Zyra's world tilted, her body screaming in protest as the force yanked her forward.
Her knees buckled, and she barely caught herself before collapsing at Kieran Duskbane's feet. The bond burned. A raw, searing heat bloomed in her chest, spreading through her veins like molten fire. It wasn't just inside her—it was between them, a current thrumming in the space where their bodies had yet to touch.
She gasped, clutching her chest. "What—what is this?"
Kieran stood rigid, his jaw clenched so tight it looked as though it might crack. His hands curled into fists, shadows writhing at his fingertips like they, too, were trying to resist something. His cold blue eyes, once unreadable, now burned with fury.
"You tell me, little star," he growled, his voice rough, raw. "What kind of sick joke is this?"
Zyra had no answer. Her body ached with the pull of the bond, a desperate need that was completely foreign to her. It felt as if something deep in her recognized him, as if her very soul was trying to reach for him.
She fought it.
The Shadow King was the enemy—the monster who had slaughtered her village, who commanded the darkness itself. This couldn't be happening.
"No," she whispered. "This isn't real."
Kieran let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Oh, it's real, little star." His hand shot out, gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. A shiver ran through her at the touch—where his skin met hers, the bond snapped taut, sending a shock of fire and ice down her spine.
Zyra gasped, wrenching away from his grip. "Don't touch me."
Kieran's expression darkened. "Trust me, I don't want to."
But even as he said it, his body betrayed him. His fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to reach for her again. His breathing was uneven, and his magic, once controlled, now lashed out unpredictably. The very shadows around them flickered and pulsed, reacting to the chaos the bond had thrown them into.
Zyra swallowed hard. "What does this mean?"
Kieran exhaled sharply, running a hand through his jet-black hair. His frustration was evident, but beneath it, she saw something else—something that unsettled her.
Fear.
Not of her. Not of the bond. But of what it meant for him.
"It means," he said finally, voice low, dangerous, "that you belong to me now."
Zyra's breath hitched. "Like hell I do."
Kieran's smirk returned, but it didn't reach his eyes. "The bond says otherwise."
She refused to accept that. The celestial elders had spoken of fated mates before—an ancient force binding two souls together, something that couldn't be broken. But those stories were always about lovers, not… this. Not enemies.
"I won't accept it," she said through gritted teeth.
Kieran's gaze flickered with something unreadable. "You think I will?" He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. "I have spent years ensuring I would never have a mate. That I would never be weakened by this." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "And now the gods decide to curse me with a celestial?"
The disgust in his tone sent a flicker of something sharp through Zyra's chest. She shouldn't care. She didn't care. But the bond made it impossible to ignore the way his rejection stung.
Good, she told herself. Let him hate this as much as I do.
But then Kieran did something that made the breath leave her lungs.
He reached for her again.
This time, it wasn't to restrain her. His fingers brushed against her wrist, a tentative, almost involuntary touch. The second his skin met hers, the bond flared violently, and Zyra felt it—the raw pull of him, the way his magic tangled with hers, darkness and light clashing, desperate to consume each other.
Kieran hissed and ripped his hand back as if burned. "Damn it." His breathing was uneven, shadows rippling wildly around him. "We need to end this. Now."
Zyra's chest heaved. "How?"
Kieran's gaze darkened. "You kill me."
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Zyra's blood ran cold. Kill him?
It would be justice. Retribution for what he had done to her people. And yet…
She couldn't move.
The bond wouldn't let her.
Kieran let out a bitter laugh. "Exactly."
For the first time, true horror crept into Zyra's chest. The bond didn't just tie them together—it bound them in ways she hadn't even begun to understand.
"You're mine now," Kieran murmured, his voice no longer mocking but deadly serious. "And I am yours."
She shook her head. "No."
"Yes." His smirk was gone, replaced with something grim. "And there is nothing we can do about it."
Her stomach twisted. She refused to believe that. She refused to be bound to him.
But then Kieran's shadows surged forward, wrapping around her wrists like cold steel.
"Until we find a way to break this," he said, voice dangerously low, "you are not leaving my sight."
Zyra fought the shadows, but they held fast, pulling her toward him.
Kieran's lips curved into something wicked. "Welcome to hell, little star."
And with a wave of his hand, the darkness swallowed them both.
---