Chapter 10 Raiden
TEN
RAIDEN
The bond beats low beneath my skin, steady, coiled like a snake ready to strike.
I’ve been ignoring it for the past hour.
Or trying to. Nothing could have prepared me to be Veilbond to the clearly not human girl with the sky blue eyes and a pert little nose.
And curves that make my fucking mouth water.
When I felt the tether snap into place, it took everything in me to let her walk out of there with Kael.
The urge to protect her even then nipped at my heels.
“Tsukino, you good?”
I glance up, forcing my shoulders loose. One of the other shifters, Loki, grins across the table, his dinner untouched in front of him.
“Fine.” The word comes out flatter than I intend.
Too late to fix it. Because in the next breath, the bond flares. Heat. Cutting, bright—rolling through my chest and stomach—not mine. Hers. And the sensation that follows of lips, contact, breathless heat, hits like a punch straight to the chest. My jaw locks.
Loki keeps talking, oblivious. A couple others laugh, leaning into the conversation. I barely hear them. Because I can feel her. Someone else’s mouth on hers. My pulse spikes, ears ringing.
The kitsune inside me snarls, the instinct sharp and primal—take, claim, no one else can have her. I shove it down. Hard. What the fuck? My fingers curl tight around the edge of the table.
“Tense much?” Adeline’s elbow nudges my side. “You spacing out or just bored?”
“Neither.” My voice is a growl under the words.
But the bond throbs again, soft this time, almost…pleased. My gut twists. I drag in a breath, trying to level it. This is why I didn’t want the damn bond. Because I can feel everything now.
And pretending I don’t care? It’s getting harder by the second.
I drag in another breath, trying to level it. It barely helps. Because through the bond, another pulse rolls through me.
Contact. Comfort. Someone’s hands on her.
Not mine.
I grind my teeth, shoulders knotting tighter.
Beside me, Adeline shifts closer, the faint scent of lilac and frost drifting with her. One slender arm brushes mine as she leans in, elbow propped on the table, chin resting lightly in her palm—like we’re just friends sharing a joke and not sitting in a pressure trap laced with magic.
“You sure you’re fine?” she purrs. “You look... distracted.”
I don’t answer. Because I am distracted.
Because someone on the other end of the tether is flaring with emotion again—and I feel all of it. Sharp and hot, and nowhere to put it.
Across the table, Loki chuckles, completely oblivious. “You’d think someone in a fresh Veilbond would be a little more relaxed.”
I shoot him a warning look, but he only smirks wider. The kind of smirk that says he thinks he’s being funny, not that he knows he’s one breath from me snapping.
“I told you both so you wouldn’t do something reckless,” I bite out. “Not so you could... comment.”
Because yeah, I told them. I didn’t want them pushing her or throwing unstable magic in her direction without knowing what she is. It was a precaution. A necessary one. Loki can be an ass when he thinks he’s being funny.
But now, watching Adeline inch closer, watching Loki grin like he’s trying to be clever, I regret it. Because they’re not taking it seriously. And I can feel her reacting to something I can’t see.
Adeline's fingers trace slow, idle circles on the table between us, nails glinting faintly with runic polish, laced with at least eight spells that I can count. All subtle. All intentional.
“I hear Veilbinds can be intense,” she says softly, eyes glittering. “Maybe you need a better distraction.”
Another surge slams through the tether. Lindsay. Someone’s touching her. Calming her. Too close. The sound that rumbles low in my chest is nearly a growl. I shove back from the table hard, chair scraping against the floor.
Adeline’s brows lift, amused. Loki blinks up at me. I don’t care. The bond pulls taut as wire, dragging me toward her, fast and sharp. I let it.
The bond coils tighter the closer I get—like a leash yanking hard against my ribs. It took a while to snap into place fully, but now that it has, I can’t ignore her, even when she is clearly halfway across campus.
Cutting across the darkening landscape, I follow the link between us, letting it lead me with the precision not even my nose could manage at this distance.
Yanking the library door open, I step inside, sniffing the air for her scent.
It’s faint, but I follow it toward the back of the library and down two flights of stairs.
I stalk through the lower wings, boots silent on the worn stone.
And then I catch a faint trace of her scent, her presence, pulling me deeper than she should be.
The Restricted Archives.
Too far.
My jaw tightens.
Shit.
She shouldn’t be here.
The wards in this section are half-feral—old magic layered by a dozen generations of paranoid spell casters.
Unstable artifacts hum with residual power on the shelves.
Spells that have been banned, bindings that were never fully severed.
Blood-inked grimoires, summoning rings etched into the floors that can’t be fully scrubbed out.
There’s a sealed corridor two levels down with residue from a failed lower demon containment—black scorch marks still spidering across the ceiling. No one with ungrounded magic should come within ten feet of that corridor, let alone her.
And someone let her wander in here?
Or worse—no one stopped her.
The bond pulses again. Warm. Pleased. That damn soothing contact she doesn’t even know she’s projecting. Like she feels safe here.
My hands curl into fists. She’s not.
I round the last row on instinct, steps fast and clipped, and stop cold.
There they are.
Nolan Porter’s hand wrapped lightly through hers, her posture soft, relaxed. She leans toward him, a half-smile curling her lips. They’re seated too close. Too familiar.
The sight hits low and hard—white-hot instinct snarling through my chest. Every part of me wants to reach out and yank her back. Put her somewhere safe. Somewhere away from him.
Nolan startles first. His head snaps up, and the color drains from his face. He drops her hand like it scorched him. Lindsay jerks, eyes going wide. Mira squeaks and shrinks half behind a book.
I step into the circle of light, my foot falls scuffing against the stone in my haste.
I don’t slow.
“Apparently, I’m here to protect you from yourself.”
