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The zipper caught on my skin as I dragged the wedding dress over my bruised ribs.
“Hold still,” I muttered. “Like I’ve got a choice.”
The white silk cost more than my apartment. Kane’s people had delivered it an hour ago with one note in his handwriting:
*Wear this. Smile. Don’t drink anything I don’t hand you myself.*
My phone buzzed inside the hidden pocket sewn into the dress.
Nora.
*The Council sent a full delegation. Minerva Cole is here. Watch your back.*
I typed with one hand.
*Is Liam safe?*
Her reply came fast.
*Moved him an hour ago. He’s asking questions.*
*Tell him I’m working a double.*
*He’s sixteen. Not stupid.*
“Great,” I whispered. “Everybody’s lying to him except me.”
Someone knocked.
I shoved the phone into the pocket and opened the door.
Kane stood on the other side in a black suit that fit him like a threat. His hair was pushed back. The dark circles under his eyes were gone, which meant glamour. Two hours ago, he’d looked like death with a pulse.
The silver cuff around his wrist hid the curse mark. Barely. A faint blue glow leaked beneath the metal.
His gaze dragged over the dress, then stopped on my face.
“You clean up nice,” he said.
“Did you come to admire your hostage?”
His jaw tightened. “You’re not my hostage.”
“Then I can leave.”
“No.”
The answer landed hard. Clean. Final.
I folded my arms, and the silk pulled tight across my bruises. “That sounded pretty hostage-like.”
Kane stepped inside and shut the door behind him. The click of the lock seemed louder than it should’ve been.
“The binding’s already active,” he said. “The ceremony makes it official in front of witnesses. Once Minerva sees us married, you’re under Rook protection.”
“And if I don’t say the vows?”
“Then Minerva can take you.”
My mouth went dry. “Take me where?”
“Somewhere your brother can’t reach you.”
He didn’t say Liam’s name. He didn’t have to.
I moved closer until only a breath of space stayed between us. “Threatening my brother now?”
“I’m telling you what happens if you walk out.”
“You’re very good at making those sound the same.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second.
Then they came back to mine.
“You can hate me after tonight,” he said. “Right now, you need to stay alive.”
“I’m touched.”
“You’re not.”
“No. I’m furious.”
“Good. Stay furious. Fear makes people careless.”
He pulled a small vial from his jacket. Clear liquid shimmered inside.
“Drink this before we go down.”
I took it but didn’t uncork it. “What is it?”
“An antidote.”
“For?”
“Poison.”
My fingers stopped moving.
Kane watched me without blinking. “Someone’s going to poison you tonight.”
“You know that for sure?”
“I know Minerva.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.” He nodded at the vial. “Drink.”
I held it up between us. “You want me to swallow a mystery potion from the man forcing me into a fake marriage?”
“The marriage isn’t fake.”
“Funny. It feels fake.”
“The binding says otherwise.”
“What binding?”
His expression didn’t change, but the air between us tightened.
“Drink, Evelyn.”
He said my name softly. Too softly.
I hated that my pulse reacted before my brain did.
“Tell me what happens if I don’t.”
“Minerva tests the bond.”
“With poison?”
“With poison.”
“And if I die?”
Kane took one step closer. His body heat pressed through the thin silk between us. His hand lifted, stopped near my wrist, then curled into a fist at his side.
“If you die,” he said, “I lose control.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. It’s supposed to make you understand why she’ll be watching my face.”
I stared at him.
He leaned closer, his breath warm against my cheek. “If you die and I don’t react, she’ll know the marriage is a lie.”
“And if I survive?”
“Then she believes I’m bound to you.”
“You’re asking me to get poisoned so your performance looks convincing.”
“I’m asking you to survive four hours.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m efficient.”
I uncorked the vial. “If this kills me, I’m haunting you.”
“Get in line.”
I drank.
Burnt metal. Seawater. Heat spread through my ribs, and my throat locked for one awful second.
Kane caught my elbow.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“Not enough.”
His thumb pressed against my sleeve, right over my racing pulse. He looked down at his hand like he’d forgotten it was there.
I pulled away. “How long does the antidote last?”
“Four hours.”
“And after that?”
