Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Emily hadn’t left her room in two days.

The tray of food Varis had brought still sat untouched by the door. Her robes from the fight lay crumpled in the corner, a smear of dried blood staining one sleeve. She hadn’t had the heart to wash them. She hadn’t had the energy to move.

It wasn’t just what happened in the hall. It was what it meant—what it said about her.

She had always believed she knew herself. Logical. Controlled. Driven. The kind of person who could hold a human heart in her hands and not flinch. But that woman—the one who had hurled another across a hallway and nearly killed her in a blind rage—that woman was a stranger.

And it terrified her how easy it had been to become her.

All it took was seeing Caelan kissed by someone else.

Emily sat on the edge of her bed, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight around them. The castle outside her walls moved on, but time inside her chambers stretched, soft and formless, like fog.

She closed her eyes.

She had felt his hands on her skin, his breath in her ear, his body against hers—and it had felt right. Like gravity. Like inevitability.

She was falling in love with him.

God, that’s what this was.

And it wasn’t slow or gentle or logical. It was wild. Consuming. It pulled something out of her that she didn’t even know existed—a possessiveness, a hunger, a fury that left her shaking.

She wanted to pull away. She should pull away.

But every time she thought about it, her chest ached. Her body missed him. Her mind betrayed her, conjuring the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t watching, the way he said her name made her melt on the inside.

This can’t be healthy, she thought, curling in tighter. This bond, this pull—whatever it is—it’s too much. It’s too fast. It’s dangerous.

But her heart didn’t listen.

And worse, some deep, stubborn part of her didn’t want it to.

It was nearing dinner when a knock echoed through her room.

“Emily,” Caelan’s voice came through the door. Calm, measured. “It’s time to eat. You haven’t eaten in days.”

She didn’t respond. She just sat there, curled on the edge of the bed, knees pulled up, biting at her thumbnail like the motion alone could keep her thoughts from unraveling. Maybe if she stayed quiet, he’d go away.

“Please open the door,” he said after a pause, softer this time. “Let me talk to you.”

Still, she said nothing. Didn’t move. The silence stretched.

Then—his voice again, sharper now. Frustrated. “Fine.”

She let out a breath, sagging slightly. Maybe that was it. Maybe he’d actually leave.

“You know what?” His voice cut back in, louder now. “No. We’re not playing this game.”

A crack of force shot through the room as the door flung open, slamming hard into the wall. Emily jumped, eyes flying to the doorway just as Caelan strode in, full of fire and purpose, and slammed the door shut behind him.

She froze.

He was furious—clearly—but it wasn’t the kind of fury she’d expected. His hair was a mess, his cloak hung loose over one shoulder, and his jaw was clenched tight. His magic still lingered in the air, humming low and angry. He looked wild, barely leashed.

And gods help her… he looked good.

That commanding tone. That furious restraint. The way he looked like he would tear the world apart just to get through to her—it did something to her. Twisted something low in her gut and made her want to drop to her knees and let him ruin her all over again.

The thought terrified her.

What the hell was wrong with her?

This couldn’t be healthy.

“I’ve given you space,” he said, voice rough. “I’ve waited. I’ve tried to let you come to me.”

Emily swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the bedspread. She wanted to speak, but her throat felt too tight.

“But that’s not going to work,” he went on, stepping forward. “Because I know you, Emily. I know you’re sitting in here going over that fight a thousand times. I know you think I’m furious, that I’m ashamed of you. That you lost control.”

His tone shifted—lower now, warmer, more honest.

“I’m not mad.”

She blinked.

Caelan stopped just a few feet away from her, his expression intense.

“In fact…” His gaze dropped to her mouth for half a breath. “You want to know what I felt when you threw her into a wall?”

Emily’s breath caught.

“Wanted,” he said simply. “Claimed.”

Her whole body flushed hot.

“I’ve had people fight for my name, my rank, my favor,” he said. “But you didn’t do it for any of that. You did it because she touched me. Because she looked at me like she still had a right to.”

He paused, his voice turning softer.

“And you were furious.”

Emily licked her lips. Her heart thudded so loudly it drowned out the silence.

“That’s not healthy,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“Maybe not,” Caelan said, tilting his head. “But it was honest.”

He took another step forward.

“I’m not going to pretend I didn’t like it.”

