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Even though it hadn't been long since I'd seen her, I'd convinced myself that my memory had exaggerated her beauty, had romanticized the connection that flared between us. I'd told myself that the bond was merely a curiosity, a complication I would manage as I had managed all the other challenges that came with ruling a fractured realm.

I had been a fool.

Something clicked into place deep within my soul as our eyes met across the meadow – a tumbler falling in a lock, the final piece of a puzzle slotting perfectly into position. The first time I'd seen her, I'd felt a spark, but it was nothing compared to this. My soul sang, and my cock went rock hard with a suddenness that would have been embarrassing if I'd been capable of feeling anything but the need to be inside her.

Her scent reached me even across the distance – jasmine and honey, deep and rich, more intoxicating than any wine I'd ever tasted. It mingled with Rowen's mahogany scent and Archer's woodsy musk in a heady concoction that made my head spin. The four of us together created something perfect, something complete.

I began walking toward them, unable to stop myself if I'd wanted to. With each step, I felt the connection to my realm grow stronger. The trees swayed, reaching toward us with gently rustling branches. Flowers turned their faces upward, blooming more vibrantly where Sierra stood. The very earth beneath my feet seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat, as if the realm itself celebrated our bonding.

My mother had loved this meadow. She'd come here to escape the suffocating politics of the court, to breathe freely.

I hadn't understood her words then. I did now.

"Callum." Sierra's voice was breathless, her pupils dilating as I drew nearer.

My fangs emerged unbidden, sharp against my lower lip as instinct rode me hard. The urge to claim her, to mark her, to make her mine threatened to overwhelm rational thought. My gaze darted to her throat, to the soft curve where her neck met her shoulder. I could almost taste her skin, could imagine the way she would gasp when my teeth broke through.

But my gaze didn't stop there. It traveled to Archer, standing tensely at her side, his ice-blue eyes wary but unable to hide the heat in their depths. I saw Rowen's mark on the bend between his shoulder and neck – a claiming bite, stark and possessive against his pale skin. My own mark would look mighty good on the other side. Matching marks, binding us all together.

"Brother," Rowen's voice cut through my haze of desire, sharp and knowing. "You look... affected."

I dragged my gaze to him, taking in the calculating gleam in those obsidian eyes. Unlike Archer, there was no wariness in Rowen's stance – only a predatory stillness that reminded me that for all our differences, we shared the same blood.

"You brought her to my realm without warning," I replied, my voice rougher than I intended. "Did you expect a formal reception?"

Sierra shifted between them, and the movement drew my attention like a beacon. She wore Fae clothing – a silver-blue tunic that hugged curves I remembered all too vividly, paired with leggings that clung to her thighs. The outfit was vaguely familiar.

"My cousin's," I realized aloud, recognizing the distinctive embroidery at the cuffs. Something possessive and deeply pleased unfurled inside me at seeing Sierra in clothes that marked her as belonging to the royal house – to me.

Despite the fact that I very much hated the cousin in question.

"It was what we had available," Archer said, his fingers never straying far from his daggers even as his eyes tracked my every movement. "We didn't exactly have time to pack for her."

I took another step forward, close enough now to see the flush spreading across Sierra's cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Through our fledgling bond, I could feel her confusion, her desire, and beneath it all, a stubborn determination that made my lips curve into a smile despite myself.

"Your heat is progressing quickly," I observed, scenting the air between us. "Faster than it should be."

"How would you know?" she challenged, lifting her chin in defiance even as her body swayed subtly toward mine. "We've spent all of ten minutes together before now."

"I know because I can feel it," I replied, tapping my chest where the bond pulsed between us. "Just as I can feel your curiosity. Your desire. Your fear."

Her eyes widened. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Perhaps you should be." I let the shadows around me darken and twist, a display of power I rarely indulged in. "I'm not known for my gentleness, Sierra."

Rowen snorted. "Theatrical as always, brother. The shadows are a nice touch."

I ignored him, keeping my gaze locked on Sierra. "You came to me. Why?"

"We need your help," Archer interjected, stepping slightly forward. "Sierra's heat is accelerating. The standard progression has been compressed from months to days. At this rate?—"

"She'll be consumed by it within a week," I finished for him, the implications immediately clear. First heats were dangerous enough when they followed the natural timeline. An accelerated one could drive her mad with need, could burn her out from the inside if not properly managed. "Let me guess – you need me to complete the bond. To anchor her."

"No," Sierra said firmly, surprising me. "I don't need to be 'managed' or 'anchored.' I need information. I need to understand what's happening to me."

I studied her, admiring the fire in her eyes even as I sensed the fear she tried so hard to hide. "And you think I have answers that they don't?" I nodded toward Rowen and Archer.

"I think you're Fae, and this is a Fae thing, and I'm tired of being kept in the dark about my own body," she retorted. "Every time I ask a question, I get cryptic half-answers or warnings about how dangerous everything is."