Page 118 of The Nymph King

The brothers shared the same eyes, short dark hair, and intense expressions, making their relation undeniable. But Kiran was leaner, quicker, and almost elegant in his menace, while Saevel could break the ancient throne beneath him if the chains gave him the room.

His head lifted the instant they entered, furious eyes locking onto them with an alertness that cut through any sign of weakness. Suspicion followed just as fast, his attention tracking each of them as he assessed the threat.

A roar filled the throne hall as Saevel strained against his restraints. He shoved forward, and the chains rattled, echoing off the walls.

Her sister stepped forward without pause, leaving the others behind as her path locked onto him, her movement driven by an instinct deeper than thought. Dim light caught on her as she moved, her features striking, her presence pulling focus as her illusion slipped under the strain, revealing her fully. The Crown of Life formed across her brow at that same moment, its shape distinct and unhidden, marking her in direct contrast to him. Esa and Lore drove forward in response, instinct pulling them, but both stopped short at the sight of Saevel and Meira. Imani remained where she was, watching it unfold, already knowing how this moment would break and remake everything between them.

Meira’s pace slowed as she neared him, the urgency that drove her forward morphing into something deeper while she took in his full form for the first time. When their eyes met, a palpable moment of recognition bloomed between them. Saevel stared back, his aggressive posture dissolving into confusion, then melting away as his eyes grew wide in surprise. The room faded into unimportance as Imani watched their bond fall into place.

Imani rubbed her chest, feeling her own heartmate bond aching deep within.

Saevel’s hands jerked against the chains, metal grinding as his wrists pulled forward before he forced them back, stopping mid-motion. His throat worked hard, his chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven breaths as she moved closer. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay put instead of trying to get to her.

Then Saevel gasped, and his chest expanded as though he’d taken an involuntary breath.

“Saevel,” Meira said, the word breaking from her as she stepped into him, her voice delicate but certain.

A guttural growl tore from his throat as he surged forward against the chains, links screaming as his wrists pulled tight, his body leaning down toward her, breath dragging in as he took her in, close enough to feel the heat of her, to catch her scent. He towered over her, even bound, massive where she was slight, his presence overwhelming against her smaller frame, yet every movement he made toward her held restraint he fought to maintain.

“You’re…” His voice dropped, rough and amazed at once. “You’re mine.”

Meira stepped forward, head held high.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice strained, disbelief cutting through it as his gaze moved over her face, searching, taking in every detail as if committing it to memory. He bent closer despite the chains' limits, his forehead nearly brushing hers, his breath unsteady.

Magic moved off him in uneven bursts, the force of it pressing outward as he flinched at her approach, something close to fear breaking through the dominance of his size.

Meira’s hand lifted, reaching for his face without hesitation, without regard for the chains, the throne, or the violent magic lashing out around him.

“Don’t. I might hurt you,” he rasped as he pulled against the restraints again. He seemed on the verge of shifting into his bear form, but a force held him back.

Meira didn’t stop. Her fingers trembled as they hovered for a fraction of a second before touching his stubbled cheek, firm and certain.

The instant they made contact, everything changed.

Redness ran up their necks the instant her skin met his, their wrists igniting as the bond carved into them, deep and immediate. Meira gasped and pulled in a sharp breath, her other hand clutching at him as the pain surged. “Saevel—help me⁠—”

He moved toward her at once, the chains snapping taut as he tried to close the distance, his voice breaking through the clanging.

Pain tore through both of them, raw and immediate, their bodies reacting in unison as the bond sealed itself into place. Meira held on, refusing to let go, pressing into him despite it, anchoring him there as much as she grounded herself, forcing him to stay with her rather than pull away.

Was heartmate magic more powerful than the spells Kiran placed around Saevel? She nearly smiled at his arrogance.

The brands burned into their wrists, and Imani’s mouth formed a thin line as she remembered the day her own had seared itself into her skin. The day at the shop all those years ago.

Saevel’s hand came up to her face as far as the chains allowed, rough palm pressing against her cheek, thumb brushing under her eye as she gasped despite the pain, and she answered by gripping his jaw, holding him there as if anchoring them both. Their foreheads met, breath breaking between them, their bodies still reacting to the bond as it burned them, and he stayed close, refusing to pull back even when it hurt to feel it in her.

“I’ve got you,” Saevel murmured against her, voice low and strained. “Stay with me. Breathe, beautiful—just breathe.”

The bear shifter pressed closer, his forehead firm against Meira’s brow, his breath uneven as the pain moved through him with hers. “You’re all right. I’m with you, my love. It’ll pass.”

He kissed her then, soft and careful, his mouth brushing hers in a way that held back everything he could not give, and Meira leaned into it, a broken sound leaving her as she pressed closer.

“Don’t pull away,” he rasped. “Stay right here with me. I’m not letting you go, my sweet girl,” Saevel murmured against her, his voice rough with feeling as his thumb moved over her skin, slow and gentle. “You’re too beautiful. Your skin—” His breath hitched. “It’s soft. And your eyes…” He shook his head once, almost in disbelief. “I’ve seen nothing like you. Not your face. Not you.”

“The brand… It’s here.” Meira exhaled, lifting her wrist to examine the marking. “You’re mine,” she whispered.

“I am,” he said without looking at his own wrist. “And I always will be.”