Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
KAEL
T he walk back to my chambers is cloaked in silence, the kind that crackles with unspoken words. Sable trails behind us, her footsteps measured but reluctant, as if she’s already plotting her next escape. Torin strides beside her, practically vibrating with unspent energy, while Finn hangs back slightly, his sharp gaze flicking between us, always calculating.
When we reach the door, I push it open and step inside first. The fire has burned low in the hearth, casting faint orange glows across the room. Sable hesitates for a moment, but Torin nudges her in with a smirk that does nothing to settle the tension. Finn follows, closing the door firmly behind us.
Sable plants herself near the fireplace, her arms crossed, her chin lifted defiantly as if daring one of us to speak first. Torin, of course, obliges.
“Well, that was fun,” he says, his grin stretching wide as he leans casually against the wall. “Do you always have to make such a scene, kitten? Or is it just for us?”
Her glare snaps to him, her lips curling in a sneer. “Do you always have to act like a lunatic? Or is that just for me?”
Finn huffs a quiet laugh, but Torin’s grin only widens. “Oh, I like this one,” he says, turning to me. “She’s got claws. I can’t wait to see how sharp they are.”
“Enough,” I bark, my voice cutting through the room. I turn my focus to Sable, who meets my gaze with fire in her eyes. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“What was I thinking?” she snaps, stepping forward, her voice rising. “I was thinking about getting away from you, you arrogant bastard. What do you expect me to do? Sit here and play nice while you keep me prisoner?”
“You’re damn right I expect you to play by our rules,” I growl, taking a step closer. “Do you have any idea how reckless you were? You could’ve been killed.”
“Maybe that’s better than being here with the lot of you,” she bites out, her chin lifting in defiance. “Why should I care about your rules? I’m not part of your twisted little world.”
Torin lets out a low whistle, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “She’s fiery, isn’t she? Careful, Alpha, or she might actually singe you.”
“Torin,” I snap without looking at him, my patience wearing thin. “Out. Finn, take him with you.”
Torin straightens, his grin turning sharp. “Let me know how her claws feel,” he says with a wink before sauntering toward the door. Finn gives me a pointed look, as if asking whether I’m sure about this, but I wave him off. They leave, the door shutting with a finality that makes the room feel impossibly smaller.
The moment we’re alone, I turn back to her. “You don’t get it, do you?” I say, my voice low and dangerous. “ This isn’t a game. You don’t make the rules here, Sable. We do.”
Her hands curl into fists at her sides, and she takes a step closer, the defiance in her eyes burning brighter. “Then maybe you should’ve left me in the snow,” she snaps. “Because I don’t give a damn about your rules, Kael. I’m not one of you, and I never will be.”
My patience snaps, the last thread fraying as her defiance sets every nerve in my body alight. Before I fully register my own movements, I stride toward her with purpose, my boots striking the stone floor with a deliberate rhythm that echoes in the charged silence.
Sable steps back instinctively, her glare unyielding but her body betraying her—tiny, defensive movements that scream self-preservation. I can see her chest rise and fall as she breathes quicker, matching the erratic beat of my own pulse.
“You think you can keep testing me?” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. “You’re playing a game you don’t know the rules to, little huntress.”
She backs up again, her shoulder brushing against the wall behind her, and I see the realization dawn in her eyes—there’s nowhere else to go. Still, she doesn’t flinch. Her chin tilts upward, a challenge in the set of her jaw, even as I close the final distance between us.
I plant my hand against the wall near her head, the muscles in my arm flexing as I cage her in. The firelight casts dancing shadows across her face, illuminating the defiance in her expression. Her lips part slightly, but the flame in her eyes doesn’t falter. If anything, it burns hotter, a silent rebellion that dares me to push further.
“You don’t scare me,” she says, though her voice wavers just slightly, betraying the tension coiled in her frame.
I lean closer, my breath brushing against her skin. “No?” I murmur, my tone a dangerous whisper. “Then why are you backing away?”
