eyes blazing. "You make them doubt me. You make them look to you instead of me."
Aradia's breath caught. "I never meant—"
"You are mine," he cut in, his voice low, dangerous. "Not theirs. Not the shadow's. Mine."
Her fire flared, her body trembling as she met his burning gaze. "Then show me."
The bond snapped taut between them. His mouth crashed against hers, his kiss fierce, consuming, his hands gripping her as though he would never let go. He pressed her into the furs, his body heavy, his heat overwhelming.
Her fire surged in answer, licking across their skin, but Kael did not fear it. He claimed it, embraced it, until the flames bent to him.
When she cried his name, it was not submission. It was surrender—to him, to herself, to the bond that tied them across centuries.
And when he whispered against her ear, his voice raw and rough, she knew the truth of it: "Witch. Queen. Mate. Mine. Always."