Emily stood abruptly, heart pounding, and crossed the room with quick, sharp steps. She planted herself near the far wall, needing the distance, needing the air. She turned to face him, arms folded tight across her chest.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” she said quietly. “People don’t… they don’t do that.”

Caelan didn’t move.

“I saw her kiss you and I didn’t even think. I didn’t hesitate. I just—” She looked up at him. “I lost it.”

Her voice trembled now, fragile and uncertain. “And I’ve been trying to tell myself it was the bond, or the stress, but it wasn’t. It was me.”

She started pacing, her steps slow, unsteady. Her fingers pulled at the sleeves of her robes.

“I’ve never felt rage like that. I’ve never wanted to hurt someone before—not like that. But I did. I wanted to. And when I hit her, when she went flying—”

She shook her head, disgusted with herself.

“I felt good. Powerful. Like something inside me had finally been let off the leash.”

She stopped and looked at him, eyes raw.

“That’s not who I am. At least… I don’t think it is. Or maybe it is and I’ve just never seen it until now. I don’t even know anymore.”

A long silence passed between them.

Then she said, quietly, “Since I got here, I’ve killed people. I’ve felt pain I didn’t know I could survive. I’ve attacked someone for kissing you. And the worst part isn’t what I did. It’s that it didn’t break me.”

Caelan took a slow step forward.

Emily backed away again.

“I don’t recognize myself anymore,” she whispered. “And I’m scared that I’m starting to like the person I’m becoming.”

Finally, Caelan spoke. His voice was calm, but deliberate.

“You think this place twisted you into something you’re not.”

He met her eyes. “But it didn’t.”

She flinched.

“I’ve seen people unravel. I’ve watched them go mad, break under power, under grief. That’s not what this is.”

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

He took another step. “This isn’t madness, Emily. It’s clarity. You saw what you wanted, and you took it.”

“I hurt someone—”

“She touched what was yours.”

Emily’s breath caught.

Caelan’s voice dropped, low and steady. “You think you’re falling apart, but I see something else. I see you becoming something amazing, someone you were always meant to be. Everything you did… you chose. Not because you’re broken. But because part of you—deep down—wanted to.”

He held her gaze like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

“You can hate it if you want. But don’t lie about what it is.”

Caelan didn’t look away. “It’s okay to feel that way.”

Emily blinked, unsure she heard him right.

“It’s okay to want to destroy the things that threaten what you care about. It’s okay to feel power when you fight. When you win. That doesn’t make you a monster.”

She opened her mouth to argue—but nothing came.

“I’ve felt it too,” he said. “That rush in your chest when someone crosses a line. That clarity. Like the world narrows to a single, perfect truth—them or you.”

Emily’s breath hitched.

“You think you’re losing yourself,” Caelan said softly, “but maybe you’re just finding out what’s always been there. What your world never gave you the space to admit.”

He was in front of her now. Not quite touching—but close. Close enough for her pulse to stutter.

“And what you did to Luvney…” His voice dropped, a shade darker. “It was hot as hell.”

Emily’s stomach flipped. Her face flushed.

His eyes flicked down her body—slow, deliberate—before meeting hers again. “The way you threw her. The sound of your voice. You looked like power itself.”

She realized then that he was closer than she’d thought—far too close—and she hadn’t even seen him move. The wall was behind her. His presence in front of her. Her heart caught somewhere in between.

“I should push you away,” she said, breathless. “I should—”

His hand came up gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face, barely grazing her skin.

“But you won’t.”

And gods help her… she didn’t want to.

Caelan’s gaze burned through her, as he lifted one arm and pressed his palm flat against the wall beside her head. The move was slow, deliberate—a cage made of muscle and magic. Her breath caught.

Then, with his other hand, he reached for her braid.

She didn’t move. Couldn’t.

He tugged gently at the braid, unraveling it and letting the strands fall until her hair spilled free down her shoulders and back.

His breath hitched.

That’s when she saw it—that familiar flicker behind his eyes. The fire. Need. Want. Not just for her body, but for all of her. The defiance, the rage, the magic. Everything.

Emily’s lips parted. “What are you doing to me?” she whispered, the words slipping out like smoke, breathless and raw.

His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her loosened hair until they wrapped tight at the base of her skull. He pulled—firm, claiming.

