Page 1 of Claim Me

PROLOGUE: FALLON

FOUR YEARS AGO

“Do you,Fallon Doyle, take Nikolas O’Neely to be your forever mate?” Daithi’s hazel eyes flash with power as he stares me down, awaiting my acceptance.

Two words.

That’s all I need to say.

And then the illegal spell will weave a fated-mate bond around my soul, linking me to the monster before me.

Nikolas O’Neely.

Evil incarnate.

Or I assume he’s evil, anyway. He agreed to this madness, after all.

You don’t have to do this,my twin sister whispers into my mind.Please don’t do this.

I swallow, my heart thumping loudly in my ears. It’s not enough to drown out my sister’s soft tones, her urgency rising with each passing second.

This isn’t your punishment to accept,she tells me.It’s mine.

While that may be true, neither of us has a choice. Nikolas won’t accept her, not when he knows what her voice can do.

She killed members of his extended family a decade ago with a few calmly stated words, leaving him orphaned. It wasn’t intentional. But that didn’t matter. The relationship between the Doyle Clan and the O’Neely Clan shattered that day, ending a century-long alliance.

Today is the day we right the wrongs of that incident.

A day where I agree to have my soul realigned to mate an O’Neely. It’ll feel like a fated-mate bond, tying me to him for as long as we both shall live.

While that may seem promising, killing him isn’t actually an option. Because it’ll rip my soul apart in the process.

Once this is done, we’ll be bonded for better or for worse.

And Issy will be safe.That’s the bargain—if I do this for my family, my parents will keep Issy hidden from the world.

She’s too powerful to be discovered. Too uncontrollable. If the Houses learn of her presence, they’ll annihilate her.

Of course, they may do the same to me if I ever let my true abilities be known. I’m more necromancer than witch, and that’s not a welcome trait. Especially when some of the Houses are run by undead supernaturals.

Fortunately, I know how to manage and hide my darker talents.

“Miss Doyle,” Daithi prompts me, one brown brow inching upward into his matching hairline.

He’s a warlock and an O’Neely cousin, making him one of the most influential members of our Outcast Coven. I wasn’t surprised to see him standing at the marble stone today, ready to recite an illegal mating spell. He excels in nefarious affairs.

Just like my parents.

Just likeNikolas.

My veins ice over at the thought of what all this means.

I shift my focus to the man now, studying his near-black eyes and thick, dark hair. His expression tells me he doesn’t appreciate my silence, that each passing second is a tick against me, one that’s likely going to end in punishment.

I’ve heard rumors of his reputation.

Of his penchant for trickery and violence.