Chapter 3: Bound By Blood

Lyra

She should have stayed in bed.

Out the window, the moonlight bled across the forest floor, silver with a mist, like a warning. The remnants of the creature Ronan had killed still stained the dirt now on the bottom of her boots. Its black blood reeking of rot and magic twisted out of form.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ignore the pulse under her skin—the echo of the bond. It had quieted some, but not gone. Never gone.

The connection had sunk deep, a pressure behind her ribs, like a hand gripping her from the inside.

She didn’t ask for it.

Didn’t want it.

And yet… she felt him before she saw him. Again.

Of course he followed her. Out of all the asshole things to do.

Ronan Thorne stood at the edge of the clearing, shirtless, arms crossed over his chest like he was carved from shadow and arrogance.

She rolled her eyes in disgust. “What do I have to do to get rid of this guy.” she mumbled to herself as she found herself stomping towards him.

“You’re still here,” she said coldly.

He tilted his head, golden eyes unreadable. “You thought I’d let you wander off after that?”

“You don’t get to protect me. You’re not”

“Don’t say it,” he warned, low and quiet. “We both know what I am now.”

“No,” she snapped, stepping back. “We don’t. I didn’t agree to this bond. I didn’t choose it. This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Tell that to your magic.”

Her fingers twitched. She clenched her fists to stop the sparks from spilling. It was true, her magic had felt wrong ever since the bond clicked into place. Feral. Hot. Drawn to him like he was a flame she was supposed to consume and claim.

She swallowed thickly. “I’ll find a way to sever it.”

He stepped closer. Just once. Slowly. But even that made her stomach twist.

His voice dropped, rough and intimate. “You sever this, Lyra… and it’ll rip you in half.”

Ronan-

He shouldn’t have followed her. He should have turned around and left this alone.

It would’ve been the smart thing. Cut ties before the bond wrapped any tighter, before his wolf started thinking it was forever..

But then she’d looked at him. Eyes lit with fury and confusion and that gorgeous streak of fearless defiance.

And he was hooked. She was captivating and he was her captive.

Lyra Vale was going to be the end of him.

And he didn’t care.

“You don’t get to decide what this means,” she said, voice sharper than the cold wind curling through the trees.

He bit down on the growl rising in his throat. She was right. That was the problem.

But before he could say anything else, he felt someone, no he felt them.

Power. Ancient. Cloaked in the scent of sage and silver.

The Tribunal Moon Council.

His head snapped toward the trees at the same time hers did.

“Shit,” she whispered.

Ronan moved fast, instincts on fire. He grabbed her wrist. “Come on” he said.

She resisted. Of course she did. “Don’t touch me.”

“They followed me,” he growled, voice low. “If they see you like this; untethered, unclaimed, bonded without approval; they’ll destroy you, Lyra. I’m not exaggerating.”

She went still.

“You’re serious,” she said.

“Deadly.”

He tugged her behind a thick veil of trees and brush just as a shadow slipped into the clearing they were just at. Tall, robed, face hidden beneath a hood sewn with thread of silver.

A second followed. Then a third robed figure came into view.

Only three?

Lyra’s breath hitched. Her heartbeat thudded against his wrist.

“We can run,” she whispered.

“No,” he said. “But we can lie.”

Lyra

Her stomach flipped. “Lie to the Tribunal Moon Council?”

“They’ll believe me.”

She smirked, half disbelieving, half believing.

Her lips parted. “You want them to think you… forced the bond?”

He didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

“That’s”

“Exactly the kind of monster they expect me to be,” he finished, eyes dark. “It’s believable. They won’t question it.”

“And what happens to me in that story?” she hissed.

“They’ll think I’ve claimed you,” he said. “Not bonded per se but claimed. That you’re under my protection. That you belong to me.”

She recoiled. Her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

He leaned in. Not touching. But close. Too close. “Then pretend to be. Or die. Your choice.”

The word ‘die’ hung heavy between them.

She wanted to slap him again. To run. To set the entire forest on fire.

But the Council would kill her without a blink.

Her fingers trembled. She let him pull her forward.

And just like that, she stepped into the clearing, at his side, wrapped in the lie of his arms.

Ronan

He expected her to tremble, to show some sort of nervousness.

She didn’t.

Lyra stood tall, proud even in the curve of his grip, like a queen forced to kneel and determined to burn the throne from the inside.

He admired her for it.

The Tribunal Moon Council looked at her like a curiosity. Like a mistake.

Ronan stepped forward, voice flat. “She’s mine.”

A ripple of silence.

“You bonded to a witch,” one of the robed figures said.

“I claimed her,” Ronan corrected. “The bond followed.”

“Unapproved.”

“She shifted. She’s not just a witch. She’s also a wolf.”

“She’s dangerous.”

He met their eyes without blinking. “So am I.”

Lyra

Every word made her stomach turn.

Claimed.

Mine.

Bond.

She’s dangerous.

She wanted to scream. Burn the place to the ground. But she couldn’t. Not now. Not yet.

One of the figures tilted their head. “Lyra Vale. Daughter of Mara Vale, yes?”

Her spine stiffened. “Yes.”

“A bloodline tainted by both moon and magic. You should not exist.”

Heat flushed under her skin.

“She exists,” Ronan said, stepping slightly in front of her. “And she’s not going anywhere.”

“She’ll be watched.”

“She’ll be protected.”

Silence again. Long. Cold. Grim.

"We Shall See. We will send word."

Then the Council turned. One by one. Vanishing back into the shadows from once they came.

Gone.

Just like that.

Ronan

They didn’t speak again until the woods were still. The air rippled once more with electricity.

Lyra ripped away from him with a curse.

“You arrogant, reckless bastard.”

“You’re alive,” he said simply.

She whirled on him. “They think I belong to you.”

He stepped closer. “They think I protected you.”

“I didn’t need your protection.”

“No,” he said, voice dropping. “But I think you wanted it.”

She slapped him.

The sound cracked like lightning off the trees.

And the bond between them stiffened..

She froze.

So did he.

That moment seemed to stretch; hot, tense, breathless.

He reached for her jaw, slow, deliberate. She didn’t stop him.

His thumb grazed her cheek. Her lashes fluttered.

“You feel it,” he whispered. “Same as I do.”

“I won’t be your possession,” she said, voice shaking.

“Then fight me.”

Her magic sparked. His wolf growled.

And for one second, they leaned in, like gravity wanted their mouths to crash together.

But she pulled back. Barely.

Eyes wild and yearning.

Breath ragged.

Magic pulsating through her veins.

“This isn’t over,” she whispered.

Ronan’s eyes glowed gold. “No. It’s just beginning.”

“Now what?”

“We go home.”