A small moan escaped her lips before she could stop it.

That sound broke something in him.

With a growl that barely reached his throat, he crashed his mouth onto hers, all restraint vanishing in an instant. The kiss was bruising and hungry. His arm pinned her gently to the wall as his body pressed closer, the heat of him sinking into her skin like wildfire.

Emily’s knees went weak. She clutched the front of his robes, fingers fisting the fabric, clinging like he was the only real thing in the world.

Because in that moment—he was.

But then—reluctantly, almost as if it hurt—she turned her face to the side and pushed against his chest, just enough to create a sliver of space between them.

“Wait...” She said breathlessly “Why didn’t you step away from her?”

Caelan froze. His hand still cradled the back of her head, but his eyes searched hers now, something shadowed and unreadable tightening his expression.

Emily pressed further, voice trembling. “She was right there. Practically on top of you. And you didn’t move.”

She didn’t need to say who, and he let his arms drop to his side and took a step back.

“I was watching, and you just… let her.” Her voice cracked, softer now. “You let her get inches from you.”

Caelan’s jaw flexed. “I pushed her away,” he said firmly, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “The moment she kissed me, I pushed her off.”

Emily held his gaze, her own eyes searching, wounded.

He exhaled slowly, like he was trying to steady himself. “I didn’t think she’d do it. We were arguing. I thought she was trying to manipulate me—again. I didn’t see it coming.”

Emily crossed her arms, more to hold herself together than anything else. “But you didn’t step back.”

“I know.” His voice dropped. “I know, and I should have. But I didn’t feel… anything for her. Not even when she touched me. I wasn’t frozen, I just—” he broke off, running a hand through his already disheveled curls. “I was thinking about you. The whole time. And then you were there, and the look on your face—”

He trailed off like the memory physically pained him.

Emily’s throat tightened. Her fists clenched at her sides. “It felt like betrayal.”

“I know,” he said again, stepping forward but not touching her this time. “But it wasn’t.”

His next words came softer, like he didn’t want to scare her away. “I could never. Not with you.”

Caelan’s eyes searched hers like he was peeling her open from the inside. “All I ever think about is you,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp. “Your lips. Your eyes. The way your body arches when I touch you.”

He stepped even closer, slow but certain, until his chest brushed against hers. The heat of him melted into her skin, and Emily’s breath hitched. Her heart was pounding, screaming at her to run—and to stay, to fall, to surrender.

He knew what that did to her. She saw it in that sly smirk he was giving her. The deliberate way he leaned in.

His hand traced the curve of her jaw, fingers warm as they slid down her face, lingering at her neck. She shivered under the touch, eyelids fluttering closed against her will.

“I can’t stop,” he whispered.

His hand moved to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair again. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Emily let out a trembling breath, barely enough to speak—but she didn’t need words.

He kissed.

The world collapsed into that one point of contact. Lips colliding. Breath shared. Heat rising between them so fast it felt like a fever. His grip tightened on her back as he deepened the kiss, claiming her mouth like he’d been starving for it.

And god, maybe he had.

Her hands fisted in his robes, and for a moment, there was no doubt, no fear. Only want.

His mouth was still on hers, hot and bruising, when Emily suddenly shifted. Her hands pressed flat against his chest, and she pushed him back.

Caelan blinked, breath uneven, his hair falling slightly into his eyes. For once, he looked… startled.

Emily didn’t give him time to recover. Her voice was low, almost a growl. “My turn.”

She took a step forward, then another, until he was backing up at her pace—his feet nearly tripping over the edge of the rug. She reached for his belt and loosened it with one sharp tug, letting his robes fall open. Her fingers slid over the black fabric, pushing it off his shoulders, revealing lean muscle and pale skin, a map of old scars and heat.

“Emily—”

“Shh.” Her voice was breathy now, but firm. “Let me.”

Caelan sank down onto the edge of the bed, watching her with eyes gone dark and stormy. She leaned down, hands on his chest, and pushed him back until he hit the mattress. He let out a soft exhale, clearly surrendering—though tension still coiled in his frame, like a blade held just barely in check.

Emily climbed on top of him, settling her legs on either side of his hips. She ran her fingers up the planes of his torso, slow and reverent, until they traced the strong line of his jaw. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment when she leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth, then his neck, then lower.

