Hades
Her eyes weren't just curious; they were ravenous, clinging to that sealed envelope like it held the answers to every unspoken question gnawing at her mind. A thousand thoughts must have been clawing at her, each more desperate than the last.
I noticed the slight twitch in her hand, a subconscious inch forward. She wanted to see it. No, she needed to.
Kael noticed too. His grip on the envelope tightened, his jaw ticking with quiet warning.
"Leave us," I said, my tone brooking no argunt.
Jules flinched, but this ti, she didn't protest. The last shred of stubbornness drained from her as she lowered her head. Her movents were slow, chanical, as if dragging herself through molasses. She hesitated at the threshold, her shoulders rising with a sharp breath—like she might say sothing, plead once more.
But then she didn't.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Silence blood in her absence, thick and suffocating.
"Kael," I said evenly, my eyes never leaving the envelope, "give it here."
He crossed the room and placed it delicately in my hand, as if it might shatter. The weight of it was heavier than re paper should allow.
I ran a thumb along the seal, pausing for half a second before breaking it.
The crisp tear echoed in the quiet room.
Unfolding the docunt, my eyes flicked over the clinical language, scanning for the information that mattered.
And then I saw it.
My grip tightened involuntarily, the paper crinkling slightly under my fingers.
Goddess...
Suddenly, my feet turned liquid, the world tilting beneath . Yet, every nerve lit up with exhilaration.
"Your Majesty?" Kael's voice was wary.
I read it again, slower this ti, as though the words might rearrange themselves into sothing that made sense.
But they didn't.
Lunar Synchronization Index Report
Subject 1: Hades Stravos (Lycan, Obsidian Pack)
Subject 2: Ellen Valmont (Werewolf, Silverpine)
Test Type: Mate Compatibility Analysis
Status: 100% Compatible
---
Findings:
— Subject 1 possesses the Vassir's Vein (Flux Corruption), a rare and unstable anomaly derived from the Vampiric Essence of the Vampire Prince, Vassir.
— Subject 2 carries the Fenrir's Marker, an ancient and volatile werewolf trait signifying direct descent from the Progenitor Bloodline.
— Cross-analysis indicates full-spectrum compatibility between Vassir's Vein and Fenrir's Marker, despite traditionally incompatible species lineage.
— Anomalous bond detected: The synchronization between both subjects transcends standard mating paraters.
— *Absolute Compatibility overrides all genetic, species, and taphysical barriers. This level of synchronization is classified as Unprecedented.
— Projected Bond Strength: Immutable and irreversible.
— Warning: The fusion of Vassir's Vein and Fenrir's Marker may trigger unknown and potentially catastrophic consequences under lunar or emotional duress.
I stared at the words, feeling the ground beneath give way.
Impossible.
The Vassir's Vein—my curse, my strength, my affliction—was never ant to coexist with anything. It was volatile, a raw tear in my very nature, sothing even my father feared enough to never take it himself despite the power that ca with its infection.
And yet here it was.
Bound, balanced, matched perfectly with the Fenrir's Marker.
The two greatest anomalies that have ever been discovered, fitting together like forged steel and sharpened stone.
No force of blood, lineage, or nature should have allowed it.
But the report was clear.
This bond didn't care for species. Didn't care for rules.
It was.
Kael's voice cut into the cold storm inside . "Your Majesty… what does it say?"
I could barely form the words, my mind coiled tight.
"It says," I began slowly, folding the paper with deliberate care, "Ellen and I are mates."
Kael's breath hitched, barely audible, but I heard it.
Shock flickered in his eyes before he quickly masked it behind a soldier's composure. Yet, I could see the calculation racing behind his gaze.
The Obsidian Pack would not take this news lightly.
Neither would Silverpine.
And the world… the world would burn before it understood what this ant.
A werewolf and a Lycan were mates?
It was an abomination written in ink, yet I knew that it was everything that I craved. It was almost too perfect. The goddess listened indeee to the prayers of villain.
It was the final piece of the puzzle. I would awaken her wolf and the Fenrir's marker in her blood would develop to its full potential.
"So it is set," Kael murmured but he had a strange look in his eyes. The one that told he had sothing to say.
"What is it?"
He raised his brow trying to feign obliviousness. "What do you an?"
"Really?" I asked unimpressed.
Finally, he let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair. Finally letting his surprise show. "I never thought it was possible but now that know for fact...that she is your mate, it makes more sense."
He was beating around the bush. And he noticed the question in my gaze so he continued.
"I thought... thought that you had fallen in love with her."
I blinked.
Then I laughed.
A sharp, humorless sound that tore through the suffocating stillness.
"Love?" I spat the word like it burned my tongue.
Kael didn't flinch, but his eyes sharpened, watching closely.
The idea was so absurd, so grotesque, it made my stomach twist.
I was not so lovesick fool, stumbling into affection. Love was weakness. A leash. A vulnerability I couldn't afford.
But—
Her eyes.
Turquoise. Clear, cold, and burning all at once.
They flashed in my mind without warning, and sothing in my chest constricted.
The curve of her mouth when she sneered at , the sharpness of her words, each one ant to cut, to wound.
And then—
A flicker of sothing darker.
The mory of her voice, ragged and breathless, the sound of her moans—unbidden, invasive—seeped into my mind like poison.
Heat coiled low and sharp in my gut.
My pulse stuttered.
A violent shudder tore through before I forced my muscles to still. My grip on the paper tightened, the edges biting into my skin.
No.
No.
This was the bond. The unnatural force twisting its claws into . It was playing tricks. Distorting need into sothing more.
Misleading. Manipulative.
"I don't love her," I snarled, voice low and venomous.
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