A Fate Forged in Poison and Magic
Part 1
The floorboards remain silent as I slip through the shadows of the alpha’s bedroom, my movements like smoke after six years of grueling training.
Tonight, all that practice will finally pay off.
My fingers tighten around the hilt of my blade, its surface gleaming with the deadly poison I had carefully applied hours earlier.
One cut is all it will take to deal with the most dangerous shifter in the territory.
The moonlight streaming through the tall windows casts everything in silver.
The massive four-poster bed looks like an altar in the center of the room.
Sprawled across the dark sheets is my target.
His face is slack in sleep, looking so deceptively human that I have to force a frown to remind myself what these savage beasts truly are.
Forcing away my doubts, my mind drifts to my parents.
The crackling flames from that house fire still haunt my memories.
Shivering in the ashes, a coven of witches found me broken and alone.
Sister Heather explained the truth to me that night.
It had not been an accident.
Shifters had killed my family just like they had killed so many others.
This strike is for them.
Stepping silently, I carry myself closer to the bed.
My magic hums beneath my skin like a second heartbeat.
The alpha looks surprisingly young.
Gripping the hilt tighter, I raise the blade high above his chest.
The poison will work fast before he can call for help.
Plunging the dagger, I put all my strength into the downward strike.
His eyes snap open, revealing a startlingly blue color.
His hand shoots up with inhuman speed.
His fingers wrap around my wrist like steel bands.
“I don’t think so,” he says quietly, his voice deep and rough with sleep.
Thrashing against his hold, I fuel my twisting limbs with desperation.
He is far stronger than he looks.
The heat of his skin burns against mine.
The blade tumbles from my fingers and clatters to the floor.
He rolls us both over in a lightning-fast motion.
He pins me beneath him on the massive bed.
I am trapped beneath solid muscle.
His thighs bracket mine firmly.
“Let me go,” I spit, bucking against his weight.
“Get off me, you animal!”
His eyes shift to a glowing gold.
His pupils dilate as he stares down at me.
To my absolute horror, his nose skims along my throat.
He inhales deeply against my skin.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I demand to know.
“You smell like wild flowers,” he murmurs reverently.
“I smell like your death,” I shoot back.
The bedroom door bursts open, flooding the room with large, intimidating people.
A woman named Brenda rushes forward.
“Are you all right?” she asks the alpha.
“I am fine, Brenda,” he replies calmly.
He keeps me firmly pinned to the mattress.
“We just had an unexpected visitor.”
A scarred guard named Dan glares at my dropped blade.
“She was trying to attack you,” Dan growls.
“Trying being the operative word,” the alpha says with amusement.
“Her technique needs work.”
“My technique is perfect,” I snarl, renewing my struggles.
“I am going to end you.”
The alpha lifts his weight off me but keeps his grip on my wrist.
“Brenda, escort our guest to the holding cells,” he orders.
Brenda hauls me to my feet with surprising strength.
As they drag me to the door, I twist back to look at the alpha.
He sits on the edge of his bed, completely unruffled.
He watches me with those unsettling blue eyes.
He is still smiling.
“This is not over,” I shout down the hallway.
His low chuckle follows me, making my traitorous heart race.
Two days pass inside a cold stone cell.
The heavy door is reinforced with iron.
My wrists ache from the magic-suppressing silver cuffs.
Marching back and forth, I feel like a caged animal in the small space.
The alpha finally visits me.
He steps into view, and my breath catches despite my anger.
“What is your name?” he asks patiently.
“Go screw yourself,” I snap.
His mouth curves into an infuriating smirk.
“I intend to keep you here forever,” he says quietly.
Blinking rapidly, I stare at him in sheer disbelief.
“The second you let your guard down, I will come for you again,” I warn.
He straightens from the wall and steps closer to the bars.
“If I intend to keep you forever, it is because you are my mate,” he says.
I blink, certain I misheard him.
“Excuse me?”
I whisper the words.
“Fate says otherwise,” he replies gently.
He tells me about destined mates and sacred bonds.
He looks at me like I am something precious.
“Do you really feel nothing when you look at me?” he asks.
My body shakes with repressed terror and rage.
“I feel complete and utter horror,” I spit.
He nods slowly as if expecting that exact response.
“I hope to change that,” he says softly.
He visits me every single evening after that.
He brings books and reads to me.
He tries to make conversation.
Squinting at his offering, I silently dissect his twisted strategy to break me.
He wants me to fall for his fake mate bond fairy tale.
He hopes I will become emotionally compromised and reveal my coven’s location.
Calculating my next move, I shift my plan to play his own game against him.
Faking a soft smile, I will soon make him believe his manipulation is working.
Leaning closer to the bars, I soften my voice to ask him questions about his books.
I bat my eyelashes and pretend to enjoy his company.
When I fake a stumble to steal his keys, he catches me effortlessly, his large hands burning through my shirt.
Instead of swiping the iron ring from his belt, my traitorous breath hitches as his golden eyes lock onto mine.
He simply steadies me, perfectly stoic, while my heart hammers a frantic, humiliating rhythm.
Weeks pass, and the entire house starts preparing for a massive party.
I find out it is his birthday.
He refuses to invite me because he knows I will try to escape.
Storming across the bedroom floor, I let my frustration boil over while the party rages downstairs.
Suddenly, a strange unease settles over me.
My head throbs with an impending migraine.
A bizarre pressure builds in my chest.
Without thinking, my body drifts toward the door under an inexplicable pull toward the alpha.
Throwing the door open, I order the guards to take me to him.
They escort me to his private office.
He steps inside, looking pale and completely off-balance.
“You do not feel well,” I tell him.
He clenches his jaw, his knuckles turning white.
“It is because of the bond,” he mutters feverishly.
He admits that spending so much time near me has intensified his instincts.
He needs to claim me.
Scoffing loudly, I mask my refusal to believe his lies with a forced laugh.
“You are not claiming anything, buddy.”
He backs away from me with ragged breaths.
“I do not want to touch you,” he snarls.
“I do not want to be physically intimate with you when you obviously feel nothing for me.”
His vehement rejection sparks something reckless inside me.
Lunging forward, I crash my mouth against his lips.
Acting purely on instinct, I abandon reason completely.
He freezes for a heartbeat before tearing himself away.
“Stop being stupid,” I sigh, kissing him again.
A primal growl tears from his throat.
His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against his chest.
This kiss is raw and hungry.
Heat blooms everywhere we touch.
Crashing through my mental walls, his raw emotions flood my mind through the bond.
He feels a desperate relief, like a starving man finally given a feast.
Trembling uncontrollably, pure panic grips my chest as his feelings prove the mate bond is real.
He lifts me onto his desk, his hands sliding to my hips.
Just as the heat becomes unbearable, he abruptly pulls back.
His golden eyes look deeply troubled.
“Megan, there is something you should know,” he says.
“It is about your coven and Sister Heather.”
“They have been lying to you your entire life.”
