The scream that pierced the night air was not one of pleasure, but of terror—and Princess Seraphina Valdris knew the difference intimately. She pressed herself against the cold stone wall of the castle's highest tower, her heart hammering against her ribs as she peered through the narrow window at the courtyard below. Flames danced across the cobblestones where bodies lay twisted in unnatural positions, their blood pooling like dark mirrors beneath the crimson moon.
War had come to Astoria at last.
"Your Highness." The voice behind her was soft as silk, but carried the weight of tempered steel. Seraphina didn't turn around—she couldn't. Not when she knew whose voice it was, and not when her body betrayed her so completely at the mere sound of it.
Prince Darius Nocturn stood in the shadows of her chambers, uninvited and unwelcome, yet somehow inevitable. She could feel the heat of his presence like a brand against her spine, could smell the metallic tang of battle that clung to him like a second skin. When she finally found the courage to face him, her breath caught in her throat.
He was magnificent in his violence.
Blood spattered his midnight-black armor, and his silver hair fell in disheveled waves around a face that belonged in nightmares—or fevered dreams. His eyes, pale as winter ice, held a darkness that made her soul shiver with something that wasn't entirely fear. A wicked smile played at the corners of his mouth, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp, too predatory.
"You're trespassing," she whispered, hating how breathless she sounded.
"Am I?" His voice was a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her bones. "I thought we had an arrangement, Princess. Or have you forgotten the terms of our little agreement so soon?"
How could she forget? The memory was burned into her mind like a brand: three months ago, when the first reports of the Shadow Army's advance reached Astoria's borders. Her father, King Aldric, had been desperate enough to consider the unthinkable—an alliance with the very kingdom that had been their enemy for generations. The Kingdom of Nyx, ruled by the infamous Shadow King and his son, the Prince of Nightmares.
Darius Nocturn.
She had been the one to suggest the marriage alliance, knowing it was the only way to save her people from annihilation. Her father had looked at her with something between pride and horror when she volunteered herself as the sacrificial lamb. But she had conditions—conditions that Darius had agreed to with an enthusiasm that left her more unsettled than comforted.
"The terms were clear," she said, lifting her chin with a defiance she didn't feel. "A political marriage. Nothing more."
His laugh was like dark honey, rich and dangerous. "Oh, my sweet Seraphina. Did you really think it would be that simple?"
The way he said her name—like a caress, like a threat—made heat pool low in her belly. She pressed her thighs together, horrified by her body's response to this creature who represented everything she should despise.
"You agreed to the conditions," she reminded him, though her voice lacked conviction.
"I agreed to marry you," he corrected, taking a step closer. The moonlight caught the silver threads in his hair, making him look otherworldly. "I never agreed to keep my hands to myself."
Another step. The space between them crackled with tension so thick she could taste it on her tongue.
"The wedding isn't for another week," she said desperately. "The ceremony—"
"Is a formality." His voice dropped to a whisper that seemed to echo in her very soul. "We are already bound, Princess. The moment you signed that contract in blood, you became mine."
The memory of that night flooded back with devastating clarity. The hidden meeting in the abandoned chapel beyond the castle walls. The ancient binding ritual that seemed more suited to dark magic than political alliance. The ceremonial dagger that had opened her palm, mixing her blood with his in a goblet of black obsidian.
She had told herself it was just theater, an archaic tradition to seal their agreement. But the moment their blood had mingled, she had felt something fundamental shift inside her. A connection that went deeper than politics, darker than duty.
"That was symbolic," she whispered, but even she could hear the lie in her words.
"Was it?" He was close enough now that she could see the flecks of silver in his pale eyes, could feel the supernatural warmth that radiated from his skin. "Then tell me, Princess—why do you wake each night with my name on your lips? Why do your dreams taste of shadow and sin?"
Heat flooded her cheeks. How could he know about the dreams that had plagued her for months? The vivid, explicit fantasies that left her aching and ashamed come morning?
"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied.
His smile was pure predator. "Shall I describe them for you? The way you beg for my touch in the darkness of your mind? The way you arch beneath me like a bow drawn taut, crying out for more?"
"Stop." The word came out as barely a breath.
"The way you clench around me when I whisper all the wicked things I plan to do to you?" He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing her ear. "The way you shatter so beautifully when I finally let you fall?"
