Chapter 4: Of Blood and Breath
1215 Words
He entered like the moon itself had grown a spine and learned to walk.
Valerius shut the door behind him without touching it. The great iron slabs groaned into place, sealing us inside the chamber like a secret never meant to leave.
I blinked at the sound.
Not a lock.
A spell.
He didn’t say a word.
Only stepped further in, the torchlight dancing along the lines of his silver hair. It glistened like frost, tumbling in waves past his shoulders, a contrast to his ink-dark robes that whispered against the floor as he walked.
He began unfastening the layers each motion precise, slow, and ritualistic.
First the high collar, then the heavy mantle.
Then the buckles at his shoulders and hips.
Piece by piece until only a dark shirt and tailored trousers remained.
He stood tall impossibly tall with a body that looked carved, not born. Broad, lean, sculpted like a monument to forgotten gods.
I swallowed, my eyes locked on him longer than I meant.
Maybe he was actually attractive.
Maybe.
Still silent, he turned toward the hearthlight and finally spoke.
“You were staring.”
“I was observing,” I said without blinking.
He gave the ghost of a smirk. “And?”
“I suppose you’re not as horrific as the stories say.”
“And you’re not as fragile as I expected.” He moved closer, slow and steady, until we were a breath apart. “I’ve seen the way your eyes follow every door, every exit. Always calculating.”
“I’m not your prisoner,” I said quickly.
“No.” His voice dipped. “You’re my wife.”
That made me laugh. A small sound, surprised from my lips. “Right. The blood-bonded bride of the feared King of the Under Sky.”
He lifted a brow. “You doubt I’m him?”
“I don’t doubt. I just expected more… coldness.”
“Cold?” His eyes flickered. “Tell me, Seraphina. Would you rather I rip your gown and take what I’m owed, as your people claim I would? Or would you rather I speak first?”
That shut me up.
His tone wasn’t cruel.
Just… honest.
Then he stepped closer.
And placed a hand gently on my waist.
“I’m not interested in hurting you,” he said. “But we must… complete this. Our union is not just a ritual. It is the seal that keeps you alive here. The blood makes you one of us. But it fades.”
He leaned in, and before I could brace
his lips touched mine.
Cold.
Like he’d kissed snow before me.
Like his mouth had never known warmth, only winter.
I froze.
The kiss deepened, his hand sliding behind my neck with ease, the other tracing the curve of my waist. I told myself to resist, to pull away.
But something in me… surrendered.
My body traitorous leaned closer.
He kissed harder. Hungrier. His hand slid down, between my thighs, pressing slowly, firmly.
I gasped.
No one had ever touched me like this.
Not even him.
Not my wolf.
Not my true love.
I felt everything.
The ache. The betrayal. The burning.
I wanted to melt.
But instead I shattered.
I pushed him away, breaking from his grasp.
“Stop!”
He paused, breathing hard.
I was trembling. My eyes filled with rage. My voice cracked.
“All of this it’s your fault!” I shouted. “My people are scattered! My brother, he's gone! My wolf is missing! You stole me from my life and shoved me into this place like a cursed ornament!”
Tears stung my eyes. “I have no say. No freedom. No sun. Am I your queen or your prisoner?”
His gaze didn’t waver.
“I want to show you something.”
He led me to the towering doorway.
My hand was still trembling when he took it.
The hand that bore the blood mark.
“You’re mine now,” he said quietly. “And that means… you carry my blood. You can do what we do.”
I stared.
“You want to leave this room?” he whispered. “Then walk.”
He turned
And stepped onto air.
Just like before.
Only this time, he held out his hand.
I stared. Breathless. Terrified.
“What if I fall?” I whispered.
“I’ll catch you.”
I didn’t move.
He smiled. “Seraphina. Trust me, just this once.”
I stepped forward.
My bare foot hovered over the edge
And didn’t fall.
It floated.
Suspended.
Then the next foot.
I gasped. I was standing on air.
“Move with me,” he said. And he didn’t pull. He just… guided. Gently.
We moved. Across the invisible sky-bridge of power that only his kind could walk.
Only now, I was one of them.
I didn’t even notice when he let go of my hand.
Until I wobbled and cried out. I nearly fell
He caught me. Swift as wind. Arms around my waist.
“You’ll need practice,” he whispered into my hair.
I laughed, breathless. Giddy.
Then I kissed him.
Without warning.
Without thought.
This time I kissed him.
It deepened, slow, slow, then hungry.
Until I pulled away, gasping.
He stared at me, stunned.
Then said: “There’s only one problem. Blood is not enough.”
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“The bond will fade. Without… consummation. Without our bodies being one, the blood cannot root. It will weaken. And in time… you will die in this world. Or be cast out of it.”
My heart dropped.
“Give me time,” I said hoarsely.
He nodded. “You have it. But we sleep in the same chamber tonight. That, at least, is non-negotiable.”
He took my hand and led me back.
We walked together on air until the doorway of my chambers swallowed us again.
Later, in the warmth of my room, the torches now low, he placed something in my palm.
A ring.
Black stone set in silver, shaped like a crescent moon wrapped around a wolf’s eye.
“A gift,” he said.
“What’s it for?”
“It anchors my presence,” he said. “If you ever feel lost, touch it. I’ll come to you.”
I stared at the ring, then at him.
“Tell me something,” I whispered. “How does time work here? Nothing changes. No sun. Just… the moon.”
“It moves. Just slowly. Every full cycle of our moon is a full year in your world. You've been here… almost a day.”
I shivered. “That’s not possible.”
“Magic bends more than just space.”
“How long do I have before the bond fades?” I asked.
He met my eyes.
“Seven cycles of our moon,” he said. “Seven days here. Seven years out there. That’s all we have.”
And then he stepped closer.
Laid a hand on my cheek.
“Then I’ll wait,” he said. “But not forever.”
And with that, we laid down in the same bed.
Queen and King.
Bound by blood.
Split by desire.
And dangling from the edge of fate.
- Writer
