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RHAEGAR

“N ora,” I murmur under my breath as I intently gaze at her form.

She trembles before me, her fingers curling into the stone beneath her as if it is the only thing keeping her grounded. I watch the realization settle into her bones, the full, suffocating weight of our bond pressing against her fragile mortal mind.

She is beginning to understand.

And she hates it.

I should not care.

There is something satisfying in the way her breath hitches, the way her pulse flutters at the base of her throat, fast and erratic . She is afraid. But she does not run.

"You knew," she whispers, her voice raw with something she does not want to name. "You knew the moment I woke up that this bond wouldn’t break."

I tilt my head. "Of course."

Her teeth clench. The anger in her is a soft thing, fragile in comparison to what I have seen in warriors and kings, but it burns hot and bright. Like a dying ember that refuses to be snuffed out.

Fascinating.

"I should kill you."

The words are a whisper, but they curl through the air with venom, curling against my skin.

Amusement flickers through me. "You could try."

Her magic flares —weak, still tainted by the toxin, but present enough that it buzzes against my senses . She wants to fight me. The thought sends a dark thrill through my blood, deep and primal.

She will lose.

But I would enjoy it.

Instead, she exhales sharply, reeling herself back from the edge. Her fingers twitch at her sides before she presses her palms flat against her thighs, steadying herself.

She is learning.

The fire in her is controlled now, no longer reckless.

She is dangerous in a way she does not yet understand.

She swallows hard, forcing her chin higher. "Then what do you want?"

The question is a sharp thing, meant to wound.

It does not.

Because she is asking the wrong question.

I take a step closer, slow and deliberate, watching as her body tenses. She does not retreat.

"Little healer," I murmur, low and dark, "you already know what I want."

Her throat bobs. She knows. She has known since the moment she felt the bond.

I am hungry.

And she is the only thing that keeps me from fading into nothing.

She takes a shuddering breath, her pulse hammering in her throat.

"You need me." The words are careful now, measured. She is testing the waters, searching for something she might be able to use against me.

Smart.

But not smart enough.

"I do," I admit, watching the way her pupils dilate. "But do not mistake my dependence for weakness, little one. You are mine because I allow it."

She scoffs. "I bound you, monster. Not the other way around."

I laugh then, a deep, rich sound that echoes through the ruined chamber.

She flinches.

I could let her have this delusion, this fragile belief that she is the one in control.

But I do not believe in lies.

I close the remaining distance between us in a single step, my movements slow and unforgiving. She backs up instinctively , only to hit the cold wall of the temple behind her.

Cornered.

Her breathing picks up, shallow and uneven, but she holds my gaze. Stubborn little thing.

Good.

She will need that stubbornness to survive what comes next.

I brace one hand beside her head, fingers curling against the ancient stone as I lean in, my voice dropping into something lethal, something meant to remind her of what I am.

"You made a bargain, little healer. One that has no loophole, no escape. You are bound to me, and I am bound to you. If I die, you die. If you sever the bond, we both perish. So do not speak to me of control, when you hold just as much of a noose around your neck as I do."

Her lips part, her breath hitching.

She hates what I am saying.

But she cannot deny it.

A beat of silence passes between us, thick and smothering.

And then she does something I do not expect.

She lifts her chin and smirks.

"I guess that means you can’t kill me, either."

Something in my blood sparks , something dark and unchained.

She is right.

And I hate it.

I inhale deeply, catching the faintest trace of her scent beneath the lingering stench of blood and magic.

She smells like something sweet and untamed , like the sharp bite of winter air and the warmth of something forbidden.

A dangerous scent.

I push away from the wall, releasing her from the trap of my body.

She blinks, startled by the sudden space between us.

Good. She should not get too comfortable.

"Very well," I say, rolling my shoulders, feeling the weight of my half-formed wings shift. "If we are to be bound together, then we will need rules."

Her brows furrow. "Rules?"

"Yes." I tilt my head, watching her carefully. "You will not run from me."

She bristles. "That is not a rule. That’s a command."

"It is both."

Her jaw tightens , but she does not argue.

Smart girl.

"And what else?" she asks, crossing her arms.

I smile then , slow and sharp.

"You will not try to kill me in my sleep."

Her lips press into a thin line.

Which means she was planning to.

I chuckle. "And in return, I will not devour you while you sleep."

Her face pales.

Good. She should be afraid.

I do not know how long I will be able to fight the hunger growing inside me.

Her mouth opens, but before she can speak, a sound echoes through the ruins.

Distant.

A soft click of steel against stone.

She hears it too, because her body goes rigid.

Dark elves.

Coming this way.

I glance toward the entrance of the temple, stretching out my senses.

There are three. No— four. Moving in formation.

Hunters.

Nora grips the fabric of her torn tunic, her nails digging into the cloth. Her pulse races.

They are coming for her.

And they will have to go through me first.

I roll my shoulders, letting the molten heat beneath my skin flare brighter, hotter.

My hunger roars to life, uncoiling like a beast in the dark.

The girl does not yet understand what she has woken.