Her knees nearly buckled. The dreams he described were so vivid, so real, that sometimes she woke with phantom marks on her skin. Marks that matched the ones she could see now on his hands—thin, silvery scars that seemed to pulse with their own light.
"Those aren't my dreams," she whispered desperately. "They can't be."
"Can't they?" His finger traced the line of her jaw, and she shivered at the contact. His touch burned like ice and fire combined. "The blood bond doesn't lie, Seraphina. It shows us our deepest truths, our darkest desires. And your desire..." His thumb brushed across her lower lip. "Your desire is me."
She jerked away from his touch, pressing herself against the window. "You're wrong. I could never want someone like you."
"Someone like me?" His voice turned dangerously soft. "And what am I, Princess?"
The words tumbled out before she could stop them. "A monster. A killer. The Prince of Nightmares who bathes in the blood of innocents."
Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, perhaps? But it was gone so quickly she might have imagined it.
"You're right," he said quietly. "I am all of those things. But you want me anyway, don't you? Despite everything you've been told about me, despite every instinct that screams at you to run." He moved closer again, trapping her against the window. "You want me to touch you. To claim you. To make you mine in every way that matters."
"No." But even as she said it, her body betrayed her. Her nipples peaked beneath the thin silk of her nightgown, and she could feel the dampness gathering between her thighs.
"Liar." His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb stroking across her skin with devastating gentleness. "Your body knows the truth, even if your mind refuses to accept it. We are bound, Seraphina. Soul to soul, darkness to light. You cannot escape me any more than I can escape you."
The truth of his words settled over her like a shroud. She had felt it from the moment their blood mingled—this inexorable pull toward him that defied logic and morality. It was wrong, this desire for her enemy. It was betrayal of everything she had been raised to believe.
But it was also undeniable.
"Why?" she whispered. "Why me?"
His smile was softer now, almost tender. "Because you're the only person who has ever looked at me and seen something worth saving."
The confession hung between them like a bridge across an impossible chasm. For a moment, she saw past the armor and the blood, past the reputation and the fear. She saw a man who carried the weight of a kingdom's darkness on his shoulders, who had been shaped by violence but not broken by it.
"I don't understand any of this," she admitted.
"You don't have to understand it." His other hand came up to frame her face, holding her gently as if she were made of spun glass. "You only have to feel it."
And God help her, she did feel it. The connection between them thrummed like a living thing, binding them together with threads of desire and destiny. When he leaned down to brush his lips against hers, she didn't pull away.
The kiss was soft at first, almost reverent. His lips were warm and firm, moving against hers with a patience that surprised her. But when she made a small sound of surrender, something shifted between them. His grip tightened, and the kiss deepened into something hungry and desperate.
She tasted copper and darkness on his tongue, the flavor of battles fought and won. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer even as her mind screamed that this was madness. He groaned against her mouth, the sound vibrating through her chest and straight to her core.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard. His eyes had darkened to the color of storm clouds, and she could see her own want reflected in them.
"This doesn't change anything," she whispered against his lips.
"Doesn't it?" His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip, now swollen from his kiss. "You can lie to yourself if you must, Princess. But you cannot lie to me. Not anymore."
Before she could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor outside her chambers. They sprang apart just as her bedroom door burst open, revealing her personal guard captain and three soldiers.
"Your Highness!" Captain Marcus rushed forward, sword drawn. "We heard voices—" He stopped short when he saw Darius, his face going pale. "Prince Nocturn."
Darius inclined his head with mocking courtesy. "Captain. I trust you've come to escort me to more comfortable accommodations?"
"How did you get past the guards?" Marcus demanded, though his sword remained pointed at the floor. Even he wasn't foolish enough to threaten the Prince of Nightmares directly.
"The same way I got past your army," Darius replied with casual arrogance. "Your defenses have always been... inadequate."
Seraphina stepped between them before the situation could escalate. "It's fine, Marcus. The Prince and I were discussing the final arrangements for our wedding."
Marcus looked skeptical, his gaze moving between them with obvious suspicion. No doubt he could sense the tension crackling in the air, could see the flush on her cheeks and the way Darius watched her with predatory intensity.
"Of course, Your Highness," Marcus said carefully. "But perhaps such discussions would be more appropriate in a more... public setting?"
