The wind howled like a wounded beast through the broken alleyways of Duskshore, rattling windows and carrying the scent of blood and secrets. Kael pressed his back to a crumbling brick wall, clutching his trench coat tighter around him. His breath steamed in the frigid air, but it wasn't the cold that made him tremble.
It was the knowledge that his own clan was hunting him.
Ever since the fae elders had confirmed his condition—pregnancy, an impossibility among their kind—Kael had become a threat. An anomaly. A prophecy they hadn't expected to manifest.
And now, they wanted him silenced.
Beneath the coat, his skin tingled where the crimson sigil burned faintly. Elias's mark. No matter how far he ran, he could feel the pull—like ghost fingers sliding down his spine, reminding him of that one night. That heat. That bite.
Kael ducked into an abandoned church, the heavy doors groaning in protest. The stained-glass windows painted fractured light over dust-covered pews, the silence inside reverent and cold. He moved toward the altar, collapsing to his knees, pressing a palm against his belly.
The life growing within pulsed faintly with otherworldly energy.
He whispered, "Please hold on. Just a little longer."
---
Across the city, Elias stood in the middle of his ancestral chamber, surrounded by the old guard of the vampire mafia. The room pulsed with tension, their red eyes watching his every move.
"You summoned us," one of the elders growled. "We thought you were dead."
"I was dead," Elias replied coolly. "But something brought me back. Something… crimson."
He extended his arm. The sigil on his wrist flared to life.
Gasps echoed. Murmured curses.
"The pact has been triggered?"
Elias nodded. "He's carrying my heir."
A violent crash shattered the tense moment—one of the lieutenants had slammed his chair back.
"That's impossible!"
Elias turned, fangs sharp beneath his lip. "And yet… it happened."
The memory of Kael's scent—laced with spice, power, and innocence—flooded his mind. The way Kael had writhed under him. The heat. The magic. It hadn't been just lust. It had been binding.
He flexed his hand, the sigil burning red.
"He's in danger," Elias said. "And I'm going to find him."
---
Kael knelt by the altar, unaware of the silent figure watching from the shattered balcony above. Dressed in shadow, the fae assassin slid along the beam, dagger glowing with warding runes.
Kael winced, sensing a disturbance, but too late.
The blade flew.
It stopped inches from his chest—clenched in the hand of a man cloaked in black, his crimson eyes glowing.
Elias.
Kael gasped, scrambling back. "You…?"
"I found you," Elias said, voice thick with need and fury. He dropped the dagger, eyes dragging over Kael's trembling form. "And you're carrying me."
Kael rose shakily, defiant. "You disappeared. I had no choice."
Elias closed the distance between them in a breath. "You are my choice."
And then he kissed him.
It wasn't gentle.
It was consuming—tongues battling, hands gripping fabric and flesh, Kael moaning into his mouth as Elias hoisted him against the altar.
"Still mine," Elias growled against Kael's throat, biting hard, marking him.
Kael's response was a broken cry, hips rocking against Elias's, fire coursing through his veins.
Clothes tore. Skin met skin. The ancient church bore witness to something unholy and sacred all at once.
---
Later, tangled together on the floor, Elias pressed a hand to Kael's belly.
"They'll come for you."
"They already are."
"Then let them." Elias's eyes glowed like fire. "Let them try to take what's mine."