The darkness beyond the threshold of the hall swallowed Damian so swiftly it was as if he had never been there. It left behind only a ringing in my ears and that sticky, maddening scent of ozone. I froze. Icy air from the open doors lashed across my face, but I didn't feel it.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. "Your blood... it's different"—the echo of his words still vibrated in my skull.
A breath. Heavy, saturated with soot and sour wine.
In the center of my chest, where the mark usually throbbed, something alien stirred. It wasn't the pain of the bond with Cale. It wasn't compulsion. It was heat. As if I had swallowed molten silver, and now it was spreading through my veins, searing away everything human.
My fingers cramped. I looked down at my hands: my nails had lengthened, becoming hard and predatory.
The world around me exploded into detail. I could see every crack in the marble floor; I could hear a drop of blood sliding down someone's blade thirty meters away. The shadows in the corners ceased to be a mere absence of light—they became tangible matter.
A silhouette appeared at the entrance. Heavy boots on stone. The scrape of metal.
Cale.
His sword, smeared with a dark, almost black sludge, lowered toward the floor. He was breathing heavily, like a beast after a long hunt. Our eyes met, and I felt it through my skin as the wolf inside him bristled.
"He won't get far," Cale said, thrusting his blade into its scabbard. "Why are you still standing there?"
"He's gone," my voice sounded strange, with a metallic tang to it.
"I see that."
He took a step. Then another. His nostrils flared. He caught the scent.
"What is wrong with your scent?" Cale froze, crouching low as if before a pounce. "Alina, look at me."
I straightened. It felt as if an electric discharge had been shot through my spine. A growl—low, vibrating—was born deep in my throat and got stuck there like a lump.
"Don't come closer."
"Are you giving me orders? In my own castle?"
"Just... stay there."
The heat in my chest flared a blinding white. I saw his pupils dilate as my eyes filled with an unnatural silver glow.
Cale closed the distance between us in a fraction of a second. The scent of smoke, tempered steel, and rage crashed over me, stealing my oxygen. His palm closed around my wrist. His grip was a steel vise.
"Let go," I lunged back, and sparks of power flew from my fingers, searing his skin.
Cale snarled but didn't let go. Instead, he seized my other hand, pinning both wrists behind my back. His face was an inch from mine.
"What is this filth? What did he do to you?"
"He didn't... ah!"
The bond between us, usually a dormant, heavy weight, suddenly jolted to life. It turned into a white-hot chain, stretched to its limit. Cale wasn't just angry—he was using the bond as a whip. An impulse of pure, primal submission slammed into my brain.
"Stand still," he breathed against my lips.
The mark on my neck exploded with pain. I screamed, throwing my head back. My new, silver energy collided with his will, and a slaughter began inside me. It felt as if my muscles were about to tear from my bones.
"Stop it!" I wheezed, trying to push him away with my forehead. "You're killing me!"
"I am subduing my property. What is that light in your eyes? Where did this foreign power come from?"
"It's not foreign... it's mine..."
"You have nothing of your own, Alina. Only what I have allowed you to keep."
He increased the mental pressure. The silver haze before my eyes began to fade, trampled by his heavy, domineering presence. My power whimpered, retreating into the darkest corners of my consciousness under the blows of his will.
My knees buckled. The floor tilted toward me, but Cale wouldn't let me fall—he kept holding my twisted arms, forcing me to stand.
"Look at me," his voice vibrated with tension.
"I... can't..." I was suffocating.
The heat was receding, leaving behind an icy void and a weakness so profound that even my eyelids felt too heavy to lift. Tremors racked my entire body.
Cale loosened his grip, but only to dig his fingers into my chin, jerking my face upward. His eyes burned with amber fire; there was no sympathy in them. Only cold calculation and a thirst for possession.
"You're trembling all over," he said, dragging his thumb across my lower lip, smearing the blood from an accidental bite.
"What's happening to me?" my whisper broke into a rasp. "Cale... what was that?"
I searched his face for answers, but saw only the reflection of my own fear. My fingers were no longer claws. My vision had become dim and ordinary again.
"It is your curse," he leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to my ear. "And my gift."
"What do you mean? Damian said—"
"Forget that name. If it ever crosses your lips again, I will tear out your tongue."
He took a deep breath of the scent at my temple, his fingers tightening into a fist at the back of my head, winding my hair around them.
"Cale, you're hurting me."
"Get used to it. Everything will be different now."
"Why won't you answer me?" I tried to pull away, but he only pulled me tighter against his armored chest. "What woke up inside me?"
He was silent for a long time. So long that I could hear the wind beginning to howl outside the windows, portending a storm. His silence weighed heavier than the chains of the bond.
"Cale?"
"You don't need to know 'what,'" he finally said, his voice sounding like a sentence. "You only need to know 'whose.'"
He pulled back just enough so I could see his eyes—bottomless wells of darkness.
"You are mine, Alina. To the last drop of this strange blood. To your last breath."
I wanted to object, to scream that I wasn't an object, but my voice was gone. The icy cold of defeat finally seized my lungs. I simply watched as he turned around, dragging me behind him out of the hall and into the depths of the castle, where the shadows were even thicker.