“Nothing goes into your mouth unless I clear it.”
His gaze sharpened. “Not champagne. Not water. Not candy. Nothing.”
“Does that include air?”
“If Minerva finds a way to poison air, I’ll tell you to stop breathing.”
“That’s reassuring.”
He checked his watch. “We need to go. The Council’s downstairs.”
I followed him into the hall, one hand gripping the skirt so I wouldn’t trip. The mansion swallowed sound. Dark wood. Old paintings. Too many dead Rooks staring down from the walls.
Kane slowed near the staircase.
“You’ve never lived here,” I said.
His eyes stayed on the people below. “No.”
“Because of the ghosts?”
“Because of the bodies.”
That shut me up.
Voices drifted from the living room. Polite laughter. Glass clinking. People pretending they weren’t waiting to watch Kane fail.
He offered his arm.
I looked at it. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
“Your favorite word.”
“Tonight, it is.”
I hooked my arm through his. His sleeve brushed mine. His hand settled over my fingers, warm and firm, covering the bruises I’d tried to hide.
“Smile,” he murmured.
“I’m smiling.”
“You look like you’re planning a murder.”
“I am.”
“Save it for after the vows.”
We started down the stairs.
Minerva Cole waited near the fireplace. Tall. Silver hair twisted into a severe bun. Gray suit. Gray eyes.
The woman who’d signed the execution order on Kane’s family six years ago.
Beside her stood a younger man with a scar running from his temple to his jaw. His stare followed Kane’s hand over mine.
Nora stood near the back, boxed in by two Council officials. She found my eyes and gave me one tiny nod.
Kane stopped in the center of the room.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said. “I know this is unexpected.”
Minerva smiled. “A Rook wedding. We thought your line was extinct.”
“Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.”
The room went quiet.
Kane’s fingers tightened around mine.
Minerva’s gaze slid to me. “And you’re Miss Hart.”
“Last time I checked.”
“A paramedic.”
“Also last time I checked.”
The scarred man gave a short laugh.
Minerva didn’t. “You understand what you’re marrying into?”
“I understand I’m marrying Kane.”
“You understand the Rook family was investigated for black-market curse trading and conspiracy against the Council?”
“I understand the Council’s version of events isn’t the only one.”
Minerva took one step closer. “Brave.”
“People keep saying that like it’s an insult.”
“It usually is.”
Kane moved between us before I could answer. “The officiant is waiting.”
Minerva’s smile sharpened. “Still protecting her?”
“Still wasting your time?”
The scarred man’s hand moved toward his jacket.
Kane noticed.
So did I.
For one sharp second, nobody breathed.
Then the officiant cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”
The ceremony took less than ten minutes.
The officiant read the Council-approved vows. Kane repeated every word without hesitation.
When it was my turn, my voice shook once.
Kane’s thumb brushed over my knuckles.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
“I am looking at you.”
“Then keep breathing.”
“I hate you.”
“Noted.”
The officiant raised his hands. “By the authority granted to me by the Gifted Council, I now pronounce you bound in marriage.”
A hush fell over the room.
“Groom,” the officiant said, “you may kiss the bride.”
Kane cupped my face.
His palm was warm. Careful. His eyes held mine for one charged beat, giving me time to pull away.
I didn’t.
He leaned in.
His lips brushed mine. Soft. Quick. Controlled enough to make it feel like a choice.
When he pulled back, his breath touched my cheek.
His eyes had gone dark.
I couldn’t tell if he wanted to kiss me again or if he was trying not to.
“Congratulations,” Minerva said.
She held up a champagne flute.
Servants moved through the room with silver trays. Crystal glasses. Pale gold liquid. Six of them on the nearest tray.
“To the happy couple,” Minerva said.
Everyone reached for a glass.
I did too.
Kane’s hand locked around my wrist.
He pulled me against his side, close enough that his shoulder pinned mine. His mouth brushed my ear.
“The first toast is poisoned,” he whispered.
My pulse slammed against his fingers.
I looked at the tray.
Six glasses. Same shape. Same color.
Minerva watched me over the rim of hers.
Kane took one glass and put it in my hand. Then he picked up another for himself.
His fingers brushed mine.
