Blood-Bond

Rhett:

The hunt should clear my head.

It usually does. The woods beyond the wards are thick with rot and shadow, the kind of place where only predators thrive. Lucian moves like smoke beside me, silent, feral in his own way. My claws ache for blood, for something to tear apart, but the kill feels hollow tonight.

Because even here—miles from the academy—I feel her.

Isadora.

The tether between us hums low, like a wound I can’t stop prodding. It isn’t just her scent anymore; it’s her fear, her fire, her ache pressing through me. The wolf in me bristles, restless.

Lucian stops dead, head snapping toward the east. I don’t even need to ask. I feel it too.

She’s calling.

Not with words, not even with intent, but the raw pull of her soul reaches through my ribs, hooks me, drags me back toward the castle.

“Go,” Lucian says, voice sharp, already vanishing into the night.

I don’t hesitate. My body tears into motion, faster than I’ve ever moved. Branches claw at me, mud clings to my boots, but nothing matters except the tower window glowing faintly above the grounds.

Her window.

When we burst through the dormitory doors, the air is different. Thick. Charged. I follow the thread like it’s blood on the wind, until we find her.

Isadora.

She’s curled in the window seat, knees pulled to her chest, hair spilling like ink over her shoulders. She doesn’t even flinch when we enter. Her eyes—gods, her eyes—stare out into the abyss beyond the wards, wide and haunted.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice fractured. “I—”

“Stop,” I growl before she can finish. My chest aches at the sight of her. So small. So fragile. And yet the air hums with her power, trembling the glass beneath her bare feet.

Lucian lingers in the shadows, silent, unreadable. But his gaze is sharp, locked on her with the same ferocity I feel.

“You’re okay,” I tell her, softer now. My hand hovers at her shoulder, afraid if I touch her she’ll splinter. Afraid if I don’t, I will.

She lifts her gaze to me then, and the wolf howls inside my chest.

Because I want her. Not just to hold, not just to shield, but to claim. My instincts sharpen, wild, screaming mate her, mark her, make her yours.

I dig my claws into my palms to stop myself. It’s too dangerous. She’s not ready. I’m not safe.

But there’s another way.

A bond.

Not the full mark, not the eternal tie that would chain her body and soul to mine. But a protective blood-bond. She’d have the strength of my kind—the power of a wolf—without the curse of it. My wolf howls again, torn between hunger and reverence.

I swallow hard, turning to Lucian. His crimson eyes glitter, cold and knowing.

“She needs it,” I say. The words scrape out of me, half-snarl. “She’s unraveling. If we don’t ground her, she won’t last.”

Lucian tilts his head, expression sharp enough to cut. “And you’d tether her to yourself instead? Risk binding her to instincts she doesn’t understand?”

“I’d rather bind her to something that will keep her alive,” I snap. My chest heaves. “You feel it too, Lucian. She’s burning out.”

Isadora whispers my name, soft, trembling. It shatters me.

I kneel before her, cupping her hands in mine, rough calluses scraping her fragile fingers. “I can give you strength,” I murmur. “Not forever, not the way my instincts want—but enough to keep you safe. A bond. You’ll have a wolf’s power at your call. Protection.”

Her eyes widen, lips parting as if she can feel the truth humming in me.

Lucian exhales sharply, stepping forward, every line of him tight with restraint. “You know what you’re offering. It isn’t just power—it’s need. She’ll feel you every moment. Hunger when you hunger. Rage when you rage.”

“I know,” I grind out. My throat is raw. “But better that than nothing.”

Lucian studies me for a long moment, then flicks his gaze to Isadora. “It has to be her choice.”

Her fingers tremble in mine. I expect her to pull away. To tell me she doesn’t want any more of us bleeding into her veins, corrupting her piece by piece.

But she doesn’t.

She whispers, “Show me how.”

The wolf inside me lunges, triumphant. I almost can’t breathe.

“Are you sure?” I ask, though the answer already thrums between us.

She nods once, fragile but certain.

Lucian sighs, low and harsh. He steps closer, his presence like a blade at my throat. “Then I’ll help. But if you lose control, Rhett, I’ll end it.”

I bare my teeth but say nothing. Because he’s right.

I bite into my palm, blood welling rich and hot. The scent fills the room, thick, metallic, dangerous. Her eyes darken at the sight of it. I press one claw to her palm, until she bleeds for me. I wrap my bleeding hand to hers, their smaller shape trembling under mine.

“Repeat after me,” I rasp. “By fang and flame, by shadow and blood, I bind my strength to yours.”

Her lips move, shaky, repeating each word. The bond stirs, a golden thread winding tight around us both.

Lucian mutters an incantation, his blood-magic coiling around the vow, sealing it. The room hums with power, thick enough to choke on.

When it snaps into place, I feel it—her heartbeat slamming against mine, our pulses braided together. My wolf howls, triumphant, aching.

Isadora gasps, clutching her chest as if she’s been struck. Her skin glows faintly, heat and shadow both racing across her veins.

Then her gaze lifts to me.

And gods help me, I know I’ll never be free again.