Amara’s POV
The carriage door slammed shut, sealing us in darkness save for the flickering glow of enchanted lanterns that cast dancing shadows across velvet upholstery.
Cold night air drifted through hidden vents.
The scent of his cologne filled the confined space—something expensive and ancient that once made my heart race.
Now it only served as a warning, like the musk of a predator marking territory.
I pressed my face against the window glass.
The cobblestone path disappeared behind us, then the towering iron gates of the manor.
Beyond lay the moonlit forest road, lined with trees that looked like sentinels in the blue-white glow of the carriage’s mystical illumination.
Their branches reached toward us like skeletal fingers as we passed.
Killian sat across from me in the shadows.
Neither of us spoke.
The silence stretched taut between us like a wire ready to snap.
I watched my reflection ghosted over the glass—the cascade of platinum hair falling forward, the swollen ridge along my cheekbone that no amount of careful arrangement could hide.
In the window, my face looked like a stranger’s.
Someone else’s blood-bound mate.
Someone else’s burden.
“My mate,” he said finally, his voice low and controlled, “will not be caught flirting with unmated males.”
I didn’t turn my head.
“Amara.”
I turned to face him then, meeting his eyes directly.
I smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant.
My cheek throbbed with the movement, but I held the expression anyway.
“I apologize, my lord.”
His jaw clenched.
Even in the dim light, I could see the muscle tick.
“Don’t.”
“Oh no, please.” I leaned back against the plush seats, crossing my uninjured wrist over the bandaged one in my lap with deliberate composure.
“Allow me.
I apologize, my lord, for standing alone at the refreshment table while you conducted your very important blood-trade negotiations.
I apologize for accepting a glass of wine when I couldn’t locate my escort.
I apologize for responding when spoken to by a lord whose name I hadn’t yet learned.”
“Enough.”
“I’m just getting started.”
“Amara.”
“You brought me,” I said, my voice dropping lower, “to that gathering to display me.
Didn’t you?
To walk me in on your arm and let every lord in that ballroom see that the heir to Moonscar had claimed his fated mate—that she was beautiful and compliant and belonged to you.
Then the moment a silver-haired elder mentioned anything involving territory negotiations, you dropped my hand like it burned and walked away.”
His eyes shifted from their usual green to something darker.
Not the full crimson of bloodlust, but close.
The sign that his spirit Caius was stirring beneath the surface.
“You were not to speak with him.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“You should have known.”
“How, my lord?”
He didn’t answer.
“How was I supposed to know,” I continued, “which of the lords in that room was on your list of forbidden contacts?
I’ve never attended one of those blood gatherings before.
I don’t know the politics.
You didn’t brief me.
You didn’t even introduce me properly.
You left me beside a table of delicacies in a room full of strangers and then acted shocked when one of them acknowledged my presence.”
“He knew exactly what he was doing.”
“And I didn’t.”
His mouth formed a tight line.
“I’m certain,” I pressed on, “every vampire in that ballroom witnessed you drag me out to the moonlit garden.
I’m sure those who missed it heard about it before the last waltz ended.
You wanted to demonstrate dominance, my lord.
You certainly succeeded.
You demonstrated it so thoroughly that the other mated females likely returned to their lords with stories of how the Moonscar heir disciplines his blood-bound in the hedge maze.
Whatever rumors you were trying to suppress tonight, you fed them yourself.”
The silence that followed was no longer a taut wire.
It was a held breath.
He stared at me for a long moment.
His face remained motionless, his hands still.
Only his eyes moved—studying, calculating.
“Striking you,” he said at last, with careful control, “may not have been the optimal choice.”
I rolled my eyes.
Not subtly—a complete, theatrical gesture that involved my entire head.
“Remarkable.”
“Amara.”
“No, truly.
An acknowledgment of error.
From a pureblood lord.
I am honored beyond measure.”
“I did not apologize.”
“Don’t worry.
I didn’t mistake it for one.”
He leaned forward slightly.
“Keep the gown.”
I laughed.
It wasn’t a long sound—brief, sharp, and ugly, escaping before I could stop it.
The movement made my cheek ache again.
“No.”
“It was a gift.”
“It was a costume.” I smoothed the silk over my knee with my good hand, maintaining perfect calm.
