The keep was quieter that night. Too quiet.

Aria sat near the fire in Damian’s chamber, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders. The day had left her raw—the stares of the council, the weight of her mother’s name turned into a curse, Damian’s protective fury that had felt like both shield and chain.

She should sleep, but her body hummed with restless energy. The mark burned steadily, not in pain, but like an ember buried under her skin. A reminder. A calling.

The door opened.

Damian entered, his steps heavy, his shirt unlaced at the throat, dark hair damp from another run. He looked carved from shadows and firelight, every line of him sharp, powerful.

Her breath caught before she could stop it.

He noticed. Of course he noticed. His eyes flicked to her, golden and unreadable, before he moved to the table and poured himself water. He drank in silence, but the tension stretched between them like a drawn bow.

“You were harsh with them,” Aria said finally, her voice soft.

“They deserved harsher.” His tone was flat, but his jaw ticked.

“They fear me,” she whispered.

“They fear what you could become.”

She hugged the cloak tighter. “And what if they’re right? What if I am cursed?”

At that, he turned sharply, golden eyes burning. “Don’t ever say that.”

She blinked, startled.

“You are not the curse,” he said, voice rough, fierce. “The curse is what hunts you. What tries to twist fate into chains. But you—” His throat worked. “You’re…”

He stopped himself, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Say it,” Aria pressed, her heart racing.

His eyes locked on hers, raw, unguarded. “You’re the only thing keeping me from becoming the monster they already think I am.”

The words punched the air from her lungs. She rose without thinking, her bare feet silent on the stone. “Damian…”

He shook his head, stepping back as if her nearness burned. “Don’t.”

But she kept coming. “You save me, you shield me, you fight the bond, but you feel it too. Don’t tell me you don’t.”

The silence crackled. His chest heaved, his fists clenched.

Then he closed the distance in two strides, his hand cupping her jaw, tilting her face up. His breath mingled with hers, ragged, hot.

“I feel it,” he ground out. “Gods help me, I feel nothing else.”

Aria’s pulse thundered. Her lips parted, the world narrowing to the heat of his body, the fire of his gaze. The bond blazed between them, screaming for more, for touch, for surrender.

His thumb brushed her cheek. Her hands rose, trembling, to his chest, feeling the strength beneath, the rapid beat of his heart.

The space between them vanished. His forehead pressed to hers, their lips a breath apart. She could feel him shake with restraint, with hunger.

“Damian…” she whispered.

His name broke him.

He tilted her face up, golden eyes dark with want, and for one impossible moment she thought he’d claim her mouth, claim her. The fire roared higher, consuming them both—

A knock shattered it.

They froze, breaths harsh, bodies taut.

Rylan’s voice came muffled through the door. “Alpha. We have news.”

Damian swore under his breath, low and vicious. He pulled back, tearing himself away, though his hand lingered on her jaw for one stolen heartbeat longer before it dropped.

Aria stood trembling, her lips tingling from a kiss that had almost been, her chest hollow with loss.

Damian raked a hand through his hair, golden eyes storming. “This bond will destroy us.”

Her voice cracked. “Then let it.”

The words hung between them like fire, dangerous and unstoppable.

Another knock. Louder. Urgent.

Damian turned, shoulders rigid, mask sliding back into place. “Stay here,” he ordered, voice hoarse. Then he was gone, leaving her with the fire, the silence, and the ache of what might have been.