23

ONE CASTLE,TWO ENEMIES,ONE BED

“Run.”

Ronan didn’t run. Alphas don’t run. But he did grab Selene’s wrist and yank her toward the trees.

Her skin was ice. His mark seared like he’d grabbed a hot coal. Pain shot up his arm — not his. Hers.

The soul bond. Right. He could feel her now. Every heartbeat. Every hit of fear.

“Let go,” she hissed. “You’re burning me.”

“You’re freezing _me_,” he snarled back. But he didn’t let go.

The shadows in the trees weren’t following. They were circling. Herding.

Towards her castle.

Selene realized it too. “They want me home. Trapped.” Blood tears tracked down her cheeks. “If I step on Drayce land, the wards lock. Nothing gets in. Nothing gets out.”

“Including me?”

“Including you, wolf.”

Good. He could kill her in private.

They crashed through the castle gates at full sprint. Black stone. Twisted spires. Gargoyles that watched.

The second her boot hit the courtyard, the gates slammed shut. Red symbols flared on the iron. Then died.

Silence.

Ronan shoved her away. “Explain. Now.”

Selene wiped the blood from her face with her sleeve. Not graceful. Tired. “The Blood Moon Treaty. Every 200 years, when the moon runs red, a wolf and vampire must bleed together to renew peace. Or the old war restarts.”

“News to me.”

“Because your pack burned every treaty 200 years ago. After my coven killed your family.” She didn’t flinch when she said it. “We’ve both been lied to, Alpha.”

The word _family_ hit him like a fist. His claws shot out. “Don’t.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” She stepped closer. Too close. He could see the blood veins in her pale neck. His mouth watered. “Go ahead. We both die. The hunters win. The war restarts. Those 12 orphans you saw? They’ll be first.”

His wolf recoiled. _Protect. Not kill._

He hated her for that.

“How do we break it?”

“30 nights. We survive together. No bloodshed between us. On the 31st dawn, the bond breaks. We walk away.” Her red lips twisted. “If we’re alive.”

Ronan looked around. One castle. Centuries of dust. And only one tower with light.

“Please tell me there’s more than one bedroom.”

Selene’s smile was all fang. “There were. 200 years ago. The rest rotted.”

Of course.

---

*3 hours later.*

The bedroom was ridiculous. Gothic. Massive. One bed. Four posters, black silk, carved with wolves and bats. Like the universe was laughing at them.

Ronan took the floor. He tossed his leather jacket down. Fur. No shirt. Scars across his back — claw marks, old burns, one bite mark at his shoulder.

Selene froze in the doorway.

He felt it through the bond: a spike of heat. Not fear. Something else. Then she slammed it down. Ice again.

“Problem, leech?”

“You’re… bleeding.” Her voice was hoarse.

He looked down. The mark on his chest was weeping blood. So was hers. He could feel it. A slow, hot trickle between her breasts.

“The bond,” she said. “We’re sharing wounds. And hunger.”

As if she’d summoned it, his stomach cramped. Not for food. For blood. _Her_ blood. The winter rose scent was suddenly the only thing in the world.

His gums ached. Fangs punched down.

Selene backed up. Hit the door. “Don’t.”

“I’m not—” He couldn’t breathe. His vision went red at the edges. His wolf was roaring _MATE MATE MATE_. “What is this?”

“Soul bond side effect.” She was shaking. “I feel your hunger too. For meat. For the hunt. For…” She swallowed. “For me.”

The air went thick.

Ronan locked his muscles. Every instinct screamed _take her. bite her. claim her._

He grabbed the bedpost instead. Wood splintered.

“Get in the bed,” he ground out.

“What?”

“If I can see you, I can control it. If you’re behind me, my wolf thinks you’re prey.” He didn’t look at her. “Bed. Now. Back to back. No touching.”

Silence. Then rustling silk.

He felt the mattress dip. Felt her cold seep through the air.

He laid down on top of the covers. As far from her as possible. Staring at the ceiling. Every muscle locked.

“Ronan.” Her voice was small.

“What.”

“Thank you. For earlier. With the hunters. You… protected me.”

He didn’t answer. Because his wolf was purring. _She said my name. She’s safe. Mine._

Traitor.

“I didn’t do it for you,” he lied. “I did it for the bond.”

“Liar.” But she sounded almost… soft.

He felt her shiver. She was always cold. Always.

Before he could think, he grabbed a fur blanket from the floor and tossed it behind him. It landed on her.

He felt her startle. Then… warmth. Not physical. In the bond. Like someone had lit a candle in a tomb.

“You didn’t have to,” she whispered.

“Shut up and sleep, vampire.”

She did. In 20 minutes, her breathing went deep. Even. He felt it. Her dreams were sad. Lonely. Empty castle. Empty years.

His chest hurt. Not the mark. Something deeper.

He stared at the ceiling all night. Not sleeping. Guarding.

Because the hunters were still out there.

And because if he slept, he might turn over.

And if he turned over, he might touch her.

And if he touched her, he might not want to stop.

*Rule #2: Don’t fall for your enemy.*

*Rule #2: In danger.*