Her throat works as she swallows hard, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she presses herself further into the wall, as though trying to escape the inevitable. The faint scent of her—wild, electric—mixes with the heat radiating off her skin, and I can feel the pull of her defiance like a physical thing. It tugs at something primal in me, something dark and unyielding.
My free hand brushes the side of her waist, deliberate and slow, and I watch her reaction like a predator gauging its prey. Her breath hitches, just barely, and I can’t stop the smirk that curves my lips.
“You don’t scare me,” she repeats, her voice firmer this time, but there’s an edge of something else there now—uncertainty, or maybe anticipation.
“I should.” My voice drops to a low growl. “You’re not leaving. No matter how hard you try, no matter what you do, you’ll never escape.”
Her breath catches, but the defiance remains. “I hate you.”
“Good,” I bite out. My resolve is crumbling, the line between anger and desire blurred. The scent of her fills my senses, and my hand moves of its own accord, brushing against her throat. She flinches slightly, but instead of pulling away, she holds her ground, her chest heaving as my fingers tighten just enough to make her pulse quicken.
“I said I hate you,” she whispers, but there’s a tremor in her voice that betrays her, and it sends a thrill through me.
“Do you?” I murmur, my voice dipping into a dangerous whisper as I lean closer, the space between us almost nonexistent. My powers stir within me, unfurling like a predator testing the air for prey. A part of me knows what I’m about to do, recognizes the significance, the weight of it—but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.
The energy seeps from me, invisible tendrils reaching toward her. It’s instinctive, primal, as if some unseen force is urging me forward. My powers snake around her wrist, slow and deliberate, testing her as much as myself. There’s no resistance. Instead, they grip her, pulling her closer, and I feel something within me lock into place, an undeniable pull.
This is the binding.
A warlock’s bond is no trivial thing. It’s a mark of permanence, of inescapable connection, used only in the rarest of circumstances—between those who trust implicitly, or those who can’t escape each other’s gravity. My mind screams at me to stop, to pull back before the act becomes irreversible, but my body betrays me, compelled by something far older and darker than logic. I grit my teeth, fighting the war within myself even as I let the magic flow.
Her gasp pierces the air, sharp and raw, and I feel it reverberate through me like a strike to the chest. There’s pain in the sound, yes, but it’s layered with something else. Something warmer. Something heady. The connection snaps into place, sudden and absolute, and I feel the searing brand burn into both our wrists. The sensation is a clash of agony and ecstasy, a white-hot tether that binds us in ways I don’t fully comprehend.
I groan low in my throat as the first flickers of her essence begin to seep through the bond—a faint hum at the edge of my senses, like an echo of her emotions. Fear. Anger. And beneath it all, a pulsing undercurrent of desire that she hasn’t yet acknowledged. It makes my blood run hotter, my control hanging by a thread.
The light fades, and I glance down at our wrists. A dark, intricate band circles hers now, the design delicate yet unyielding. It looks like vines twisted with thorns, each curve etched with the faintest glow of residual power. I lift my own wrist and find the same mark mirrored there, a permanent reminder of what I’ve just done.
“What did you do?” she breathes, her voice shaky but laced with a sharp edge. Her wide eyes flick to the mark on her wrist, then back to me, suspicion and confusion warring in her gaze.
I take her wrist gently, turning it so she can see the full extent of the mark. “Nothing you didn’t consent to,” I say, my voice low and steady, the faintest smirk tugging at my lips as her brows furrow in disbelief.
“What the hell are you talking about?” she demands, trying to pull her arm back, but I hold firm, the warmth of her skin sparking against my palm.
I lean closer, my voice dropping to a near-growl. “The binding only works if both parties consent. Somewhere, deep down, you wanted this. You wanted to be tied to me. To us.”
Her breath catches, her body tense beneath my touch. I let my thumb trace the edge of the mark, feeling the faint hum of the bond pulse between us like a heartbeat. My powers stir again, testing the connection, and I feel her shudder, whether from anger or something else entirely, I can’t say.
“This is madness,” she whispers, her voice breaking slightly.
I meet her gaze, the weight of the binding settling over me. “No, little huntress. This is inevitability.”