"Quite right," Darius agreed smoothly. "I was just leaving." He moved toward the window, and for a moment she thought he meant to climb down from the tower like some romantic hero from a fairy tale. Instead, shadows seemed to coalesce around him, wrapping him in darkness.
"Until tomorrow night, Princess," he said, his voice already fading into the darkness. "Dream of me."
And then he was gone, vanished as if he had never been there at all. Only the lingering scent of cedar and steel remained, along with the phantom warmth of his touch on her skin.
Marcus and his men searched the room thoroughly, but of course found nothing. After they left, posting guards outside her door, Seraphina sank onto her bed and pressed shaking fingers to her lips.
She could still taste him.
The realization should have disgusted her. Instead, it sent another wave of heat through her body. What was happening to her? How could she want someone who represented everything she had been taught to hate?
But even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. The blood bond had awakened something inside her, something dark and hungry that she had never known existed. And now that it was loose, she feared she would never be able to cage it again.
She fell asleep that night with his name on her lips, just as he had predicted. And in her dreams, he came to her again, his hands and mouth mapping every inch of her skin until she cried out in ecstasy and shame.
When she woke, there were new marks on her wrists—thin silver scars that matched the ones she had seen on his hands. The blood bond was growing stronger, and with it, her inexorable slide toward damnation.
---
The next morning brought news that changed everything.
Seraphina was breaking her fast in the solar when her lady-in-waiting, Elena, burst through the doors with tears streaming down her face.
"Your Highness," she sobbed, falling to her knees. "Forgive me, but I bring terrible news."
Seraphina set down her cup of tea with trembling hands. "What is it?"
"Your brother, Princess. Prince Adrian... he's been taken."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Adrian was her twin, her other half, the only person in the world who truly understood her. "Taken? By whom?"
"The Shadow Army, Your Highness. They ambushed his patrol near the eastern border. There were no survivors except for one messenger, who barely escaped with his life."
Seraphina was on her feet before Elena finished speaking, her breakfast forgotten. "How long ago?"
"Three days, Your Highness. The messenger only just arrived."
Three days. Adrian had been in enemy hands for three days while she had been kissing his captor. Bile rose in her throat at the thought.
"Summon my father," she commanded. "And prepare my riding clothes. I'm going after him."
"Your Highness, you cannot—"
"I can and I will." Her voice cracked like a whip. "Adrian is my brother. I won't leave him to rot in some Nyx dungeon."
But even as she spoke the words, she knew it was more complicated than that. The blood bond that tied her to Darius also tied her to his kingdom, his family, his darkness. If she rode to war against Nyx, she would be fighting against a part of herself.
The thought should have strengthened her resolve. Instead, it only added another layer to her guilt and confusion.
King Aldric was waiting for her in the war room when she arrived, still fastening her leather jerkin. His face was haggard, aged a decade in the space of a night.
"Seraphina," he said heavily. "I've heard the news."
"Then you know we have to act quickly," she replied. "Every moment we delay gives them time to move him deeper into their territory."
"It's not that simple." Her father gestured to the map spread across the table, marked with the positions of both armies. "This could be a trap. They take Adrian, we rush to rescue him, and they destroy us in the field."
"Or it could be a test," she countered. "They want to see if we'll honor our agreement even when they've broken theirs."
"Have they broken it?" The question came from the doorway, where Darius now stood as if he had materialized from shadow itself.
Every head in the room turned toward him, hands moving to sword hilts. But Seraphina found herself stepping forward instead of back, her body recognizing him as something other than enemy.
"You dare show your face here?" King Aldric's voice shook with rage. "After what your people have done?"
"My people?" Darius raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly have they done, Your Majesty?"
"They've taken my son," Aldric snarled. "Your wedding treaty be damned."
Darius was quiet for a long moment, his pale eyes unreadable. When he spoke, his voice was carefully neutral. "I gave no such order."
"Are you saying you had nothing to do with Adrian's capture?" Seraphina demanded.
"I'm saying I gave no order to harm your brother." His gaze moved to her, and she saw something that might have been sincerity in his eyes. "The treaty between our kingdoms is sacred to me, Seraphina. I would not break it so carelessly."
"Then who—" she began, but he cut her off with a sharp gesture.
"There are... factions within my kingdom who oppose this alliance," he admitted. "They see your brother as a threat to be eliminated, not a future ally to be protected."
