Broken Binding Book นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Axen looked at me without a speck of emotion on his face and said. "I accept. Our bond is broken with the blessing of the Goddess.' Axen tried and failed to hold back another howl. In the end he let loose a loud heart breaking cry that felt like a dagger to my heart, then fell back hitting the hard Chapel floor with a thud.

But just then, a tearing pain ripped through my chest. "Argh!" A violent cough ripped through me, and blood sprayed from my lips. My knees gave out. I crashed to the floor as a phantom hand plunged into my chest and tore my soul in half. This feeling... The mate bond... it's breaking! "No! Evelyn!" I screamed at the sky. "Impossible!" The pain grew more intense. I could feel the invisible thread connecting our souls snapping, inch by inch. Every break was like another slice into my heart. "Austen!" Seraphina knelt beside me in terror. "What's wrong?"

“Damn it.” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide the tremor in my hands. “You can’t just expect me to keep following you blindly. Someone broke into my room. Someone left me a note. And now men are talking about making me… disappear.” My voice cracked on the word. His head snapped toward me, his eyes blazing. “What note?” I faltered. He closed the space between us in a single stride, his hand gripping the wall beside me again. “What. Note.”

She pushed that down deep, sipping from stored bags in the fridge. Rain hammered the windows that Tuesday night. Lydia sat at her desk, sorting through a box of new books. One caught her eye: Spirits of the Wild: Bindings and Releases. The cover was cracked leather, smelling like dirt and old forests. She flipped it open, her fingers brushing over faded words in some ancient tongue. "Just a peek," she told herself. Curiosity burned in her chest. She read the spell aloud, soft and quick, like testing a locked door. The air changed. It got heavy, like before a storm. Candles on the shelves flickered wild, shadows dancing on the walls. A rumble started low, from the book itself. Lydia's hands s

The love I'd tried to hide, the hope I'd been afraid to acknowledge, the deep, unshakeable belief that we could make this work. The bond settled into something new, not the tentative connection we'd had before, but a solid, unbreakable link. His heartbeat became mine. His emotions colored my own. And through it all, I felt completely, perfectly myself. The bond didn't diminish me or override my identity. It enhanced everything I was while connecting me to everything he was. When we finally broke apart, both gasping, the gathered witnesses erupted in cheers. Damien was grinning, Sarah was sobbing happily, and Marcus looked satisfied, like he'd known all along this was how it would end.

Then reality slaps me. I’m supposed to lie low. I’m supposed to stay away. I’m supposed to be protecting a secret that could ruin everything. And here I am, kissing my combat coach. My mate who doesn’t even want me. While wearing three layers of clothes and barely holding my scent together. That’s all it takes—one flicker of reason. Like a thin thread snapping, the spell breaks. The heat drains, replaced by a cold, sharp awareness of exactly what I’m doing and I shove him back.

I then remembered the door bouncing back open because of a piece of foam slightly sitting in between the doorframe preventing it from closing. "But how am I gonna get there?" I looked down at the chains that were attached to my wrist and then noticed that they weren't even locked. They were still open but slightly. I carefully shoved my thumb into the lock in attempt to apply pressure in order to get it to open up more. My acrylic nail popped off taking my actual nail off with it. I screamed out as a tremendous amount of pain shot through my hand. "FUCK!" I squealed as I watched blood seep out of my finger.

Like he was just… Arthur. She was the one for him. I didn’t need to see her to know that. A smile tugged at my lips before I looked back at the book in my lap. The pages were worn soft from too many hands, and the ink faded in places. But the symbols scrawled down the margin were different. My eyes caught on a passage that hadn’t stood out before. Dark binding rituals. Used to trap spirits. Or to keep souls from returning to their bodies… My heart skipped.

Rejection Olympics? The mark on my neck pulsed harder, sharper. I clutched it instinctively, nails digging into the skin. It burned like it was being re-carved—and beneath it, the mate bond echoed, twisted and screaming in its broken silence. Tears blurred my vision, but I gritted my teeth. “Nope,” I whispered. “Not breaking today.” I picked the book back up with trembling fingers. If Amaya thought this thing was a key, then I needed to figure out what it unlocked.