InkHeartAria.
The world snaps back into focus with the force of a physical blow. Milla is shaking my arm, her face a mask of concern.
“Aria? Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
I can’t answer her. My eyes are still locked on Ronin. He’s moving now, striding through the crowd with a terrifying purpose. People scramble out of his way, their festive moods evaporating in the face of his cold fury.
He isn’t looking at anyone else. His gaze is a physical weight, pinning me in place. Every step he takes is a drumbeat signaling my doom.
“We should go,” Milla says, her voice tight with panic. She tries to pull me back, toward the shadows at the edge of the clearing.
But I can’t move. My feet are rooted to the damp earth. The bond, this new, horrifying thing, hums between us. It pulls me toward him even as every instinct for self-preservation screams at me to run.
He reaches me in seconds. His hand clamps around my upper arm, his fingers digging into my flesh like talons. The grip is bruising, possessive.
“Ronin, what are you doing?” Camille’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and laced with indignation. She has followed him, her perfect face marred by a confused frown.
He doesn’t even glance at her. He just starts walking, dragging me with him. I stumble, my feet struggling to find purchase on the uneven ground.
“Let me go,” I gasp, the words barely a whisper.
His only response is to tighten his grip. We plunge past the ring of firelight and into the oppressive darkness of the woods. The music and laughter fade behind us, replaced by the sound of snapping twigs under his boots and my own ragged breathing.
The trees close in around us, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching for me. He pulls me deeper and deeper into the forest, away from any possibility of being seen or heard.
Finally, he stops. He shoves me backward, hard. My back slams against the rough bark of a massive oak tree, knocking the wind out of me.
He stands before me, a shadow against the gloom, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The scent of pine and his own personal fury is suffocating.
“What did you do?” he snarls. The voice is low, a guttural sound that belongs more to a wolf than a man.
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, my voice trembling.
He takes a step closer, crowding me against the tree. He plants his hands on the trunk on either side of my head, caging me in.
“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses, his face inches from mine. “I felt it. That… thing. That connection. Did you use a spell? Some kind of backwoods blood magic to try and trap me?”
I shake my head frantically. “No! I don’t know anything about that. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A harsh, disbelieving laugh escapes him. “You really are stupid, aren’t you? The mate bond. Fate. The Moon Goddess’s grand fucking plan.”
His voice drips with sarcasm and disgust. “She must be senile. Pairing me, the heir to the throne, with a pathetic, low-tier runt who smells of desperation.”
Each word is a carefully aimed blow. I flinch, trying to press myself into the unyielding bark of the tree, wishing it would swallow me whole.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes.
“Neither did I!” he roars, his fist slamming into the tree next to my head. The wood groans in protest. I cry out, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he continues, his voice dropping back to a menacing whisper. “You have ruined everything. My future. My bloodline. All tainted by your weakness.”
He pulls back slightly, pacing in the small space in front of me like a caged predator. “I will not accept it. I will not accept you.”
“Then reject me,” I plead, my voice cracking. “Just do it. Sever the bond.”
He stops pacing and looks at me, a cruel, mocking smile twisting his lips. “Oh, I will. Believe me, I will reject every part of this that matters. Your pathetic emotions, your little hopes and dreams. They mean nothing to me.”
He steps close again, his gaze dropping to my lips, then my neck. A low growl rumbles in his chest.
“But the physical pull… that’s another matter entirely. My wolf recognizes you, even if I don’t. It’s an itch that needs to be scratched.”
My blood runs cold. I understand what he’s saying. What he’s implying.
“No,” I breathe.
“No?” he echoes, one eyebrow arching. “You don’t get a say in this. Fate dealt this hand, not me. But I will be the one to decide how the game is played.”
He leans in, his warm breath ghosting across my ear. “So let’s be clear on the new rules. You are not my partner. You are not my equal. You will never be my Queen.”
He pulls back, his eyes boring into mine. “You are a biological imperative. A vessel for my needs when I require it. A body to be used to silence the demands of this bond until I find a way to break it permanently.”
He sees the horror and defiance in my eyes. He sees me preparing to fight, to scream, to say anything to deny his cruel decree.
A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. It’s the smile of a predator that has its prey cornered with nowhere to run.
His Alpha power washes over me, a tangible force that presses down on my mind and my will. It’s a crushing weight, demanding submission, ordering my very bones to yield to his dominance. The instinct to obey is a sickness in my blood, a betrayal by my own biology.
He watches me struggle against it, my body trembling with the effort. He seems to enjoy the sight.
“If you are to be mine in any capacity,” he says, his voice now calm and utterly commanding, “you must first understand your place.”
His eyes, now glowing with a faint, ethereal light, hold me captive. He slowly raises a hand and points to the damp, leaf-strewn dirt at my feet.
“Get on your knees.”