~Elara's Pov~
His lips were fire.
Not the tender, aching kind I'd read about in books or seen in the kinds of love stories I never believed were meant for people like me. No. Kade kissed like a man starved, like this moment had haunted him across lifetimes and he couldn't afford to be soft. His mouth crushed against mine with a hunger so deep, so unrelenting, I felt it in my bones. And yet, somehow, I wasn't afraid.
My body melted before my brain had a chance to object. My fingers tangled in his jacket. My back hit the wall. His body pressed against mine, all muscle and violence wrapped in the scent of pine smoke and rain. I should've pushed him away. I should've screamed, run, fought for air. Instead, I pulled him closer. I gave in.
But it didn't last.
Because the second our mouths parted, the second our breath touched the same air again, everything in me rebelled. I shoved him hard. Not gently. Not playfully. I used the strength that sometimes scared me. And to his credit, he let me. He stumbled back a few feet, hands raised, chest heaving. His eyes were wild, golden, and wolfish.
"Don't," I whispered, my voice cracking with too much. Too much confusion. Too much heat. Too much grief.
"Elara—"
"I don't know you." I pressed a hand to my lips, like I could erase the feel of him. "I don't know this. You come into my life like a storm and expect me to believe we're... fated?" My laugh was sharp and broken. "You say you'll protect me and then talk about curses and death like they're foreplay."
"I never meant to."
"Don't lie," I snapped, stepping past him. "You meant every word. You didn't come here to woo me, Kade. You came to mark me."
He flinched. Just slightly. "I came because the bond is real. Because whether you believe it or not, I am bound to you. And you... to me."
My hands shook, but not from fear. From knowing. Somewhere deep in my marrow, something recognized the truth in his voice. Something ancient and buried rose to the surface, clawing at my ribs.
"I can't do this," I whispered, turning away.
I didn't hear him leave. When I finally turned back, the room was empty. The air felt thinner, colder. My knees gave out beneath me, and I crumpled to the floor like a child too tired to pretend she's strong.
And that's when it started.
The flash.
The memory.
The curse hidden in my blood cracked open like a door swinging off rusted hinges.
I was standing in the woods. Not the ones from my childhood, but somewhere deeper, older. The trees were tall and gnarled, their branches twisted like clawed hands reaching toward a blood-red moon. I was barefoot, and the soil beneath me was damp and warm, as though pulsing with life or death. I heard laughter. Feminine. Cruel.
A woman stepped from the shadows. Her hair was long and white, her eyes black as pitch. She wore robes the color of dried blood, and around her neck hung a chain made of teeth. Human teeth.
"You've brought her to me," she said in a voice that rasped like dying leaves.
I turned and saw him.
Not Kade.
But someone who looked like him. Same eyes. Same face. But younger. Rougher. Wilder. Shirtless. Bleeding. Kneeling before the witch with his head bowed in shame.
"She's only a child," he said. "You promised."
"I promised no such thing, wolf." The witch grinned, revealing sharpened teeth. "You broke the pact. You laid with my daughter. You spilled royal blood without my blessing. For that, your line will suffer."
The child she referred to me was behind them. Lying in the grass. Sleeping. Peaceful. Unaware of the war my existence had started.
"Mark her," the witch hissed. "Curse her. Let her carry the weight of your sin. Every time one of your kin finds their mate, they will rot from the inside out. Let love be the noose around your necks."
"No," the wolf-man whispered, tears mixing with blood on his face. "Please. Curse me. Not her."
But it was too late.
The witch lifted her hand, chanted words I didn't recognize, and the mark bloomed across the child's side a black crescent, etched in moonlight and agony.
Me.
The memory shattered like glass, and I screamed.
Back in my apartment, I lay curled on the floor, sweat coating my skin, breath coming in ragged gasps. My side burned where the mark was. Burned like it had been branded anew. I clawed at it, desperate to remove it, erase it, anything but the skin was smooth. Unbroken. No scar. Just that cursed symbol, mocking me.
It wasn't just a birthmark.
It was a brand.
A key.
A prison.
I crawled to the bathroom and turned on the tap, splashing cold water on my face, gripping the porcelain like it could anchor me. My reflection in the mirror looked wrong. Not like me. My hazel eyes gleamed with something feral. My mouth—kissed, bruised, trembling—looked like it belonged to someone else. Someone who belonged to him.
And worst of all, the part of me that had always felt... missing? Hollow?
It was gone.
Whatever he'd awakened, whatever we had unlocked with that kiss it had filled the void I never knew how to explain. I wasn't empty anymore. I was aware. Of him. Of myself. Of the thing inside me that had always waited.
I was something more than human.
I was something dangerous.
And it scared the hell out of me.
I wrapped myself in a blanket and curled up in bed, but sleep didn't come. My body was too alive, my nerves on fire. I kept thinking of that vision—the witch, the man who looked like Kade, and the child I used to be. It wasn't just some dream. It was a memory. A memory buried in blood and magic. But how? Why me?
Unless...
Unless I wasn't just born with the curse.
Unless I was the curse.
I sat up, heart pounding. No one had ever told me who my real parents were. Just vague files, inconsistent records, and missing dates. I'd been bounced from home to home, always with a warning in my file: uncontrollable emotional fits, unusual strength, vivid hallucinations. I'd been medicated, counseled, and sedated but never seen. No one ever looked past the symptoms. No one ever asked what I was hiding from. Because even I didn't know.
But maybe Kade did.
Maybe that's why he found me.
Not just because I was his mate... but because I was the echo of a sin committed long before either of us was born. A sin he carried like a chain around his neck. A chain that now belonged to both of us.
I pressed a hand to my stomach and exhaled slowly.
The war hadn't started yet.
But the blood had already chosen sides.