Page 25 of The Blood Moon Oath

Sable steps back instinctively, her glare unyielding but her body betraying her—tiny, defensive movements that scream self-preservation. I can see her chest rise and fall as she breathes quicker, matching the erratic beat of my own pulse.

“You think you can keep testing me?” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. “You’re playing a game you don’t know the rules to, little huntress.”

She backs up again, her shoulder brushing against the wall behind her, and I see the realization dawn in her eyes—there’s nowhere else to go. Still, she doesn’t flinch. Her chin tilts upward, a challenge in the set of her jaw, even as I close the final distance between us.

I plant my hand against the wall near her head, the muscles in my arm flexing as I cage her in. The firelight casts dancing shadows across her face, illuminating the defiance in her expression. Her lips part slightly, but the flame in her eyes doesn’t falter. If anything, it burns hotter, a silent rebellion that dares me to push further.

“You don’t scare me,” she says, though her voice wavers just slightly, betraying the tension coiled in her frame.

I lean closer, my breath brushing against her skin. “No?” Imurmur, my tone a dangerous whisper. “Then why are you backing away?”

Her throat works as she swallows hard, but she doesn’t answer. Instead, she presses herself further into the wall, as though trying to escape the inevitable. The faint scent of her—wild, electric—mixes with the heat radiating off her skin, and I can feel the pull of her defiance like a physical thing. It tugs at something primal in me, something dark and unyielding.

My free hand brushes the side of her waist, deliberate and slow, and I watch her reaction like a predator gauging its prey. Her breath hitches, just barely, and I can’t stop the smirk that curves my lips.

“You don’t scare me,” she repeats, her voice firmer this time, but there’s an edge of something else there now—uncertainty, or maybe anticipation.

“I should.” My voice drops to a low growl. “You’re not leaving. No matter how hard you try, no matter what you do, you’ll never escape.”

Her breath catches, but the defiance remains. “I hate you.”

“Good,” I bite out. My resolve is crumbling, the line between anger and desire blurred. The scent of her fills my senses, and my hand moves of its own accord, brushing against her throat. She flinches slightly, but instead of pulling away, she holds her ground, her chest heaving as my fingers tighten just enough to make her pulse quicken.

“I said I hate you,” she whispers, but there’s a tremor in her voice that betrays her, and it sends a thrill through me.

“Do you?” I murmur, my voice dipping into a dangerous whisper as I lean closer, the space between us almost nonexistent. My powers stir within me, unfurling like a predator testing the air for prey. A part of me knows what I’m about to do, recognizes the significance, the weight of it—but I can’t stop. I don’twant to stop.

The energy seeps from me, invisible tendrils reaching toward her. It’s instinctive, primal, as if some unseen force is urging me forward. My powers snake around her wrist, slow and deliberate, testing her as much as myself. There’s no resistance. Instead, they grip her, pulling her closer, and I feel something within me lock into place, an undeniable pull.

This is the binding.

A warlock’s bond is no trivial thing. It’s a mark of permanence, of inescapable connection, used only in the rarest of circumstances—between those who trust implicitly, or those who can’t escape each other’s gravity. My mind screams at me to stop, to pull back before the act becomes irreversible, but my body betrays me, compelled by something far older and darker than logic. I grit my teeth, fighting the war within myself even as I let the magic flow.

Her gasp pierces the air, sharp and raw, and I feel it reverberate through me like a strike to the chest. There’s pain in the sound, yes, but it’s layered with something else. Something warmer. Something heady. The connection snaps into place, sudden and absolute, and I feel the searing brand burn into both our wrists. The sensation is a clash of agony and ecstasy, a white-hot tether that binds us in ways I don’t fully comprehend.

I groan low in my throat as the first flickers of her essence begin to seep through the bond—a faint hum at the edge of my senses, like an echo of her emotions. Fear. Anger. And beneath it all, a pulsing undercurrent of desire that she hasn’t yet acknowledged. It makes my blood run hotter, my control hanging by a thread.

The light fades, and I glance down at our wrists. A dark, intricate band circles hers now, the design delicate yet unyielding. It looks like vines twisted with thorns, each curve etched with the faintest glow of residual power. I lift my own wristand find the same mark mirrored there, a permanent reminder of what I’ve just done.

“What did you do?” she breathes, her voice shaky but laced with a sharp edge. Her wide eyes flick to the mark on her wrist, then back to me, suspicion and confusion warring in her gaze.

I take her wrist gently, turning it so she can see the full extent of the mark. “Nothing you didn’t consent to,” I say, my voice low and steady, the faintest smirk tugging at my lips as her brows furrow in disbelief.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she demands, trying to pull her arm back, but I hold firm, the warmth of her skin sparking against my palm.

I lean closer, my voice dropping to a near-growl. “The binding only works if both parties consent. Somewhere, deep down, you wanted this. You wanted to be tied to me. To us.”

Her breath catches, her body tense beneath my touch. I let my thumb trace the edge of the mark, feeling the faint hum of the bond pulse between us like a heartbeat. My powers stir again, testing the connection, and I feel her shudder, whether from anger or something else entirely, I can’t say.

“This is madness,” she whispers, her voice breaking slightly.

I meet her gaze, the weight of the binding settling over me. “No, little huntress. This is inevitability.”

Chapter

Sixteen

KAEL

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