The Fortress of Thorns had never known such silence.
After the Council's departure, the chamber where Elira had awakened her power was sealed by magic. Lucien carried her back to his private wing, his arms rigid with tension, his mind haunted by the flare of her uncontrolled energy.
She had become more than an Omega.
She was becoming his equal—perhaps even his undoing.
Elira stirred in his arms. Her skin was fever-warm against his chest, her breaths shallow and quick. She was unconscious but alive, her magic pulsing beneath her skin like a caged storm.
He laid her down gently on the silk-draped bed and sat beside her, brushing her damp hair from her face. "You don't even know what you've done, do you?" he murmured, voice soft but raw. "You've torn something open… inside me too."
He reached for her hand.
The bond crackled.
A searing heat shot through his veins, not painful, but primal. Her presence pulled at him like gravity. Every inch of his being screamed to protect her, claim her, mark her as his.
But now wasn't the time.
He stood and summoned one of the ancient spellweavers—an old woman with bone-colored eyes and a scent of starlight. She touched Elira's forehead, whispered words in a forgotten tongue, and turned to Lucien with a grave nod.
"She is not dying. But she is changing."
Lucien frowned. "Into what?"
The woman only smiled. "Into what fate demands."
---
Elira awoke the next evening. The world smelled different—sharper, deeper. She could hear whispers through stone walls, feel heat in Lucien's footsteps before he entered the room. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, her fingers tingling with energy.
She felt... alive in a way she never had before.
Lucien entered, dressed in black as always, but tonight his shirt was open at the throat, revealing the carved planes of his chest, pale and marked by old scars. His eyes locked on hers.
"You're awake."
She nodded slowly. "I feel… strange. Like I'm someone else."
"You're still you," he said, approaching, "but your blood remembers what the world forgot. Omega blood is magic in its purest form—unclaimed, untouched, wild."
He stopped at the edge of the bed, his voice dropping low. "And it calls to me like a storm to fire."
Their eyes locked, and the room grew still. The air between them shimmered, thick with unspoken need.
"I need to train you," he said, stepping closer, "but the bond… it's getting harder to resist."
Elira sat up, heart pounding. "What do you mean?"
Lucien's gaze dropped to her throat. "Your magic woke something ancient in me. Something I've buried for centuries. And now…" He stepped forward, his voice a growl. "Every part of me is drawn to you. I crave you, Elira."
Her breath caught.
He was close enough to touch, and the hunger in his eyes wasn't just for blood.
"I don't want you to be afraid," he whispered. "But I'm not human. And the part of me that's still a beast… wants to taste you."
She looked up at him, her pulse racing. "Then do it."
His eyes darkened. "You don't know what you're saying."
"I do." Her voice trembled, but not with fear. "I trust you."
Lucien groaned softly, torn between restraint and instinct. His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair. He pulled her close, and for a breathless moment, their lips hovered—danger and desire tangled like threads of silk.
Then his lips brushed her skin—her throat—and his voice was barely more than a breath:
"Tell me to stop."
She didn't.
With a low growl, his fangs extended. She gasped, feeling the cool air shift as his lips pressed against her neck. A sharp sting—then fire.
Lucien bit down.
Pain and pleasure collided. Her body arched against his as he drank, not just blood—but memory, power, emotion. Her fear, her longing, her trust—he tasted it all.
And she felt him too—his loneliness, his rage, the centuries of hunger buried beneath his calm. It wasn't just feeding.
It was bonding.
When he pulled back, his lips were stained crimson, his breath ragged. "You're mine now," he whispered, voice trembling. "And I'm already yours."
Elira's hand reached up, touching his cheek.
"I was yours the moment you looked at me like I wasn't just prey."