Caelan’s hands moved to her thighs, but she caught them and pressed them to the bed on either side of him, pinning him there.

“Stay,” she whispered.

He gave a short, breathless laugh. “You’re going to kill me.”

She smiled, leaning down until her lips brushed his ear. “That’s the idea.”

Then she kissed him again, deep and slow, rolling her hips just enough to make him curse under his breath.

There was no rush now—no desperation like their first time. Just heat. Intention. Her mouth explored him the way he had done to her, memorizing every inch, every shiver.

And Caelan let her.

Let her take control.

Let her unravel him completely.

Emily sat upright, straddling his hips, her breathing heavy. Caelan looked up at her like she was something holy—and something dangerous.

Her hands moved to the tie of her robes, fingers nimble despite the heat in her veins. His eyes never left her as she slowly pulled the fabric up over her head. She held his gaze as she slid the robe down her arms, letting it fall into a silent puddle behind her.

Now bare above him, the cool air kissed her skin—but it was his gaze that made her feel truly exposed.

Caelan’s lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no sound came. His hands twitched where she’d pinned them, instinct begging him to touch her.

Emily leaned forward, dragging her hands up his chest again, feeling his heartbeat thunder beneath her palms.

“You’re mine,” she whispered.

He nodded, breath ragged. “I’ve always been yours.”

She rocked her hips against him, deliberate and slow, and his head fell back with a groan that lit fire through her whole body.

Her hair fell around them like a curtain. Her skin flushed with heat. She kissed him again, deeply, fully, taking his lower lip between her teeth.

He made a sound that was half growl, half plea.

But still—he didn’t move.

He let her set the pace.

Emily sat up again. Her heart hammering.

And for once, Caelan—the dark mage who commanded armies and wielded the power to tear souls apart—lay breathless beneath her, eyes full of fire, letting her burn him alive.

Caelan’s eyes were locked on hers, wide and dark and barely restrained. Emily could feel the power in his body just beneath the surface, the way his hands twitched against the bed, like it was taking everything in him not to reach up and claim her.

But he didn’t.

He waited.

Emily leaned forward again, the length of her body brushing over his as she braced herself with one hand beside his head. The other hand found his chest, sliding slowly down the line of muscle, down his stomach, until he shivered under her touch.

She smiled—small, breathless, a little unsteady—and guided him gently with her hand, positioning him just right. He let out a sharp exhale at the contact.

“Emily,” he breathed, his voice nearly breaking.

Slowly, she sank down onto him.

Her body stretched and adjusted around him, every inch a slow, deliberate pull. Her breath caught, and her eyes fluttered closed as she eased him in deeper. He filled her completely, and she paused, adjusting, steadying her breath with a quiet gasp. Caelan’s hands clenched in the sheets, jaw tight, every muscle in his body straining not to move.

When she finally opened her eyes again, she found him watching her like she was something he didn’t deserve. Like he couldn’t believe she was real.

She moved first—slow and careful at first, testing the rhythm, learning him all over again.

Caelan groaned, low and deep in his chest, and finally reached up, his hands landing on her hips with reverence. He let her lead, only guiding her, grounding her, while she rocked against him with growing confidence.

Her name left his lips again, cracked and raw.

“Emily…”

The sound of it sent a shiver through her. She leaned forward again, pressing her forehead to his, their lips brushing, breaths shared.

They moved together like they had always known each other, like their bodies had been waiting for this moment long before they’d ever met. The bond between them pulsed like a heartbeat—tangible, electric. His hands traveled up her back, down her thighs, anchoring her to him as she moved.

And then—just when it was too much, when her breath turned to gasps and her rhythm faltered—he whispered her name again with something close to awe, and it broke her.

She fell apart in his arms, trembling against him, and he followed with a quiet, shuddering groan, pulling her down tight against his chest as he came undone beneath her.

For a long while, neither of them spoke. Their breathing was the only sound—harsh and soft, slowly evening out.

She didn’t move, still curled on top of him, her cheek resting just above his heart.

He stroked her back lightly, fingertips tracing meaningless patterns over her spine.

“I meant it,” he whispered finally, his voice rough in the quiet. “All of it. I’m yours.”

She swallowed hard and didn’t answer right away. But her fingers curled into his chest, holding him close.