The moon hung silver over the fortress of Blackthorne, its glow spilling through tall windows, softening the rough-hewn stone and painting Dominic's chambers in shadows. Seraphina lay awake in the enormous bed that had become more of a prison than a sanctuary. The silken sheets whispered against her skin as she shifted restlessly, her body humming with the strange ache that never left her now—the ache of the bond.
It was insidious. A tether tying her to Dominic whether she wanted it or not. His scent lingered everywhere in this room, woodsmoke and storm, and it curled into her lungs like a drug she couldn't shake. Even in his absence, she felt him.
And yet, he refused her.
The door opened with a creak, and Seraphina's heart leapt before she could stop it. Dominic entered, broad shoulders framed in moonlight, his dark hair tousled as though he had been fighting his own demons. His eyes, sharp and molten, flicked to her in the bed before sliding away, his jaw tightening.
"You're awake," he muttered.
"I could say the same," she replied coolly, forcing herself to sit upright. The thin nightdress she wore slipped against her skin, and she noticed his gaze falter before he tore it away.
He moved toward the hearth, tossing wood into the embers. Sparks flared, throwing light across his sculpted face. "You should sleep."
Her laugh was soft, brittle. "Sleep doesn't come easily when one shares a bed with a ghost of a husband."
That struck him. She saw the twitch in his jaw, the way his hands stilled for a moment. He did not answer, and the silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
Finally, Seraphina spoke again, her voice quieter, vulnerable despite her pride. "Why do you fight it so? The bond. Me."
Dominic turned then, his eyes burning with conflict, his wolf surging close to the surface. "Because it was never supposed to be you."
The words lanced through her chest. She held his gaze, refusing to let him see the way it cut her. "Fate rarely asks what we prefer."
The air crackled, charged, as though the room itself held its breath. Dominic took a step toward her, then another, until he loomed at the edge of the bed. His hands gripped the carved posts, his body caging her without touching. His scent wrapped around her, and her pulse hammered in her throat.
"Do you think I don't feel it?" he growled, voice low and rough. "Every time you breathe, every time you move—I feel it. This curse pulling me to you. It burns me alive."
Seraphina swallowed, her lips parting. Her own body betrayed her, leaning closer, craving the touch he withheld. "Then stop fighting."
For a heartbeat, she thought he would. His gaze dropped to her mouth, his breath ragged. The bond pulsed, a living thing, begging for completion. His hand lifted, hovering just above her cheek.
Then—he wrenched himself back with a snarl, pacing across the room like a caged beast. "No. If I give in, I lose. And I will not lose."
The rejection hit like cold seawater crashing over her. She bit her lip, dragging the sheets around herself, masking the way her body trembled. "Then perhaps you've already lost. Because you fight what you cannot conquer."
His growl shook the air, but beneath it, there was something else—fear. Not of her, but of himself.
---
The following morning, court life continued its cruel games.
Lyanna had not relented. The werewolf princess had taken to shadowing Seraphina in subtle ways, always smiling sweetly while her words dripped venom.
That day, Lyanna arranged for a "demonstration" in the training yard. Wolves sparred, muscles slick with sweat, steel flashing in the sun. Seraphina stood at the edge, her gown trailing in the dirt, a token Luna watching wolves who would never truly respect her.
Lyanna approached with a false smile, her scarlet gown cut scandalously low. "My Queen," she purred, loud enough for the gathered crowd to hear. "Surely you must be impressed by such displays of strength. After all, your kind isn't known for… battle."
Laughter rippled among the warriors.
Seraphina's fingers curled at her sides, nails biting into her palms. She forced a calm smile. "And yet, my kind has ruled the seas for centuries without kneeling to anyone. Tell me, Princess, how long have you been waiting for an Alpha to notice you?"
The laughter turned sharp, some even gasping. Lyanna's face darkened, her composure slipping.
Before the princess could retort, Dominic's voice cut through the yard. "Enough."
All eyes turned. He stood at the edge of the ring, his presence silencing even the boldest. His gaze swept over the crowd, then landed on Lyanna. "Is this how you honor your Luna? With petty games?"
The warriors lowered their eyes. Lyanna flushed, but she dipped her head in mock submission. "Of course not, my Alpha. I only meant—"
"Leave us."
The command in his tone brooked no argument. Lyanna curtsied stiffly, venom burning in her eyes, before retreating with her entourage.
Seraphina stared at Dominic, startled. It was the first time he had defended her in public.
He approached her, his hand brushing the small of her back as he guided her away from the watching eyes. The touch was brief, almost accidental—but it seared through her skin like fire.
---
That night, the tension snapped.
Seraphina stood before the mirror in their chamber, brushing her long dark hair. The gown she wore was simple, her shoulders bare, the moonlight painting her in silver. She could feel him behind her before she even heard his footsteps—the bond pulling her awareness to him like a tide to the moon.
Their eyes met in the mirror. His were molten, his chest rising and falling as though he'd been running.
"You shouldn't let her bait you," he said at last, his voice low.
She set the brush down, turning to face him. "And you shouldn't let her get away with it."
His lips twitched, a dangerous almost-smile. "You're fire, Seraphina. I didn't expect that."
"Did you think me weak?" she asked, tilting her head, sea-blue eyes challenging him.
"I thought you a pawn." His gaze raked over her, dark and hungry. "But you're something else entirely."
The air thickened. She took a step toward him, then another, until only a breath separated them. Her hand lifted, brushing his chest lightly through his shirt. His muscles tensed under her touch, but he didn't move away.
"Dominic," she whispered, the name tasting like forbidden fruit.
His control shattered. In a single motion, he seized her waist, dragging her flush against him. His mouth crashed to hers, hot and punishing, as though years of restraint broke in that instant. She gasped against him, her hands clutching at his shoulders, the bond roaring like fire through her veins.
The kiss deepened, wild, consuming. His tongue claimed her mouth, his hands roaming her curves as though he could not get enough. She melted against him, the ache that had haunted her finally finding release in his touch.
But just as suddenly, he broke away, breathing hard, his forehead pressed to hers. "Damn it… this bond. It will destroy us."
Seraphina's lips trembled, swollen from his kiss. "Or it will save us."
His growl was low, primal, torn between desire and denial. He cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek with unexpected tenderness. "You'll be the end of me, little siren."
And yet, he kissed her again.
---
By the time they finally parted, both shaking, the moon had climbed high. Dominic pulled away, running a hand through his hair, as though furious with himself. But the bond had tightened. There was no denying it anymore—their souls were tangled, and neither could break free.
For the first time since the marriage, Seraphina lay in bed with hope flickering in her chest. He had kissed her. He had wanted her.
But as sleep claimed her, a shadow lingered at the edge of her thoughts. Lyanna would not accept defeat so easily. And when she struck again, it would not be with words.