“She’s not my fiancée and willneverbe my fiancée.” Wrath brazenly corrects me. “You have no idea what that man you were with is capable of.”
“And you’re the pillar of honor and veneration?” I counter. “The most wicked king in Dratheria has the nerve to critiquemysense of company?”
“You’re one to judge.” The scar on Wrath’s neck flexes. “When you traded an entire kingdom to save yourself.”
His words strike true, hitting the part of me I’ve repressed since leaving Avelisar. What’s worse is that I don’t feel a single ounce of regret for my actions. All of those lives were lost so I can be free… and I’m still chained.
I turn, taking long strides away from him as I surge down the hall. My anger boils over as I reach a breaking point. Wrath and I are like wildfire, ready to consume anything in our path, including each other. If we keep going much longer, one of us will burn the other to ash.
“Raelys!” Wrath’s voice calls out as he surges after me. It’s the closest I’ve heard him to yelling. His fingers wrap around my right wrist, stopping me in place.
Magic flares up my arm, the mark beneath my sleeve sending a tinge of heat throughout my body. I whirl quickly, ready to unleash my fury on him, when my gaze catches on something. With his arm outstretched to grab my hand, Wrath’s sleeve rides up, allowing me to see the inside of his right wrist.
On Wrath’s skin is a silver mark that matches mine.
I move in the blink of an eye, shoving up his sleeve before he can stop me. All the air leaves my lungs as I try to make sense of what this means. I trace my thumb over the skin, the magic jumping to life at my touch. It moves closer to greet me, the same way mine moves when Wrath touches me. A realization crashes over me.
I look up at him and feel his heavy breath brush my cheek. “What’s this?” I whisper. “Why do we have matching marks?”
“We’re bonded,” he says in a voice equally low.
I pull away. The tingling sensation immediately fades from the broken contact. Wrath’s eyes darken as he watches me, standing deadly still.
“I’m bound to protect you. You’re bound not to cross me.” He reminds me of our deal. “When you’re in extreme pain, I feel it,” Wrath reveals, sending a shockwave through me.
“You certainly didn’t mean to do that… did you?”
Wrath inhales a sharp breath. “When we made our deal, and we touched hands, the magic within you reached out and took root in me.”
Wrath made a mistake—a severe one. That’s why he doesn’t want me to return home to Cathros. He is trying to figure out the nature of the bond between us. It is why I feel the magic call out to him. His power flows through me, and mine in him—a bond neither of us can break.
“You probably can’t think of a worse fate than being tied to me,” I say softly, feeling pensive.
I remain suspended in the intensity of his gaze as I wait for his response—two twilight skies of gray, the dawn to my every day and the dusk to my every night. The two of us are a cycle of ruin, a curse with no end. He is the culmination of everything I am not: composed, distinguished, and controlled. Yet he is the source of my every undoing, and the sum of every ache my soul carries.
“You have invaded my kingdom, my thoughts, and my sanity. I have fought many wars, but the one you wage seeks to destroy everything I have worked for.” He steps closer, closing the space between us. “You are the bane of my existence. And no matter how fiercely I try to resist, you are everything I desire.”
My breath catches in my throat. Every nerve in my body becomes attuned to this moment, to Wrath, as he waits for my response. The world around us slowly melts away, and the magic in the castle walls holds its breath alongside me.
“If I am the bane of your existence, then you are theplagueof my peace,” I counter, losing all sense of logical thought. “Because when our skin touches… I burn for you. I know it’s the magic that makes me feel this way, but sometimes it’s not?—”
“I can do this no longer.” Wrath’s lips crash into mine.
He takes my face between his palms and kisses me like I'm the air keeping him alive. The kiss is commanding and wild, tempered only by the faintest trace of tenderness. The world narrows to this—his hands, his mouth, the breaking of every wall between us.
I reach up, wrapping a hand around the nape of his neck as I thread my fingers through his hair. Wrath’s arm circles my waist as he pulls me through a doorway. Slamming the door behind him, he pins me to it with his hips. Our lips meet once more as he grips my body tightly. Wrath’s jaw is smooth against my palm as I cling to him, desperately craving more.
“Wrath…” I whisper his name, trying to get his attention. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Then stop me.” His mouth finds the pulse jumping at my throat.
I tilt my head back and release a soft moan of pleasure. “Wrath,” I repeat his name in a poor attempt to stop this revelry. Secretly, I don’t want him to stop—I want toindulge.
“Casimir,” he murmurs against my neck, breath fanning across my skin.
“What?” I ask in a haze of lust.
“My namesake.”