"Factions?" King Aldric leaned forward. "You mean you don't control your own people?"
Something dangerous flickered in Darius's eyes. "I control those who matter. But some of the old guard still remember when Astoria and Nyx painted the fields red with each other's blood. They are... reluctant to embrace peace."
"Then get them under control," Seraphina snapped. "Or the treaty is void."
"Is it?" He moved closer, his presence filling the room like gathering storm clouds. "Because last I checked, you were the one who agreed to bind yourself to me. Blood calls to blood, Princess. You cannot simply walk away."
The reminder of their bond sent heat spiraling through her, and she hated herself for it. "Watch me."
His smile was sharp as a blade. "Very well. But know this—your brother's fate is tied to your choice. Marry me as planned, and I will move heaven and earth to bring him home safely. Refuse..." He shrugged eloquently.
"You bastard," she breathed. "You're using him as leverage."
"I'm offering you a solution," he corrected. "Your brother is being held by Lord Malachar, one of my father's most trusted generals. The man despises humans and would sooner see your brother dead than allied to our kingdom. But he will not openly defy a direct order from his future queen."
The trap was elegant in its simplicity. Marry Darius and gain the power to save Adrian, but bind herself irrevocably to the enemy. Refuse, and watch her brother die for her principles.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" she asked.
"You don't." His honesty was more convincing than any protestation of innocence could have been. "But you know the alternative. Lord Malachar has a reputation for creative torture. Your brother has perhaps days before he breaks completely."
The image his words conjured made her stomach revolt. Adrian, who collected butterflies and wrote poetry, in the hands of a sadist. She couldn't bear it.
"Give me proof of life," she demanded. "Show me he's alive, and I'll go through with the wedding."
Darius nodded as if he had expected no less. From his coat, he produced a small crystal sphere that pulsed with inner light. When he whispered words in a language she didn't recognize, the sphere cleared to show an image.
Adrian, chained to a wall in what looked like a dungeon cell. His clothes were torn and dirty, his face bruised, but his eyes were still bright with defiance. He was alive, but for how long?
"The wedding will take place tomorrow night," Darius said, making the image disappear. "The new moon provides the ideal conditions for the binding ritual."
"Tomorrow?" King Aldric protested. "That's impossible. We need time to prepare—"
"Time is a luxury your son doesn't have," Darius cut him off. "Every day he remains in Malachar's custody is another day closer to madness or death."
Seraphina closed her eyes, feeling the weight of impossible choices pressing down on her. Save her brother by damning herself, or let him die to preserve her freedom. It wasn't really a choice at all.
"Fine," she whispered. "Tomorrow night."
When she opened her eyes, Darius was watching her with something that might have been admiration. "You would sacrifice yourself for him."
"He's my brother."
"And what am I to you?"
The question hung in the air between them, loaded with meaning. What was he? Enemy? Ally? The man who haunted her dreams and set her blood on fire with just a touch?
"You're my future," she said quietly, surprised by her own honesty.
His smile this time was soft, almost vulnerable. "Yes. I am."
The rest of the day passed in a blur of preparation. Wedding gowns were fitted, flowers were arranged, guests were invited with supernatural speed. But Seraphina felt as if she were watching it all from a great distance, as if it were happening to someone else.
Elena helped her bathe and dress that evening, her touch gentle but her eyes worried. "Are you certain about this, Your Highness?"
"Certain?" Seraphina laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I've never been less certain of anything in my life. But I don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
"Not when it comes to family." She met Elena's eyes in the mirror. "He would do the same for me."
"And the Prince? What of him?"
What of him indeed? Seraphina touched her lips, remembering the taste of darkness and desire. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I suppose I'm about to find out."
As the sun set over the castle, painting the sky in shades of blood and gold, Seraphina prepared to walk down the aisle toward her destiny. The blood bond pulsed in her veins like a second heartbeat, calling her toward the man who would be her husband, her enemy, her salvation, and her damnation.
Tomorrow, she would be Princess Seraphina Nocturn, wife to the Prince of Nightmares. Tonight, she was still herself—but perhaps that was about to change forever.
The question was: would she survive the transformation?
---
The wedding took place in the ancient chapel beyond the castle walls, the same place where she and Darius had first mingled their blood. It was a fitting venue for a union born of necessity and bound by darkness.
