The Heat of the Void

The Black-Ridge manor was a fortress of obsidian and iron, tucked deep within a valley that the sun seemed to avoid.

We made it inside just as the temperature plummeted. Outside, the red fog began to claw at the windows, and the sound of scratching—thousands of claws against stone—filled the air.

"The wards are holding, for now," Rowan panted, leaning against the heavy oak doors of his private study.

He looked at me, and the tension in the room shifted instantly. The adrenaline of the fight was still coursing through my veins, and the Beast was pacing inside me, restless and hungry.

"You’re shaking," Rowan observed, his voice dropping to a low, velvet hum.

"I'm not cold," I whispered.

I walked toward him, my boots clicking on the marble floor. The black mark on his neck was still glowing, a tether that pulled at my very soul.

"This bond," I said, reaching out to touch the mark. "The Beast says you're anchored to me. That if I bleed, you choke."

Rowan caught my wrist, his grip firm. "Then I suppose I'll have to make sure you never bleed again."

He pulled me closer, his other hand sliding up my spine to cup the back of my head. "Do you have any idea what you look like right now? With your eyes glowing and the power rolling off you in waves?"

"Tell me," I challenged, my heart thumping against his chest.

"You look like a queen who just realized she owns the world," he breathed. "And I've never wanted anything more in my life."

He crashed his lips onto mine, and this time, there was no Council to interrupt. It was raw, desperate, and filled with the fire of the awakening. His tongue sought mine, a dominant claim that I met with my own fierce hunger.

I pushed him back against the door, my hands tearing at his vest. I wanted to feel his skin. I wanted to know if the heat was just the bond or if it was him.

"Kaima," he groaned into my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin right above my collarbone. "If we do this... if I claim you while the Beast is this close to the surface... there’s no going back. You’ll be mine. Not just as a mate, but as a part of my very soul."

"Good," I rasped, dragging my nails down his back. "Because I'm tired of belonging to people who don't know what I'm worth. Claim me, Rowan. Show me what it feels like to be chosen."

Rowan lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist. He carried me toward the massive hearth where a fire roared, his eyes never leaving mine.

Outside, the Hounds of the Void screamed in frustration. Inside, the only sound was the crackle of the flames and the heavy, rhythmic beat of two hearts becoming one.

"I chose you the moment I saw you in that forest," Rowan whispered, lowering me onto the furs before the fire. "Not because of the Beast. But because of the fire in your eyes when you looked at the man who broke you."

He stripped away the leather, exposing my skin to the firelight. The ancient runes were still there, faintly glowing. He traced them with his lips, his touch leaving trails of lightning in its wake.

As we merged, the world outside ceased to exist. There was no Damon, no Council, no prophecy. There was only the silver and the violet, the Alpha and the Beast, locked in a dance of power and pleasure that would rewrite the fate of the world.

But as the peak of the bond hit, a vision flashed before my eyes.

I saw a throne made of white bone. I saw Rowan standing in front of it, a crown of black thorns on his head. And I saw myself, standing behind him, my hand on his shoulder—and a dagger in my other hand, aimed straight for his heart.

I gasped, my eyes snapping open as the pleasure ebbed.

Rowan was looking at me, his face full of love and something darker. "Kaima? What is it?"

I looked at the black mark on his neck. It had changed. It was no longer a pulse—it was a shape.

A crown.

"The Hunt isn't the end," I whispered, the weight of the vision settling in my gut. "It’s the beginning of the war for the throne."

Before he could answer, a thunderous crash shook the entire manor. The wards didn't just flicker—they shattered.

A voice, cold and ancient, drifted through the broken windows.

"The First Fang has been claimed. Now, the King must fall."