Page 154 of Bound to the Dreadlord

The High Court of the Dark Elves looms before me, carved from obsidian and lit by the flicker of ancient torchlight. The walls breathe with centuries of power, of whispered secrets, of beings who were born in darkness and never left it.

I do not belong here.

Yet here I stand.

The great hall is packed—nobles in their silks and shadows, warriors with blood still under their fingernails. All of them watching me. Not with amusement.

With expectation.

This is Veylan’s ceremony. But I am the one who must decide.

The mating bond of the dark elves is no mere vow. It is older than memory, deeper than magic. It is a permanent tether—of blood, of spirit, of something that binds souls through eternity.

If I speak the words, I choose him.

Forever.

The court is silent, breath held. His brothers flank the outer ring of the chamber, power coiled tight around their bodies like leashed lightning. They aren’t here to interfere.

They’re here to witness.

They know how this ends. Not with Veylan claiming me.

But with me claiming him.

Still, I take a step forward and feel every eye shift with me.

And I say the words I know must be said.

“I will not belong to anyone.”

The murmur is instant—whispers rippling like poison through water. A scoff from the back. A sneer from one of the elder lords. The press of judgment fills the air like smoke.

Veylan doesn’t flinch.

I look at him, waiting for a demand, for a protest, for the dark intensity that always followed his hunger.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, his voice is quiet. Rough.

“You don’t have to choose me.”

He steps forward—not close enough to touch, but enough that I feel the gravity of his presence.

“But I can’t live in a world where I don’t belong toyou.”

The words hit harder than any command ever could.

They land in my chest, where all the broken things still reside. And suddenly, I am not standing in front of a crown or a court.

I’m standing in front of a male who has stopped asking to be loved—and started offering to behersinstead.

Mine.

I say nothing. I turn.

And I walk away.

---