Seraphina wore her grandmother's wedding gown, a creation of ivory silk and pearls that had been worn by Astoria's queens for generations. But the traditional white felt like a lie against her skin. She was no innocent bride coming pure to her marriage bed. The blood bond had awakened hungers in her that had nothing to do with purity or innocence.
Her father walked her down the aisle, his arm trembling beneath her hand. "It's not too late," he whispered as they approached the altar. "Say the word, and we'll find another way."
But there was no other way, and they both knew it. Adrian's life hung in the balance, and this marriage was the only thing that could save him.
Darius waited for her at the altar, magnificent in black leather and silver mail. His hair had been pulled back from his face, revealing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the pale fire of his eyes. When their gazes met, she felt the blood bond flare to life between them, a connection that seemed to burn through her veins.
The ceremony itself was a blend of Astoria and Nyx traditions, conducted by priests from both kingdoms. But when it came time for the vows, Darius surprised her by speaking words that seemed to come from his heart rather than ancient ritual.
"I take you as my wife," he said, his voice carrying clearly through the chapel. "Not because of treaties or alliances, but because you are the light that calls to my darkness. I swear to protect you, to cherish you, to be worthy of the trust you place in me."
The sincerity in his voice made her chest tight with emotion. When it was her turn to speak, she found herself meeting his honesty with her own.
"I take you as my husband," she said, surprised by the steadiness of her own voice. "Not because I have no choice, but because I choose you anyway. Despite the fear, despite the impossible odds, despite everything that says this is madness—I choose you."
Something shifted in his expression, a vulnerability that made him seem suddenly younger. When the priest pronounced them husband and wife, the kiss they shared was gentle, almost reverent. But beneath the tenderness, she could feel the darker currents of desire waiting to be unleashed.
The wedding feast was a more subdued affair than such celebrations usually were. The guests from both kingdoms eyed each other warily, and more than one hand rested on a sword hilt. But the food was excellent, the wine flowed freely, and no blood was shed. Seraphina supposed that counted as a success.
As the evening wore on, she found herself watching her new husband from across the hall. He moved through the crowd with predatory grace, accepting congratulations from the Nyx nobility while keeping one eye always on her. When their gazes met, heat flared between them like lightning.
"Nervous?" The voice belonged to Lord Kieran, one of Darius's companions who had introduced himself earlier.
"Should I be?" she asked.
Kieran's smile was knowing. "Darius has been... restrained... these past months. The blood bond requires consummation to be complete, and he's been waiting for your wedding night with remarkable patience."
Heat flooded her cheeks. "I see."
"Do you?" Kieran moved closer, his voice dropping. "The blood bond is not like human marriage, Princess. It is a melding of souls, a joining that goes deeper than flesh. When it is complete, you will be his in ways you cannot imagine. And he will be yours."
The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
"Is that supposed to be a warning?" she asked.
"A promise," he corrected. "You are about to discover just how deeply the darkness can love."
Before she could ask what he meant, Darius appeared at her side as if summoned by their conversation.
"Kieran," he said mildly, but there was steel beneath the silk. "I believe you have duties elsewhere."
Kieran bowed mockingly and melted back into the crowd, leaving them alone in the midst of the celebration.
"What did he say to you?" Darius asked.
"He was explaining blood bonds," she replied honestly.
Something flickered in his eyes. "And what did you think of his explanation?"
"I think," she said carefully, "that I'm about to find out if everything I've been told about them is true."
His smile was pure predator. "Oh, my sweet wife. You have no idea."
The endearment sent heat spiraling through her, and she had to look away to hide her reaction. But he was too observant, too attuned to her now to miss the way her breath caught.
"Shall we retire?" he asked softly. "I find myself eager to begin our marriage properly."
The suggestion made her pulse jump, but she managed to nod with something approaching composure. "Yes. I think it's time."
They made their excuses to the remaining guests and left the hall together, Darius's hand warm and possessive on the small of her back. The walk to their chambers—their chambers, she reminded herself, no longer just hers—seemed to take both forever and no time at all.
When the door closed behind them, the silence stretched between them like a held breath. Seraphina suddenly found herself uncertain, all her earlier boldness deserting her in the face of what was about to happen.
"Having second thoughts?" Darius asked gently.