The words land hard.
Lindsay straightens, shoulders back, chin up. Blue eyes blazing.
“Excuse me?” she snaps, defensive already.
Good.
Let her be pissed. Better that than letting her guard down in a place like this—surrounded by spell traps and shadow-inked tomes that would kill her before she even felt the spell sink into her veins.
I shift my gaze to Nolan, who’s still frozen—wide-eyed and silent.
“You know better than this,” I say coldly.
He flinches. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
He’s a good guy. I know that. I do. He wouldn't put her in danger on purpose. But still, he did. And right now, that’s all I see.
Lindsay shoves to her feet, shoulders squared. “Don’t talk to him like that. He was helping me.”
The bond surges hot between us, pure fire as her pulse drives straight through it, her own anger sparking down the tether.
I feel it. Every beat. Every breath. And my control slips, fast. Before thought catches, my hand closes around her arm—solid, unyielding.
She gasps as I pull her forward, away from Nolan, out of the circle of lamplight—toward me. The bond coils tighter, thrumming with approval beneath my skin.
I barely register Mira’s sharp intake of breath or Nolan’s aborted move to rise. All I see is Lindsay, glare cutting, breath coming fast.
I lower my voice, each word measured, cutting clean between us, “You don’t understand what you’re playing with. And I’m done watching you stumble through it.”
Lindsay wrenches against my grip.
“Let. Me. Go.”
Her voice rings through the narrow space, color high in her cheeks with her irritation.
The bond lashes back, heat spiraling through me, instinct driving hard beneath the surface. She’s feeding it without knowing. Every pulse of her anger draws it tighter. Pulls us closer together.
I hold steady. Refusing to hurt her, but not giving an inch. Contain it. Keep her grounded.
“Fight me all you want,” I say lowly. “It won’t stop what’s happening. The bond answers instinct. And right now—” I pull her a fraction closer, breath uneven, “your actions are telling me I have to protect you.”
Across the table, Mira’s eyes go wide. Her lantern flickers between her hands.
Nolan pushes up fast this time. “Raiden—stop. She wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
His eyes flick to the glow under her sleeve, then to my grip. And something shifts in his face. Like he feels it too now. The pull.
The tether coils harder, the pressure building beneath my skin. My own pulse thunders back through it—heat, strain, the fierce drive to take her out of this room, away from all of it. But I don’t move. I keep hold, jaw clenched, every muscle wired tight.
I can’t trust what happens if I let go.
The bond pulses hot—too fucking hot—surging between us in a rush that makes my grip tighten.
She fights again, twisting her body, breath ragged.
I’m not worried about her hurting me. I’m worried I’ll hurt her.
Not with fists. With the bond. With the things it wants me to feel. With what it’s trying to become.
It only feeds it more, burning through my veins now, demanding action. I can’t hold it here. Not in front of them. Before I think, my body moves faster than her next breath. I drag her away from her friends, grip firm on her arm.
Mira gasps. Nolan’s chair scrapes hard behind us.
With a snap of my fingers, I create a fang flare that sparks out in front of us, brighter than the light we are leaving behind.
She gasps, tugging back. But I’m already moving—through the nearest side passage, feet silent on stone, pulse hammering behind my ribs.
She fights me the whole way, yanking against my hold and snarling useless threats at me.
The bond feeds on it, drawing tighter with every step.
It’s not until we reach the darkened hall—bare stone, no witnesses, low runes flickering weakly overhead—that I stop. I let the fang flare die, casting us in shadows.
Slowly, I press her back against the wall, one forearm braced beside her head, the other still gripping her arm. Her chest rises and falls fast, her eyes wild, lips parted.
I'm too close. Not close enough.
The bond thrums hard enough to drown out thought—pulse after pulse driving straight through me. And instinct—not thought—wins.
Before I can stop myself, I dip my head, lips brushing her collarbone, and nip her hard enough to get her attention.
A quick, fierce press of teeth. To claim. To make her submit.
The instant it lands—horror crashes through me.
What the fuck am I doing?
I shove off the wall, dragging in a breath that feels too thin. My hands drop away. The bond hums low—still wanting, still restless—but I recoil fast.
She’s staring at me, her face completely shocked and flushed.
And I’d just—shit, I was trying to make her submit.
She shoves off the wall the second my hands are gone.
“You just bit me!”
Her voice echoes down the empty hall—high, breathless, indignant.
“When Tamsin said to be careful of the Fang, I didn’t think she meant you’d actually bite me!”
She’s flushed, eyes blazing, lips parted with outrage, every part of her vibrating through the bond.
I force my face blank.
Don’t speak.
I can’t explain this. Not to her. Not now. The bond hums low—still hungry, still clawing under my skin—but I lock it down, layer after layer of control slamming back into place. I let it take over, and it almost tied her to me permanently.
My father would not be thrilled with that. I meet her eyes, flat and unreadable. And say nothing.
She doesn’t let it drop. Her hands ball into fists at her sides, eyes still blazing. She’s cute when she's angry.
“You—” Her breath catches, wild and uneven. “You can’t just drag me out of there and—and bite me like—”
She stops herself, color flooding higher.
When I say nothing. When I just stand there, gaze flat, locked down tight…her frustration spikes so hard I feel it crackling through the bond.
Her voice drops, lower, tighter.
“What was that?”
I grind my teeth. Keep my expression still. I won’t say it. Won’t tell her what that instinct meant. What the bond is already doing to both of us.
I turn away from her.
Her breath stutters behind me. “Don’t you dare walk away—”
But I’m already moving, each step deliberate. Controlled. Because it's the only thing I have left.
One word, and I’ll lose it again. The bond protests with every stride, the taste of her skin still burning against my mouth.
This can’t happen again.
It won’t.