Semua Bab His Eternal Bond Was Never Mine: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Right before our blood-oath ceremony, my mate, Darius, said he needed to forge a blood bond with another woman. Livia—the woman who had supposedly saved his life.“I have to forge a temporary, life-sharing bond with Livia. She’s dying, Isolde. Her life source is failing.”Darius’s gaze was heavy.My hands stilled over the Eternal Blood.The potion was for our ceremony. It was meant to ensure the soul-link between fated mates would never fray.And now, he was asking me to accept him bonding with someone else.My fingertips began to tremble.“Are you fucking kidding me?”“This isn't a request, Isolde.” His voice, laced with the authority of a Prince, echoed in the vast alchemy lab. “It’s already done, Isolde. I forged the bond this morning. In the forgotten sanctuary.”“In the sanctuary…” My hand shook so violently the potion vial slipped and shattered on the stone floor. “That’s the place for our Eternal Vow!”“I owe her my life.”“I don’t care what you owe her!” My voice cracked like a

Darius didn’t come back to our chambers that night.I knew where he was.The next morning, I opened the Coven’s internal feed.The top post was a new announcement.Prince Darius has taken a priceless Soul-Crystal from the Coven’s vault to maintain his blood bond with Livia.The comments exploded.“Our Prince forged an Eternal Bond with someone else?”“But isn’t Isolde his fated mate?”“I heard that woman, Livia, moved into the Prince’s Chambers.”“Isn’t the blood-oath ceremony next week?”I shut off the comm.At noon, I met my best friend, Chloe.“You what?” Chloe’s voice was so sharp it nearly shattered her wine glass. “You’re calling off the ceremony?”“That’s right.”“Are you insane? He’s your fated mate!”“A fated mate doesn’t forge an Eternal Bond with someone else right before the ceremony,” I said calmly, sipping my blood-substitute. “And he certainly doesn’t get another woman’s name tattooed on the sacred sigil meant for me.”Chloe gasped. “The sacred sigil?”I slid my phone ac

For the next week, my comm feed was flooded with rumors.Livia’s social media was on fire.A picture of her lying in bed at the luxury Seattle estate, Darius sitting beside her, feeding her his own blood from his wrist.A picture of her undergoing a strengthening rite in a blood pool, Darius at the edge, watching over her with a focused gaze.A picture of her during a bond-strength test, Darius holding her hand tightly.And the captions, dripping with false sweetness: “My Darius takes such good care of me. I’ve never felt safer.”I didn’t need to read the comments.“The Prince is so good to her.”“This is what eternal mates look like.”“Where’s Isolde? We never see her.”“I heard she’s busy with her career.”I turned off the comm and went back to packing.On the third day, I drove to my parents’ estate.“Isolde?” my mother said, surprised, as she opened the door. “What are you doing here?”“I need to talk to you both.”In the living room, my father put down his ancient tome and looked

I spun around.Darius had appeared silently behind me.He stood just outside the balcony door, like a figure condensed from shadow, his eyes like chips of ice.The lingering pain from the energy clash had made me forget—a Prince’s hearing can cut through walls.Thank the Night Goddess he hadn’t heard everything.“A healer from the Southern Coven,” I said smoothly, not breaking stride as I walked past him. “She’s leaving for the Amazon to study primal bloodlines.”Darius followed me, sitting back down. “Which friend?”“You don’t know her.”“Her name.”“Why should I tell you?”Livia coughed delicately. “Darius, don’t be so hard on Isolde. A girl’s secrets are important.”Her words seemed to pacify him.“Sorry,” he said to me, though his eyes were still full of suspicion.But he didn’t press further, seemingly unwilling to sour the mood again.His gaze softened as he turned to Livia, pulling a beautiful box from his jacket.“What’s that?” Livia asked curiously.“For you.”Inside was a ‘bo

Darius’s POVThe bells of the Cathedral of Eternal Night tolled for the ninth time.It was the most sacred hour for our kind.Above, ancient frescoes shimmered in the candlelight, and the air was thick with the scent of myrrh and old blood.I stood before the obsidian altar, dressed in the intricate robes of a Prince, the sacred sigil on my chest a dull, throbbing ache.It was anticipation, and it was dread.Below the altar, the elders of the seven great houses and hundreds of nobles stood in silence, their gazes fixed on the closed bronze doors.Isolde would walk through them, and under the watch of our ancestors, she would drip her blood into the holy chalice in my hands.“Your Highness.”The doors finally creaked open.But it was not Isolde in her blood-red gown who entered. It was the Head Elder, holding a parchment scroll.His steps were heavy.“Where is Isolde?” I kept my voice low, trying to maintain my princely composure, but my fingers were white where they gripped the chalice