"Third and fourth thoughts," she admitted. "But not about this. About... after. What happens when the bond is complete? What happens to me?"
He moved closer, his hands coming up to frame her face with heartbreaking tenderness. "You become yourself, only more so. The bond doesn't change who you are, Seraphina. It simply reveals who you were always meant to be."
"And who is that?"
"Mine," he said simply. "As I am yours."
The words should have felt like a cage. Instead, they felt like coming home.
When he kissed her this time, there was nothing gentle about it. His mouth claimed hers with desperate hunger, as if he had been starving for the taste of her. She met his passion with her own, her hands fisting in his hair as she pulled him closer.
The blood bond flared between them, hot and electric, turning every touch into liquid fire. When his hands found the fastenings of her gown, she didn't protest. When the silk pooled at her feet, leaving her bare except for her chemise, she felt beautiful rather than vulnerable.
"Perfect," he breathed against her throat, his lips trailing fire down the column of her neck. "You're perfect."
His own clothes seemed to melt away as if by magic, revealing a body that was all lean muscle and pale scars. He was beautiful in his violence, magnificent in his darkness, and she wanted him with a desperation that should have ashamed her.
Instead, she felt powerful.
When he lifted her and carried her to the bed, she went willingly. When he laid her down on the silk sheets and covered her body with his own, she arched up to meet him. And when he claimed her with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes, she understood at last what Kieran had meant.
The darkness could love, and it loved completely.
The consummation of their bond was both transcendent and carnal, a joining of souls that left them both changed. As their bodies moved together in ancient rhythm, Seraphina felt something fundamental shift inside her. The connection between them blazed like a star, binding them together in ways that had nothing to do with politics or convenience.
She was his, completely and irrevocably. But more importantly, he was hers.
When it was over, they lay entwined in the darkness, hearts still racing. Seraphina traced patterns on his chest, marveling at the silver scars that seemed to pulse with their own light.
"What are these?" she asked softly.
"Battle wounds," he replied. "Each one tells a story."
"Tell me."
So he did, his voice soft in the darkness as he recounted tales of wars fought and won, of enemies vanquished and allies saved. With each story, she understood him a little better, saw past the fearsome reputation to the man beneath.
"Your turn," he said when he had finished. "What are you afraid of?"
The question caught her off guard. "What do you mean?"
"Everyone is afraid of something. What keeps Princess Seraphina Valdris awake at night?"
She was quiet for a long moment, considering her answer. "Failure," she said finally. "I'm afraid of failing the people who depend on me. My father, my brother, my kingdom. You."
"You could never fail me."
"Couldn't I?" She turned in his arms to look at him. "I don't know how to be a Nyx princess. I don't know your customs, your laws, your people. What if I make a mistake that costs lives?"
"Then you'll learn from it and do better next time." His hand stroked through her hair with infinite gentleness. "You have something far more valuable than knowledge, Seraphina. You have heart. My people will see that, and they will love you for it."
"As you do?"
The words slipped out before she could stop them, vulnerable and desperate. But instead of pulling away, he cupped her face in his hands and looked directly into her eyes.
"Yes," he said simply. "As I do."
The confession hung between them like a bridge across an impossible chasm. Love—she hadn't expected that. Desire, yes. Possession, certainly. But love?
"I don't understand you," she whispered.
"You don't have to understand me," he replied. "You only have to trust me."
And despite everything—the blood on his hands, the darkness in his past, the impossibility of their situation—she found that she did trust him. More than that, she was beginning to love him too.
The realization should have terrified her. Instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
They made love again as dawn broke over the castle, slower this time, savoring each touch and kiss. When it was over, Seraphina felt fundamentally changed. The blood bond hummed between them now, constant and comforting, tying them together in ways she was only beginning to understand.
"What happens now?" she asked as they lay watching the sunrise through the window.
"Now," Darius said, his arms tightening around her, "we go to Nyx. Together."
"And Adrian?"
"Will be returned to you within the week. I give you my word."
She believed him. The blood bond made lying impossible between them, and she could feel the truth of his promise in her very bones.
"Together," she agreed, and meant it.
Whatever challenges lay ahead, whatever darkness they would have to face, they would face it as one. The Princess of Light and the Prince of Nightmares, bound by blood and sealed by love.
It was, she thought as sleep finally claimed her, a good beginning.
---
*End of Chapter 1*