Page 93 of The Madness Within

He watched me like I’d become the very fire he swore to protect, and possibly burned for.

We didn’t speak on the way back. We didn’t need to. Our thoughts were stitched together, pulsing with the same realization…

We wouldn’t survive what’s coming unless we did it together. Completely.

We stood in the spell room beneath the manor. No lights. No false ceremony. Just us.

The circle was drawn in salt and blood. The air was thick with incense and raw magic. A candle sat between us, its flame tall, blue, and untouched by wind.

Dorian knelt across from me, bare chested, eyes glowing like the night sky split in two.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice lower than I’d ever heard it.

I nodded. “I’ve never been more sure in my life,” I whispered. “I want this.The bond.No escape clause. No undoing. Just… You.”

He exhaled, like he’d been waiting to hear those words for centuries. Then, without a word, he retrieved the blade, simple, silver, cold as grave soil. I offered my hand before he could ask.

He sliced his palm. I mirrored him. Blood welled, warm and crimson, and when we pressed our hands together over the flame, it smeared across the offering bowl, two halves becoming whole.

The fire roared to life, a golden blaze spiraling upward like a serpent summoned from the depths. The circle beneath us lit with ancient runes, pulsing in time with our heartbeats. The air thickened, charged with magic and something older than either of us.

Dorian’s voice dropped, guttural, reverent. "Sanguinem tuum in sanguine meo. Anima tua in anima mea. In vita, in morte, in aeternum."

Your blood is mine. Your soul is mine. In life, in death, in eternity.

I repeated the words, my voice trembling but certain. "Sanguinem tuum in sanguine meo. Anima tua in anima mea. In vita, in morte, in aeternum."

The circle flared blindingly bright. Our names echoed, not spoken, but felt, in the marrow of bone and the edges of the world. And just like that, we were bound. Not lovers. Not just mates. But husband and wife.

Forever.

He cupped my cheek.

“You’re mine now,” he said. “In every way.”

“And you’re mine, my husband.” I whispered. “For whatever time we have left.”

Then he kissed me.

And the spell sealed.

The bond snapped into place like a whip, hot, electric, primal. Our hearts beat in perfect rhythm. I felt his magic crash through me, into me, and mine into his, merging like storm fronts.

The kiss deepened. It wasn’t gentle. It’s raw. Consuming. Holy.

Clothes fell away in seconds.

And he took me, right there in the circle, our bodies tangled in sweat and spell light. Every thrust drove deeper into the bond. Every moan bound us tighter.

I rode him with desperation, his hands gripping my thighs, his teeth at my throat. He murmured my name like a chant. I cried out his like a curse. Our orgasms hit together, loud, trembling, soul-deep.

And when it was over, we collapsed into each other, glowing faintly gold where the bond sealed beneath our skin.

“I feel you, husband” I whispered.

He nodded. “Always, my wife.”

We lied in silence, the candle still burning beside us.

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