Bloodoath

The heavy iron doors slammed shut behind Selene, the finality of the sound sending a shiver through her bones. She whirled, yanking at the leather bindings still secured around her wrists, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

Trapped.

Killian had brought her here like a prisoner, not a mate. But that was exactly how he saw her, wasn't it? A possession. A prize to be claimed.

She spun on her heel, taking in the chamber. It wasn't the cold, damp cell she had expected. No chains lined the walls. No iron bars caged her in. Instead, the room was suffocating in its luxury—dark velvet drapes, a massive four-poster bed carved from obsidian wood, a roaring fireplace that cast flickering shadows across the polished stone floors.

This wasn't just any room.

It was his.

Rage curled in her gut, hot and sharp. He had no right. No right to mark her. No right to drag her back here like she was some helpless creature. And yet, the mark on her collarbone still burned, a cruel reminder that the bloodbound oath had chosen for her.

The door creaked open.

She turned just as Killian stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a storm. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes gleaming silver in the dim light. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. The weight of his gaze alone was suffocating.

"Untie me," she demanded, voice steady despite the fury coiling in her veins.

He tilted his head, as if considering. "No."

Selene lunged forward, her shoulder slamming into his chest, hoping to catch him off guard. But he didn't so much as stumble. He let her push against him, let her snarl and bare her teeth, but it was like fighting against a mountain.

"Are you finished?" he asked, voice maddeningly calm.

"Go to hell."

He exhaled, a sound almost like amusement, before reaching for her wrists. She flinched as his fingers brushed against her skin, expecting pain, but instead, he undid the bindings with an effortless tug. The leather fell away, leaving behind angry red marks.

Relief warred with indignation as she rubbed at her wrists. "You can't keep me here."

Killian's expression darkened. "You still don't understand, do you?" He took a step closer, forcing her back until she was pressed against the heavy wooden dresser. "This mark on you—on us—isn't just for show. It's a binding. A claim written in blood and magic older than you or me."

"I don't accept it."

His lips twitched, but there was no humor in his eyes. "It doesn't matter if you accept it, little wolf. It's already done."

Selene's chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her hands clenched at her sides. "You think you can just force me into this? Into you?"

Killian's fingers ghosted over the side of her neck, barely a touch, yet it sent a jolt of something traitorous down her spine. "Oh, Selene." His voice dipped lower, almost a whisper. "If I wanted to force you, you wouldn't be standing right now."

Heat flooded her face, but she refused to let him see her falter. "Then what do you want?"

Killian's silver eyes locked onto hers, and for the briefest second, something flickered there—something dangerous. Something desperate.

"I want you to submit," he said.

Her breath caught.

Not in the way of a warrior surrendering to an enemy. No, this was something far darker, far more intimate.

She swallowed hard, shoving against his chest with all her strength. This time, he let her go.

Selene took a shaky step back, her heart hammering. "I will never bow to you."

Killian watched her for a moment longer before exhaling sharply. "We'll see."

With that, he turned on his heel and left, the door locking behind him with an ominous click.

Hours passed.

Maybe longer.

Selene paced the room, her mind racing. There had to be a way out. A way to undo the bond.

The moonlight spilled through the arched windows, bathing everything in silver. Her reflection stared back at her from the glass—wild dark hair, piercing violet eyes, the mark on her collarbone glowing faintly beneath the fabric of her tunic.

A bloodbound oath.

A magic that could not be undone.

Or could it?

Her mother had warned her once—before the villagers had burned her alive for being a witch. Be careful of oaths written in blood, Selene. They always demand a price.

Selene pressed her fingers against the mark, willing it to vanish, to disappear as if it had never been there.

Pain shot through her, white-hot and searing.

She gasped, clutching her shoulder as her knees buckled. The room spun. The mark burned.

And then, a voice—not her own—whispered through her mind.

You belong to him now.

The door burst open.

Killian.

His scent hit her first—smoky cedar and the unmistakable hint of blood. His eyes swept over her crumpled form, narrowing when they landed on the mark.

"What did you do?"

Selene swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Nothing."

He was on her in an instant, grasping her chin between his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Don't lie to me."

Something in his expression made her breath hitch. It wasn't just anger.

It was fear.

Killian Voss—the ruthless Alpha King, the predator who had hunted her down like prey—was afraid.

Of losing her.

The realization sent a strange, unwelcome sensation through her chest.

"I need to break this bond," she whispered, hating the way her voice wavered.

Killian's fingers tightened, his jaw clenching. "You can't."

"I have to try."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He exhaled, slow and measured. "You don't know what you're playing with, little wolf."

"I don't care."

His gaze burned into her. "You should."

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, without warning, Killian released her, stepping back as if she had physically wounded him.

His next words sent ice through her veins.

"If you try to break this bond, Selene… it will kill us both."