A sharp spark snapped through my palm.
He’d switched them.
“Smile,” he breathed.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Not even a little.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“So are you.”
Minerva lifted her glass. “To loyalty. And the bonds that bind us.”
Every person in the room drank.
I raised mine and took the smallest sip possible.
Nothing happened.
No burning. No choking. No sudden weakness.
Kane drained half his glass and set it down.
I stared at him. “You just drank poison.”
“I drank the safe one.”
“You switched them.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew which was which because—”
“Because I’m not guessing when your life is on the line.”
The words hit harder than they should’ve.
He glanced toward Minerva. “We’re stepping outside.”
Minerva smiled thinly. “Of course. Newlyweds.”
Kane’s hand settled at my back.
The touch was light, but it guided me through the room. His fingers stayed there even after we passed Minerva.
I looked over my shoulder.
She was watching his hand.
Not my face.
His hand.
Kane opened the terrace doors and pulled me outside.
The cold stone railing bit into my palms when I reached it.
“Did I drink the poisoned one?” I asked.
“No.”
“You swear?”
“I swear.”
“Then why are you still watching me like I’m about to collapse?”
“Because Minerva wanted to see if I’d protect you.”
“And now?”
“Now she knows the bond is real.”
“If you’d guessed wrong?”
“I didn’t.”
I turned on him. “You keep saying that like it makes everything fine.”
“It makes you alive.”
“You dragged me into a marriage, threatened my brother, fed me an antidote, and used me as bait in front of the woman who murdered your family.”
His expression hardened. “You forgot the part where I kept you from drinking poison.”
“I didn’t forget.”
“Then stop acting like I’m the only danger here.”
The words cut through the cold.
I stepped closer. “You are the danger I can see.”
Kane’s breath caught.
For once, he didn’t have an answer ready.
We stood too close. The warmth of him reached me through the silk. His eyes dropped to my mouth again, then lifted.
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“To stay alive.”
“And tomorrow?”
His gaze held mine.
“Tomorrow, you can decide whether you still hate me.”
Before I could answer, cold slid up my left arm.
I looked down.
Thin red lines appeared across my wrist.
Not scratches. Not ink.
Blood.
It moved beneath my skin, writing elegant, looping letters.
“Kane.”
He turned.
The color drained from his face.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Don’t touch it.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
The letters finished forming.
*Kane Rook.*
The blood wasn’t mine. It was too dark. Too cold.
Kane grabbed my hand. His palm was suddenly damp against mine.
“That’s not possible,” he said.
“What isn’t?”
His eyes stayed fixed on my wrist. “No one can claim me.”
Below his name, two more words appeared.
*He’s mine.*
The blood vanished.
My skin was clean.
But the cold stayed under it.
I looked toward the garden. “Did you feel that?”
“Someone’s watching.”
“Who?”
Kane yanked me toward the terrace doors. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“What was that?”
“A message.”
“From who?”
His grip tightened. “Someone just claimed me.”
“You said no one could.”
“They shouldn’t be able to.”
“Kane—”
“They used a dead man’s blood.”
I stumbled after him. “Dead?”
“The spell needs a sacrifice.”
My stomach twisted. “Someone died to send that?”
“Someone killed to send it.”
We crossed the living room.
Minerva’s eyes snapped to our joined hands.
“Leaving so soon?” she called.
Kane didn’t stop. “The bride’s tired.”
“I’m not—”
His arm hooked around my waist and pulled me against him.
“Keep walking,” he murmured near my ear.
His voice was calm for the room. His hand shook once against my side.
I felt it.
Minerva did too.
Her smile disappeared.
We reached the front door. Kane shoved it open, dragged me outside, and pushed me into the passenger seat of a waiting car.
“Kane, my seat belt—”
“Buckle it.”
He slammed my door, ran around the hood, and got behind the wheel.
The engine roared before I could click the belt into place.
The car tore away from the mansion.
I stared at my wrist.
Still clean.
But I could feel those words burning beneath my skin.
*He’s mine.*
Kane gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles went pale.
“Who was the dead man?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Kane.”
His eyes flicked to mine.
“If he’s mine,” he said, voice low, “then why did the message—