The blood bond was suffocating.
It pulsed in my veins like poison, tethering me to him — no matter how hard I fought it, no matter how fiercely I tore at the invisible leash.
Lucian Vale was inside me now.
And he wasn't letting go.
That night, while the kingdom slept drunk on blood and war, I ran.
Barefoot.
Barely clothed.
Fury and terror beating in my chest like a second heart.
The gates were unguarded — Lucian's arrogance believing no one would dare touch what belonged to him.
But I dared.
I dared everything.
I hit the woods, branches tearing at my skin, cold mud sucking at my feet, the silver moon slicing the darkness overhead.
Freedom was a taste in my mouth.
It was a lie I clung to.
Until I heard it.
The growl.
Low.
Lethal.
Predatory.
Lucian was hunting me.
I could feel him through the bond — that savage focus, that hunger sharper than teeth.
He didn't call my name.
He didn't plead.
He simply came for me.
And gods help me — part of me thrilled at it.
I ran faster.
Through the trees.
Across the rivers.
Up the rocky cliffs.
But no matter how far I fled, I could feel him getting closer — a storm on my heels, relentless and merciless.
Then I hit the clearing.
And he was already there.
Waiting.
Lucian stepped from the shadows, half-shifted — eyes molten gold, claws blackened with dried blood, teeth bared in a brutal smile.
"Did you really think you could run from me, little wolf?"
I skidded to a halt, heart hammering against my ribs, breath ragged.
"You're a monster," I gasped.
Lucian tilted his head, studying me with terrifying calm.
"Maybe," he said. "But I'm your monster now."
In two strides, he was on me.
I fought him — gods, I fought him — teeth bared, fists flying, desperate and wild.
But he caught me easily, slamming me against a tree, pinning me with his entire body.
"You want to hate me?" Lucian rasped, voice like gravel and smoke. "Good. Hate me."
He pressed his forehead to mine, breath hot and broken.
"But don't you dare lie to yourself, Seraphina."
I shook my head, tears burning my eyes.
"You don't own me."
Lucian laughed — a harsh, aching sound.
"I own your soul, little mate. I branded it the moment you looked at me and thought you could survive."
He kissed me — hard, punishing, savage — devouring my protests, my rage, my fear.
I bit him.
Drew blood.
He only groaned, deeper, darker.
"You'll run again," he whispered against my mouth. "And I'll hunt you every time."
His hand wrapped around my throat — not squeezing, just holding — a terrifying promise.
"You'll never escape me," Lucian said. "Not until you're ashes in my hands."
And gods help me —
something inside me shattered.
Not with fear.
Not with hate.
With need.
Primal. Twisted. Unforgivable.
I hated him.
I needed him.
I would burn the world to stay alive — but a part of me was already burning for him.
Lucian saw it in my eyes — and he smiled, savage and victorious.
"You feel it," he murmured. "Don't you, little wolf?"
I closed my eyes.
"Fuck you," I whispered.
Lucian kissed the corner of my mouth, gentle now, almost reverent.
"No, baby," he whispered back. "Fuck us."
Then he picked me up — threw me over his shoulder like a prize — and carried me back into the darkness.
To the rogue kingdom.
To my ruin.
To my throne of blood.