Chapter Five: The Pull of Fire
I make it three steps into the corridor before I hear Ivy's footsteps behind me. Soft. Careful. Determined.
I don't turn, but she falls into step anyway, her sleeve brushing mine, a closeness that feels wrong. Misplaced.
Like a habit we no longer have the right to share.
"You shouldn't be here," I say quietly.
"I know," she whispers. "But I'm not letting you face him alone."
Him.
The word tastes like ash, as if speaking it aloud might summon him faster.
I don't argue. Arguing takes energy I no longer have.
But even as I walk, every part of me is pulling toward him. The bond flickers beneath my skin, thread by thread, tightening with every step.
My pulse hammers. My breath catches.
I want to reach for him. To touch him. To make him see me not as a threat, not as a pawn, but as something dangerous and alive.
Something his.
The doors to the hall stand open. Light spills out, sharp and cold, reflecting off polished stone and iron banners bearing the sigil of Ebonvale. Wolves carved in black relief stare down from the walls, eyes catching torchlight, almost alive.
Kael stands at the center of the hall.
Not seated. Never seated.
He anchors the room, a force that bends everything toward him. Nobles straighten instinctively. Servants shrink back. Even the air feels tighter.
My parents stand near a far column, carefully positioned between two of Kael's guards. Not prisoners exactly, but not free.
My father's jaw is clenched so tightly I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
My mother's hands are clasped in front of her, knuckles white, fingers trembling.
They look small. Diminished.
Nothing like the people who calmly discussed my disposal over wine the night before.
My father's eyes find mine across the hall. For a brief moment, something flickers there, guilt? Regret?
No.
Fear.
Not for me. For what this alliance might cost them if it went wrong.
Good.
Kael's gaze snaps to me. Not recognition. Assessment. Measurement.
"You're late," he says. Calm. Unraised.
The hall stills.
"I was summoned," I reply evenly. "Not informed of urgency."
A flicker passes through his eyes, interest. Intrigue. Something sharp.
Ivy shifts beside me. I feel it immediately. Her fear. Her hesitation.
And beneath it all, my own heart lurches as the bond tightens, responding to him even from here. The invisible thread pulls taut.
I'm aware of him not just by sight, but by presence,in the pressure of the air, in the way the floor itself seems to tilt toward him.
He ignores Ivy completely.
"Come forward," he orders.
I step ahead. Ivy hesitates, her gaze flickering to mine.
I give her none of the comfort she expects. Not now. Not when every instinct is screaming to go to him, to let the bond claim me.
Kael glances at her once. Just long enough to weigh her.
"Did I invite you?" he asks.
"No, Alpha. I only—" Her voice falters.
"Leave," he says flatly.
She looks at me.
I meet her eyes for the briefest moment. Then I step forward again.
"I said leave," Kael repeats, his tone lethal. "Unless you wish to test how forgiving I am this morning."
She retreats. The doors close behind her.
Silence falls, heavy, complete.
Kael's attention sharpens, centering on me.
He doesn't speak at once. Instead, he circles me slowly, deliberate. His gaze sweeps over me, not with lust, but with the cold appraisal of someone assessing an acquisition.
The bond flares with every step he takes closer.
Finally, he stops in front of me.
"You signed the contract," he says.
"Yes."
"Do you understand what it means?"
I lift my chin. "A marriage. A political alliance."
His eyes narrow. "Is that what they told you?"
I don't answer.
He steps closer, close enough that I feel his heat, the bond screaming for proximity.
"I'll ask you once," he says quietly, for my ears alone. "Are you willing to do this?"
He leans in, lips near my ear. The bond sings.
"Because once you follow me back to my pack, you're mine," he continues. "Not theirs. Not your family's. Mine."
My heart thunders.
"There will be no going back. No visits. No letters. No refuge if you change your mind."
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes.
"So I'm giving you one chance to refuse. Right now. In front of everyone."
The hall is silent. Every eye on us, though none can hear his words.
"If you say no," he murmurs, "I'll walk away. Your family can face whatever consequences they've earned on their own."
A pause. Heavy. Deliberate.
"But if you say yes…" His fingers brush my jaw, barely a touch, yet the bond flares violently. "Then you belong to me. Completely. Without question. Without escape."
I feel my parents' eyes on me. Their desperation. Their silent prayers.
I think of Ivy, safe in her room. Of the overheard conversation. Of twenty-three years spent being useful.
Even if I want to back out, what is the point? The place I called home has already discarded me.
I meet Kael's gaze. Dark. Hungry. Dangerous.
"Yes," I whisper.
Something shifts in his expression. Not satisfaction, something deeper
Possessive.
"Good."
He steps back, addressing the hall.
"The marriage is accepted. The contract binding."
My father clears his throat. "Alpha Cinderclaw, if we might discuss the terms—"
"No."
The word cuts through the hall like a blade.
"The terms were set when you made your offer," Kael continues coolly. "I have accepted. There is nothing to discuss."
"With respect," my mother says carefully, "the agreement was for a symbolic union. Political only. The girl would remain—"
"The girl," Kael interrupts, "is my wife. She goes where I go. Stays where I say. Answers to me alone."
My mother pales. "But we understood.."
"I don't care what you understood." His contempt is withering. "Your daughter signed the contract. Vocally. Publicly. Witnessed."
He gestures to the nobles.
"Any objections will be noted as breach."
My father's hands clench. "We would never—"
"Then we have no problem."
Silence stretches.
"When might we expect her to visit?" my father asks weakly.
"You won't."
Final. Absolute.
"No visits. No correspondence. No contact," Kael continues. "She is mine now."
"She's still our daughter—" my mother begins.
Kael laughs softly. "Is she?"
The question hangs. My mother falls silent.
"You had twenty-three years to say whatever you wished to her," Kael adds.
"Leave. While I'm still generous."
"And if we refuse?" my father asks.
Kael smiles. Sharp. "Then I'll have this conversation with your other daughter instead."
"Ivy," he adds casually. "The real heir."
Silence.
Defeat.
"We understand," my mother whispers.
"Good. Get out of my sight."
The doors close behind them.
A servant approaches with wine. His hands shake. A drop spills.
Kael's head tilts.
"Carelessness," he says quietly.
One motion. Clean. The servant collapses.
Kael turns back to me.
"You healed me last night," he says softly. "Without knowing who I was."
"Yes."
"You offered yourself for others."
"Yes."
He studies me.
"You are either very foolish," he murmurs, "or very dangerous. Either way, I will enjoy finding out."
I lift my chin. "You haven't killed me yet."
A pause.
"Don't mistake restraint for mercy," he says. "Your life belongs to me now."
The bond hums—danger, heat, hunger.
"Prepare the inner quarters," Kael orders. "The bride remains."
Then, calmly:
"Lock her in. Post guards inside."
As the doors close, the thread between us tightens, taut, unbroken.
And I know, with terrifying clarity:
Tonight, he will come for me.
And I will let him.