Page 14

Uldrek stepped inside after me, closing the door with a solid click. He set the key on the table, then leaned back against the door, just watching me. The distance between us couldn't have been more than a few feet, but it felt vast—a space filled with possibility and uncertainty.

"Still time to change your mind, you know," he said after a moment, his voice rougher than before. "I'll tell everyone we came up here to nap if that makes it easier."

The joke was familiar, but there was something different in his tone—a tension that hadn't been there before. I realized with a start that he was nervous. The thought was strangely reassuring. I wasn't the only one stepping into uncharted territory.

I moved closer, close enough to see the rise and fall of his chest, the slight flare of his nostrils as he tracked my movement. Close enough to catch his scent—warm leather, fir, and something distinctly him, earthy and clean.

"I won't change my mind," I said firmly.

His eyes searched mine, looking for hesitation or doubt. I wondered what he saw there. Fear, yes—but not of him. Of what this meant. Of how it might change us.

"This isn't just a bite," he said, his voice low and serious. "This is..." He trailed off, seeming to struggle for words. Instead, he lifted his hand and touched my jaw, his fingers surprisingly gentle against my skin.

The touch sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with fear. I leaned into it, just slightly, a silent affirmation.

"Then make sure you do it right," I said, surprised by the steadiness in my own voice.

Something flickered in his eyes—a heat, a hunger that was quickly controlled but not hidden. His thumb brushed my cheek, a fleeting caress, before his hand dropped back to his side.

"It will hurt," he said bluntly. "Not just the bite. The bond. It's… intense."

"I've experienced pain before," I said quietly.

A shadow crossed his face. "Not like this. This isn't punishment or control. It's connection. Recognition." He paused. "Choosing."

The word hung between us, heavy with meaning. He was still giving me space to walk away. Still making sure this was truly my choice.

I reached up and undid the clasp of my cloak, letting it fall from my shoulders to puddle at my feet. A simple action, but it felt symbolic—removing the first barrier, showing I wasn't hiding anymore.

Uldrek's eyes darkened further, tracking the movement. His throat worked as he swallowed.

"Tell me why you're doing this," he said, the words almost a command. "Not for the Council. Not for protection. Why are you really here?"

The question caught me off guard, but I found I had an answer ready. "Because I'm tired of being afraid," I said honestly. "Because every time I've trusted you, you've proven worthy of it. Because this started as a lie, but it doesn't feel like one anymore." I took a breath. "Because I want to."

He held my gaze for a long moment, searching for truth in my words. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him. He straightened from the door, closing the distance between us with a single step.

"Where?" he asked.

I reached up and pulled at the collar of my tunic, exposing the junction between my neck and shoulder. "Here," I said. "Where it will be seen."

His eyes fixed on the spot, his expression intensifying. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hand again, this time brushing his fingers against the exposed skin. I shivered at the contact, my body responding to his touch in ways that surprised me.

"Are you cold?" he asked, mistaking my reaction.

I shook my head. "No." I didn't elaborate. I didn't need to. The way his eyes darkened told me he understood.

Uldrek's hands moved to my shoulders, strong and steady. "Sit," he said, guiding me toward the edge of the bed.

I sat, my hands folded tightly in my lap. He knelt before me, bringing his face level with mine. In the amber light, his features seemed softer, the hard lines of his jaw and cheekbones less severe. His eyes, though, were intense—focused entirely on me.

"I need to hear you say it," he said quietly. "One more time."

I met his gaze without flinching. "I choose this, Uldrek. I choose you."

Something flickered in his expression—a momentary vulnerability quickly masked.

He nodded once, then reached for the laces of my tunic, his fingers careful but sure.

I held still, allowing him to loosen them, to expose a little more of my shoulder and neck.

His knuckles brushed against my collarbone, a whisper of contact that sent another shiver through me.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he said, his voice rougher now, deeper.

"I will."

He leaned forward, one hand cradling the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. The other rested lightly on my waist, steadying me. I could feel the heat of his body, the solid strength of him so close, and my breath caught in anticipation.

But he didn't bite. Not yet. Instead, he pressed his lips to my neck, just below my ear—a soft, unexpectedly tender contact that made my eyes flutter closed. A momentary gentleness before the pain to come.

