*Jiselle*
“Give me the blade.”
- 86.
65 vouchers
The words cut through the air like iron, sharp and unyielding. Nate stood across the table, his jaw set, his eyes dark, and his hand outstretched. The chamber was lit only by candlelight, flames flickering against walls still cracked from the last rupture. The relic pulsed faintly in the corner, its fissure glowing like a wound that wouldn’t close, but all of my attention was fixed on him.
I hesitated. “Why?”
“Because if prophecy wants to bind us,” he said, voice low but steady, “then I’ll carve something stronger. Something it can’t take from me.”
The knife gleamed where it lay between us, its edge catching the glow of violet flame that always seemed to linger now. My stomach tightened. “Nate…”
He moved before I could finish, snatching the blade up with a sure hand. His palm rested flat against the wood of the table as he rolled his sleeve past his elbow, revealing skin scarred from battles and burns, the faint remnants of runes I’d seen him channel before. His veins stood out against the pale stretch of his arm, alive with heat.
“Nate, don’t-”
“This isn’t about prophecy,” he said, cutting me off with a fierceness that shook me. “Not anymore. This is me. My choice.”
‘His wolf stirred beneath his words, wild and furious, but not at me. At everything else that had tried to claim
- us.
I took a step closer. “If you do this-”
“I’m not asking permission.”
The knife pressed against his skin. The sharp scent of iron filled the air as the first line split open. Not jagged. Not desperate. Deliberate. He carved slowly, with precision, dragging the edge across his arm in patterns I half–recognized, half–feared. Every stroke of the blade was mirrored by the rise of flame behind him, like the world itself was responding to his defiance.
“Nate-” My voice broke. “Stop. You don’t have to prove-”
“I’m not proving anything.” He gritted his teeth as blood welled, bright and hot, dripping down his forearm and onto the table. His eyes flicked up to mine, fierce even through the pain. “I’m binding myself to you. Not to fate. Not to the Gate. To you, Jiselle. Only you.”
My knees almost buckled. “You’ll scar.”
“Good,” he growled, dragging the blade again. “Then I’ll carry you in my skin.”
16:14 Mon, Sep 29
Chapter 228
86
55 Vouchers.
The lines began to form a pattern, not one of the old runes, but something rawer. Messier. Beautiful in its imperfection. A vow written in blood and fire.
My throat ached. I wanted to reach for him, to stop him, but my hands refused to move. Because gods help me, I wanted it too.
When the last stroke was finished, he let the blade fall. It clattered against stone, slick with blood. His breathing was ragged, but he didn’t waver. He held his arm out toward me, the mark bright with fresh pain, the lines glowing faintly as if the flame itself had answered.
“Your turn,” he said.
I shook my head, tears blurring my vision. “Nate, I can’t-”
“You can.” He stepped closer, blood dripping onto the floor, his hand shaking but not from fear. “If you want me beside you, if you want me more than the prophecy does, then carve me into you. Not because you have to. Because you choose to.”
I stared at him, at the blood, at the heat shimmering off his skin. Every instinct screamed at me to stop. But every heartbeat told me the truth: I didn’t want to.
My hand closed around the blade. It was warm from his grip, heavy, almost alive.
He lifted my wrist, his blood–stained fingers guiding me. “Here,” he whispered, pressing my hand against the inside of my arm. “The same place. The same mark. So the world knows we’re not split. We’re one.”
The knife trembled as I lowered it.
“Jiselle,” he said, softer now. “I’m not afraid of you. Not of the flame. Not of the child. I’m only afraid of leaving this world without making sure you know that you’re mine.”
The first cut broke the skin. I hissed, the burn searing through me, and his hand closed over mine, steadying
- me.
“Together,” he murmured.
So I cut again. And again.
Not jagged. Not wild. Slow. Careful. Each line crossing into the next, matching his. His blood mingled with mine on the table, dripping into the cracks of the wood. The mark grew, glowing faintly with violet light as though the leyline itself was leaning in, watching.
When it was finished, my hands shook so badly I almost dropped the blade. He caught it, set it aside, then lifted my arm gently, pressing his bloodied mark to mine.
The moment our wounds touched, the flame inside me surged. Not violently. Not like the Gate. Warm. Binding. My veins lit with fire, but it didn’t burn–it steadied.
His eyes locked on mine. “Now nothing can take you from me. Not prophecy. Not power. Not even death.”
Tears blurred my sight, but I didn’t look away. “You idiot,” I whispered, and then I kissed him.
16:14 Mon, Sep 29
Chapter 228
气
It wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t desperate. It was a vow. His blood still wet against my skin, mine still staining his, our marks pressed together as the flame between us anchored itself deeper than it ever had before.
When we finally pulled apart, my forehead rested against his. Our breaths tangled, our chests rose and fell in sync. The silence was thick, but it wasn’t empty. It was full.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said softly, his lips brushing mine again. “And now the world knows too.”
The candles sputtered, their flames bowing inward. The relic pulsed once more, louder this time, like a drumbeat echoing through the stone. The ground shifted under us, faint but undeniable.
We froze.
The leyline.
Nate turned, his body instinctively shielding mine even as my arm still burned with our shared mark.
From the corridor, footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Too heavy to be friend. Too quiet to be army.
Ethan burst through the door, his chest heaving, his face pale with terror. His shirt clung to him with sweat, and his mark glowed brighter than I’d ever seen.
“What happened?” Nate demanded.
Ethan swallowed hard, his eyes wide. “The Hollow… they’re moving. I saw them in the flame. They’re marching straight for us.”
And then–his voice cracked. “And Aedric… he called my name.”
The room went cold.
And our blood–bound marks burned hotter.
AD
Comment
Send gift
No Ads
16:14 Mon, Sep 29
Chapter 229
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
