Page 47

Dahlia

The fire was still burning low in the hearth when I turned to face him.

My skin was warm, the aches in my limbs dulled, and the cuts on my arms and ribs had faded to barely-there reminders. Whatever herbs had been hidden in the food—or whatever magic Kieran used to coax them to life—had worked. I felt human again. Whole-ish.

He’d healed me. Not just with blood and power, but with the kind of care that said more than words ever could.

And now we were about to do something irreversible.

I sat cross-legged on the bed, the sheets twisted beneath me like a nest, and looked at him. Really looked.

Kieran knelt in front of me, the firelight making his hair shimmer bronze at the ends, his eyes all shadow and storm.

“This isn’t a wedding,” I said, trying to smile. “But it kind of feels like one.”

He smirked. “Don’t tell Silas. He’ll cry about not being invited.”

I let out a soft laugh, then went still as he reached for me.

His hand cupped the side of my face, gentle, reverent. “Are you sure?” he asked, voice low and rough.

“I’m already yours,” I whispered. “This just makes it official.”

Kieran’s gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes. “I meant what I said before.”

“About binding our souls?”

“About what happens after.” His thumb traced my cheekbone. “I want to survive this. Not just for the world, or the Order, or some twisted legacy. I want to survive it for you. So I can do this the right way. Someday. If you’ll let me.”

My heart stuttered.

“Are you seriously proposing to me before we do soul magic?”

His lips twitched. “I’m serious about you, Flower. I’ve known it since the moment I came out of that damn locket and you didn’t run.”

“That’s a low bar,” I murmured, even as my throat tightened.

“It was everything,” he said. “And it’s still everything.”

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to his. “Then let’s do it. Let’s bind ourselves together. Your soul. Mine. All of it.”

He nodded, breath hitching.

Kieran reached for the dagger resting on the nightstand—his dagger, the one with the blood-worn hilt and silver gleam that had already seen too many battles. He held it between us like a sacred offering.

“No incantation?” I asked.

“Just the truth,” he said. “And blood.”

I took a breath.

And together, we began.

The dagger’s weight settled into my hand like it had been waiting for me. Smooth, cool metal. A glint of something ancient and sharp.

Kieran extended his hand, palm up, and I mirrored him.

There were no candles. No circle. No chanting.

Just us. Knees touching. Breathing the same breath. Hearts aligned.

He looked at me like I was made of stars.

“One drop,” he said, voice barely audible. “Just enough to open the door.”

I nodded.

We sliced together. Shallow. Clean. A red thread beading up on both palms.

And then, slowly, we pressed them together.

The warmth of his blood met mine.

Something shifted.

Not in the room— in me.

A pulse. A ripple. A thread winding through my spine, into my lungs, my ribs, my heart.

And I felt him.

Not just near me. In me.

Like sunlight through the cracks. Like shadows curling in warmth. Like a second heartbeat syncing with my own.

Kieran’s eyes fluttered shut, his brow knit in concentration—or awe. I couldn’t tell.

He spoke first.

“No more walls,” he whispered. “No more halves. Just us. Shared breath, shared power, shared pain.”

I echoed him, voice trembling.

“Two halves made whole. What you feel, I feel. What I suffer, you bear. Where I go, you go.”

He opened his eyes again.

“And where you fall, I’ll rise.”

“And where you break,” I said, “I’ll mend.”

The blood between our palms shimmered faintly, gold and red and laced with something older than names. It sank into our skin, sealing something unseen.

There was no flash. No thunderclap.

Just… knowing.

I felt his soul brush mine.

And he felt everything.

The ache in my bones. The fragile, burning love I held in my chest. The fear. The awe. The way I wanted him with a kind of urgency that wasn’t just physical, but forever.

Kieran’s hand moved from mine to my cheek.

His thumb wiped away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen.

“You’re with me now,” he said, voice rough and reverent. “Always.”

I leaned forward, pressed my lips to his, and felt the bond settle like a heartbeat under my skin.

Together.

No more edges between us.

Only flame.

Only shadow.

Only us.