The scent of him hit harder than the stench of blood. It was warm, woodsy—pine, leather, and something ancient. Brea's wolf clawed beneath her skin. Her body stiffened, and her vision blurred for half a second as the weight of the bond locked into place.
Mate.
The cursed word rang through her bones like a bell tolling for her own funeral.
"No," she whispered again. "It's a trick. A game."
But even as her mind screamed denial, her heart betrayed her. It pounded with recognition. Her skin sparked with a heat she couldn't explain. And the mark on her left palm—the seal the God of Death had burned into her skin—began to ache.
He knows.
She could see it in his eyes. Alexei stopped moving. Soldiers halted behind him. Even the wind paused, holding its breath.
Then he spoke. A single word.
"Brea."
His voice was low, rough… intimate.
Tabitha moved to shield Brea's body with her own. "We need to leave. Now."
"No." Brea stepped forward.
Her warriors cried out in confusion as she walked straight toward the man she had sworn to kill. The man whose name haunted every battle cry and death chant in her tribe.
The God of Death was watching. She could feel his cold fingers brushing the edges of her soul. And yet, Brea moved, as if bound by invisible chains.
Or fate.
Alexei didn't flinch. His eyes scanned her face with the intensity of a predator who found something unexpected: not prey, but a mirror.
"You're not what I expected," he said, his voice quieter now. "You're... cursed."
Her jaw clenched. "And you're my enemy."
"Not anymore."
Brea blinked. "What?"
"You're my mate."
Her heart stuttered. She wanted to laugh, to spit, to scream. But the bond was undeniable. The magic that clung to her bones trembled with it.
And the worst part?
So did the magic from the God of Death.
A black mist curled around the edges of her vision. He was listening. Watching.
Waiting.
"You don't know what I've done," Brea whispered.
Alexei tilted his head. "Tell me."
She opened her mouth—but the words died. A sharp pain sliced through her chest, and she dropped to one knee.
"Brea!" Tabitha rushed forward, catching her just before she collapsed fully.
Alexei took a step forward. "What's wrong with her?"
Tabitha hissed. "Stay back!"
The wind howled. The skies darkened. Black fire licked the grass in a perfect circle around Brea's body.
The curse was reminding her: Power is never free.
When she woke, she was in her war tent, once again fevered, her skin covered in dark markings that pulsed and faded.
"Three times," Tabitha said softly beside her. "That's the third time the curse has flared."
Brea tried to sit up. "It's... reacting to him."
Tabitha gave a slow nod. "He's triggering something. The bond is stronger than it should be."
"Because of the God," Brea said, voice cracked. "He gave me power. But now, my mate has become part of the cost."
Tabitha hesitated. "Do you think he'll hurt you?"
"No," Brea said, surprisingly certain. "Alexei wouldn't hurt me."
"But would he destroy you?" Tabitha asked.
That, Brea could not answer.
Later that night, a messenger came.
A meeting. A ceasefire.
Not from his warriors. From Alexei himself.
Brea paced her tent, robes rustling against the floor. "What is he playing at?"
"Perhaps he wants peace?" Tabitha suggested.
Brea shook her head. "Or perhaps he wants to pull me close before driving a dagger into my back."
"Are you going?"
Brea didn't answer.
She was already lacing her boots.
---
They met on neutral ground—an abandoned temple at the edge of the valley, surrounded by mist and moonlight.
Alexei stood alone. No guards. No weapons. Just that calm, calculated stare.
"You came," he said.
"I had to."
They stood in silence for a beat.
Then she asked the question that burned in her gut. "Why me?"
He looked at her like she had asked why the sun rose. "Because you're mine."
Brea's pulse thundered. "You were my enemy."
"I was your test."
She narrowed her eyes. "And now?"
"Now I'm your curse."
They were too close. Her skin buzzed. Her wolf purred, then snarled. The Death Mark on her palm began to bleed black tears.
Alexei noticed. His brows drew together.
"What is that?"
"The reason I'll destroy you," she whispered.
But Alexei only stepped closer, his hand reaching for hers. "Or the reason you'll save me."
Their fingers touched.
The mark pulsed.
And the God of Death whispered:
> "Two hearts bound in blood. Only one may survive."