"Round's not over yet, Omega," I warn her as I slowly pull free. She gasps at the sensation, the sudden emptiness after being so full. My seed spills out of her, marking the sheets, and the sight of it sends a possessive thrill through me. "We've got all night."
She doesn't respond, but I feel her renewed determination through the bond—and beneath it, an exhaustion she's trying to hide.
I let her have a moment, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling where shadows dance in patterns only I can control. My body is satisfied in a way it hasn't been in centuries, but my mind is restless. I've revealed too much. Shown too much. The smart thing would be to close those walls back up, pretend this moment of weakness never happened.
But I find I don't want to.
When it's over and we lie tangled in black silk sheets, both of us panting for air, my shadows moving around us slowly, shifting and settling, I sense something fundamental shift in our connection. The fated mate bond has solidified, becoming a permanent bridge between our magic and our emotions. I can feel her exhaustion, her self-loathing, her renewed hatred—all of it crystal clear across the bond we now share.
I prop myself up on one elbow, trying to catch my fucking breath at the same time, studying her in the shifting shadows. Her face is turned away from me, her body rigid despite her physical exhaustion. Marks from my hands, my mouth, my shadows decorate her golden skin—temporary brands of possession that satisfy something primal in me.
I've had countless women over the centuries, but something about this one is different. The intensity of her hatred, the quality of her defiance, the way her magic interacts with mine—it's unlike anything I've experienced before. I want more. I want all of her—not just her body, but her surrender, her submission, her soul.
The realization is unsettling.
"You know," I observe, breaking the heavy silence, "most brides cry on their wedding night, but you're not like them. You tried to kill me with hairpins, then practically broke my fucking collarbone with your knee. I think we're off to a promising start."
She doesn't respond, but I feel the spike of renewed anger through our bond.
I lean down and start tracing the line of her spine with one finger, watching goosebumps rise in its wake.
"Your light magic is... unusual," I continue, trailing my hand to a scratch she left on my arm. "Too aggressive for standard Light Court training. Wonder what Erlik would say if he could see how his son is failing to tame a mere light-bearer's daughter."
She's quiet for a moment, and I feel her processing the name through our bond—the context from our earlier conversation settling into place.
"Did your father not tell you who you were marrying?" I continue, letting shadows flicker between my fingers. "The son of Erlik, the ruler of Karanlik, the Shadow Realm that borders your homeland?"
Her silence is answer enough. I laugh softly. "Seems there's much they didn't tell you."
"You'll never know my secrets," she says, her voice raw.
"I've now seen—and felt—most of your secrets, Omega," I counter, deliberately provocative. "The bond leaves little hidden between us."
She turns to face me then, eyes blazing, a magnificent vision of fury with her dark hair spilling across the black silk. "You know nothing about me."
"I know you respond to shadow magic with remarkable... sensitivity," I reply with a smirk, running a hand possessively down her side. "I know your body contradicts your mind in the most delightful fucking ways. And I know—" I lean closer, my lips nearly brushing her ear, my breath hot against her skin, "—that despite your hatred, you're curious about what else the bond might reveal."
Her scent is intoxicating—light and darkness mingling together, her sweat and mine, the lingering evidence of what just happened between us. I want to bury my face in her neck, breathe her in again, mark her throat with my teeth. The intensity of this desire unsettles me; I'm not accustomed to wanting someone so desperately after having had them so many times.
"The only thing I'm curious about," she says with quiet venom, breaking into my thoughts, "is how long it will take me to kill you."
I laugh, genuinely delighted by her continued defiance even now. "Hmm, yet another thing we have in common," I muse, shadows coiling lazily around us, sliding across her skin in possessive patterns. "A shared fascination with death. Perhaps this marriage has potential after all."
She attempts to move away, but my shadows hold her in place, wrapping around her wrists and ankles. "Unfortunately for your murderous ambitions, the fated mate bond makes it rather difficult for either of us to kill the other without suffering consequences. Didn't your father mention that little detail? Or was he too focused on using you as his weapon to bother with inconvenient truths?"
The flash of surprise in her eyes tells me he didn't. How interesting.
"If I die violently," I explain, tracing the curve of her breast with one finger, "you'll feel every moment of my death as if it were your own. And vice versa, of course. The bond links our life forces together—it's why such bonds are rarely formed willingly, and why fated mates are both blessed and cursed. The magic strengthens both participants, but at a terrible price. A rather effective matrimonial safeguard, don't you think? The pain would be... never-ending."
"You're lying," she whispers, but uncertainty clouds the bond between us.
"The bond doesn't permit lies, Omega. Test it if you don't believe me." I lean closer, inhaling the scent of her hair. "Try to kill me if you must—it would be fucking amusing to watch you try—but know that success means your own suffering." I trace the curve of her cheek with one finger, then slide my hand to her throat, feeling her pulse hammer beneath my palm. "We're bound now, for better or worse. Till death do us part... and beyond."
As my shadows begin to dance across her skin once more, I feel her renewed hatred through our bond, pure and perfect in its intensity. But there's something else too—something she's trying desperately to hide from herself as much as from me: a reluctant fascination with the power now flowing between us, the unique magic created when shadow and light merge.
I should be satisfied with what I've taken, but I'm not. Not even close. The sight of her marked by my hands, the memory of her unwilling responses, the taste of her still on my tongue—none of it is enough. I want more. I want everything. The realization hits me with unexpected force: I could become obsessed with this woman.
She turns her head, golden eyes burning into mine. "When I finally figure out how to kill you, Malakai, I won't use poison or magic. I'll use a kiliç, and I'll look into your eyes as the light leaves them. Just as you watched Asher die, the man I loved."