I gasped softly, my hands instinctively reaching for him, clutching at the front of his shirt. I felt the rumble of his response more than heard it—a low, approving sound that vibrated through his chest and into mine, settling low in my belly.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice barely a thread of sound against my skin.

I nodded, but it wasn’t enough. I had to say it again. “Yes,” I breathed. “I want this.”

He shifted—a minute adjustment, but I felt the moment change, the balance tip from holding to release.

And then he sank his teeth into me.

There was no warning. No pause. Just that rush of sensation—sharp, burning, immediate. A twin sting of pain and something else, something older, deeper. It stole the breath from my lungs.

I cried out, not from fear, but from shock—raw, startled—clutching his shirt harder, needing something solid to hold on to.

I could feel the edges of my awareness blurring, the pain stretching into something that didn’t quite have a name.

Fire, maybe. Or light. Or memory. My shoulder throbbed where his teeth broke skin, not viciously, but fully—his grip anchored me as the bond ignited.

Because that’s what it was. Not just blood and pressure, not just the mark of his teeth, but something bigger, older. Magic. Connection. A thread winding back on itself, stitching something closed that I hadn’t realized was torn.

Uldrek’s arms were around me now, one braced behind my back, the other wrapped low under my ribs, holding me with careful strength. He didn’t let go. Not even when the energy between us surged, thick and living, wrapping around my breath.

It wasn’t a blast of light. Nothing dramatic. Just presence. The weight of something that had always been possible solidifying into something real.

I felt it settle. Tangible. Permanent.

The bite itself eased, his mouth pulling back, lips brushing the skin now slick with blood and saliva.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t move far. He lowered his forehead to my shoulder, resting there with a low, shuddering breath.

His hands didn’t drop away—he still held me, one large palm at the small of my back, the other braced carefully at my hip, as if releasing me too soon might break something.

Neither of us moved for a while.

The pain still lingered beneath my skin—not excruciating, but sharp and real and unmistakably alive.

I could feel the puncture of his teeth, the throb just under the surface.

But the ache didn’t feel intrusive. It felt anchoring.

As if it had carved out space for something I hadn’t known my body could hold.

My breath came in shallow draws. I wasn’t crying, but I could have. Not from pain. From the weight of it. The truth of what we’d done.

I laid one hand against his back, fingers brushing the thick fabric of his shirt where it stretched across muscle and heat. He didn’t speak. He just held me tighter.

“I felt it,” I whispered after a while, unsure if I was talking to him or myself. “The bond.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” he murmured into my shoulder. “Considering I nearly passed out with how hard it hit.”

I huffed out a laugh, then winced as the movement tugged the fresh wound.

Without lifting his head, he spoke again. “Still hurts?”

I nodded. “But not in a way that scares me.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, searching my expression for the things I hadn’t said yet. Those same watchful eyes. But softer now. Warmer.

“How bad is it?” I asked. “The mark.”

His eyes dropped to the curve of my neck and shoulder, his fingers following. “Red,” he said quietly. “The bite’s clean. Deep enough. You’ll feel it for a few days.”

“I don’t want to hide it,” I said, surprised at how certain I felt.

Uldrek’s thumb brushed lightly over the raw skin—careful, reverent. “You won’t have to,” he said. “Council won’t question it now. They’ll feel it. The bond will show itself if they press.”

I leaned into him slightly, suddenly exhausted. The weight of the evening—leaving Ellie, finding him, choosing this—settled over me like a heavy blanket. Uldrek seemed to understand. He shifted, moving to sit beside me on the bed, his arm still wrapped around my waist.

"We should clean it," he said after a moment, his voice low and practical. "I have—" He reached into a pocket and produced a small cloth and a tiny vial. "Kazrek's work. For the healing."

I nodded, tilting my head to give him better access. His touch was careful as he dabbed at the bite, the cloth coming away stained with blood. The salve stung, then cooled, spreading a gentle numbness across the mark. Uldrek's fingers lingered, tracing the edges of what he'd done. What we'd chosen.

"I should get back," I said finally, though I made no move to rise. "Ellie..."

"Will be fine for a little longer," he finished. "Gruha probably has her half-raised already."

I smiled despite myself. He wasn't wrong.

"Stay," he said quietly. "Just… stay. For a moment."

It wasn't a command. It wasn't even really a request. Just an offering—like everything else he'd given me. Space to choose. Room to breathe.

So I stayed. Just for a moment.