“I’ll have it cleaned by the finest seamstresses.
Pressed and returned to whichever boutique you procured it from.
You can drape it on the next female you wish to parade on your arm before abandoning her.”
“Amara—”
“That wasn’t a negotiation, my lord.”
He settled back into his seat.
He said nothing else for the remainder of our journey.
The carriage began to slow.
I recognized the familiar rhythm of wheels over the uneven path leading to my dwelling.
The ruts and bumps where smooth stone gave way to packed earth.
The particular groan of the suspension when we hit the depression just before the modest homes appeared.
We stopped.
I didn’t wait for the driver.
I opened the door myself.
“Thank you for a memorable evening,” I said without turning back.
I stepped out in my ruined slippers onto the dirt path.
I closed the door firmly behind me.
The cottage was dark.
I had left an enchanted lamp burning in the front room before we departed.
I was certain of it.
I had checked on my human mother, adjusted her blankets, activated the lamp so she would have light if she woke.
The lamp was extinguished.
I paused on the threshold.
Behind me, the carriage hadn’t moved.
The horses stamped restlessly, harnesses jingling.
Killian was watching, naturally.
I pushed the door open.
I stepped inside.
The air felt wrong—too warm, too close.
Someone was breathing who shouldn’t be here.
Something swung toward my head from the darkness.
Instinct took over.
I twisted aside as the lamp—my lamp, the one I’d left glowing, now torn free of its mystical tether—cracked against the wall beside my ear with a sound like breaking bone.
Enchanted crystal shards scattered across the floor, their glow fading.
My hand closed around a fistful of hair.
Long, silky, expensive hair.
I yanked hard.
Lydia shrieked.
I slammed her face-first into the wall beside the door.
The impact made a dull thud and her body sagged in my grip, though she continued struggling.
“What,” she spat, “did you do to my man?”
I didn’t dignify her with a response.
I tightened my grip on her hair and dragged her toward the entrance.
Out the door, down the step.
I didn’t give her a chance to find her footing.
She clawed at my wrist with manicured nails as I hauled her across the dirt in front of my dwelling and threw her down.
Face first into the mud.
“Stay away from me, Lydia.”
I slammed the door shut and threw the bolt home.
Immediately, I heard her outside—sobbing, screeching.
Then his voice, low and furious, cutting through her hysteria.
I couldn’t make out the words. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
I didn’t try.
I stood with my forehead against the cool wood and listened until the carriage wheels began to turn, until hoofbeats faded down the forest path.
Then I walked to the worn couch and sat down heavily.
I looked at the small beaded purse still looped around my bandaged wrist.
Something inside it vibrated softly.
I froze.
The vibration came again—a small, insistent buzzing.
My communication crystal—the one Killian had given me—sat on the kitchen counter where I always left it.
I could see its dim glow from here.
This buzzing was coming from the purse.
I worked the clasp open with my good hand.
A different crystal slid into my palm.
Smaller, cheaper.
The kind purchased from common merchants without providing identification.
Its surface was already glowing.
Several messages appeared in flowing script.
Amara.
This is Sebastian.
I placed this crystal in your purse before you left tonight.
Don’t speak aloud.
Tell me you made it home safely.
This connection cannot be traced.
Use it.
I stared at the words, thumb hovering over the crystal’s surface.
My finger moved before my mind could object.
I’m home, I traced carefully.
Thank you.
The response came immediately.
Good.
Listen carefully.
Jax and I want to help.
I’m not offering kindness.
I’m offering alliance.
There’s a difference.
Hide this crystal.
Keep it charged.
Don’t lie to me when I ask questions.
Lies make it impossible for me to help you.
I swallowed hard.
Understood.
One more thing.
If circumstances require it—and they may—anything you tell me through this crystal can serve as evidence against him.
Do you comprehend what I’m saying?
I understood perfectly.
My fingers trembled as I traced my response.
Thank you, Sebastian.
I doubt it will come to that.
His reply appeared almost instantly.
It might.
The final message remained glowing on the crystal’s surface.
Something deep in my chest told me that Sebastian wasn’t going to fade quietly from my existence.
This secret communication would only complicate my already desperate situation further.
But for the first time in months, I didn’t feel completely alone.