The training hall of the Blackwood Estate was buried deep beneath the earth, a cavernous space carved from ancient obsidian. Here, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs, cold iron, and the residual power of a hundred Alpha generations. There were no windows, no distractions—only the flickering light of torches that cast long, dancing shadows against the walls.
Ava stood in the center of the hall, her chest heaving. She was dressed in thin training leathers that clung to her damp skin. Opposite her, Silas had discarded his shirt, his muscular torso gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat. He looked less like a businessman now and more like a god of war, the dark tattoos on his arms seemingly writhing in the torchlight.
"Again," Silas commanded, his voice echoing in the vast space.
"I can't," Ava gasped, leaning forward with her hands on her knees. "The Moon Ceremony is a trial of purity, Silas. How can you 'train' for a divine judgment? If the Silver Stone senses Marcus's blood in my womb, it will incinerate me. You're asking me to fight the Goddess herself."
Silas moved then, a blur of shadow and raw speed. Before Ava could blink, he was behind her, his chest pressed against her back, his arms reaching around to grip her wrists. His skin was scorching, a stark contrast to the chilled air of the cavern.
"The Goddess doesn't judge by human morality, Ava," Silas hissed into her ear, his breath hot and intoxicating. "She judges by strength. The Silver Stone reacts to the dominant frequency of the soul. If your soul is weak, it shatters. If your soul is bonded to something more powerful than the Stone... it bows."
Ava shivered, but not from the cold. "Bonded? You mean a mate bond? We don't have one. That's the whole point of this lie."
"Then we create a fake one," Silas muttered. He turned her around in his arms, his grey eyes burning with an intensity that made her knees feel like water. "There is an ancient, forbidden ritual—a blood tether. It's not a true mate bond, but it will weave our scents and our life forces together so tightly that not even the Sacred Stone will be able to tell where I end and you begin."
Ava's eyes widened. "A blood tether? That's dark magic, Silas. If the Council finds out—"
"The Council will be too busy kneeling to the new Luna to ask questions," he interrupted. He reached for a ceremonial dagger on a nearby pedestal, its blade forged from volcanic glass.
He didn't hesitate. He drew the blade across his palm, a thick, crimson line appearing instantly. Then, he held the dagger out to Ava.
His eyes locked onto hers, silent and demanding. Ava took a shaky breath, her fingers trembling as she took the cold hilt. She closed her eyes and made a small cut on her own palm. The sting was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the roaring of her blood in her ears.
"Give me your hand," Silas commanded.
When their palms met, Ava felt a jolt like a lightning strike. Silas laced his fingers with hers, pressing the wounds together, forcing their blood to mingle and smear.
Suddenly, the world tilted. Ava's vision exploded into colors she didn't know existed. She felt a rush of memories that weren't hers—the smell of a winter forest, the roar of a thousand wolves, the crushing loneliness of a throne, and a hunger... a deep, aching hunger for a woman with golden hair and defiant eyes.
His memories. His emotions.
"Silas..." she gasped, her head falling back against his shoulder as the psychic connection deepened.
"Stay with me, Ava," Silas growled, his voice sounding as if it were coming from inside her own mind. "Focus on my scent. Focus on the Blackwood mark. Visualize the silver fire turning to gold as it touches you."
He pulled her closer, his free hand sliding up to the back of her neck, his thumb pressing into the sensitive spot right at the base of her skull. The intimacy was overwhelming. It wasn't just physical; he was invading her mind, mapping her fears, wrapping his darkness around her light.
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut. "You're risking your soul for a rogue and a child that isn't yours."
Silas paused, his grip tightening. For a moment, the link between them flickered with an emotion so raw, so agonizingly tender, that it broke Ava's heart. It was a silent confession he would never say out loud: Because since the moment you walked into my study, I haven't been able to breathe without you.
But when he spoke, the mask of the Alpha was back.
"I told you, Ava. I don't lose my property. And Marcus thinks he can take something from me? He's about to find out that Silas Blackwood doesn't just protect what's his—he consumes the world to keep it."
He leaned down then, his lips hovering just a fraction of an inch above hers. The blood tether was singing, a low, thrumming vibration that made her entire body ache for a contact that went beyond a handshake.
"The ceremony is in forty-eight hours," Silas murmured, his eyes fixed on her mouth. "Until then, you stay in this room with me. We will eat together, sleep together, and I will continue to bleed into your spirit until the Stone sees only me when it looks at you."
"And after the ceremony?" Ava asked, her voice a mere breath. "What happens when the lie is complete?"
Silas's gaze darkened, a storm of possessiveness swirling in the grey depths. He didn't answer. Instead, he claimed her mouth in a kiss that was anything but a lie. It was a claim. It was a seal. It was a promise of a war that was only just beginning.
As Ava leaned into him, her hands clutching his scarred shoulders, she realized with a terrifying clarity that she had traded one hunter for another. Marcus wanted her dead, but Silas... Silas wanted her entire.
And as the forbidden magic settled into her bones, she knew she would let him take everything, as long as he never let her go.