Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Emily lay curled against Caelan’s chest. The room was still, the only sound the slow rise and fall of his breathing beneath her ear. Pale moonlight filtered through the arched window, casting silver ribbons across the stone floor. It had to be close to 2 a.m., maybe later, but sleep refused to come.

She stared at the stars through the glass, eyes unfocused, thoughts loud.

Caelan’s fingers combed idly through her hair, slow and gentle, like he could feel the storm gathering behind her silence. After a long moment, he murmured, “What are you thinking about?”

She hesitated. Then sighed, long and deep.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Just… who I’m becoming.”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I used to think I knew myself,” she said. “But now—” Her throat tightened. “I’ve changed. And not just because of the bond. Because of you.”

Still no reply.

Emily shifted, just enough to meet his eyes in the dim light. “What if I like who I am with you… too much?”

That made him go still beneath her.

She added, more quietly, “What if that version of me, scares me?”

Caelan's hand stilled in her hair, fingers tightening just slightly.

“You should like who you are,” he said quietly. “With me. Without me. Doesn’t matter.”

Emily looked up at him, uncertain.

He shifted, just enough to look her fully in the eyes. “You’re not becoming someone else, Emily. You’re becoming more you. The parts of you that were quiet before… they’re just louder now.”

She swallowed hard. “But what if those parts aren’t good?”

“Good is overrated,” he said simply. “Good doesn’t survive in this world. But real does.”

His thumb brushed her jaw. “You’re strong. Sharp. Protective. You feel things so deeply, and you don’t hide it. That’s not something to be afraid of.”

Her heart thudded in her chest.

“I’ve seen people twisted by power. Controlled by it. You’re not like that. You’re still choosing. Even when it hurts.”

Emily looked down, unsure what to say.

But Caelan leaned in, pressing his forehead gently to hers. “You think I don’t fight the same things? That I don’t wonder what kind of monster I am, letting someone die if it means protecting you?”

She blinked, stunned.

“I get it, Emily,” he said, voice low and steady. “I see you. And I want you. All of you. Even the parts you’re scared of.”

Emily’s breath caught at his words. The way he looked at her—like she wasn’t dangerous just his—made something inside her ache in the best, worst way.

She lifted her head slightly, searching his eyes. “You want all of me?”

“I already have you,” he murmured, voice husky. “Every breath, every look. Every time you touch me, you ruin me.”

His hand slid slowly down her back, anchoring her against him.

“And I like being ruined by you.”

Heat pooled low in her stomach.

Without thinking, Emily pushed herself upward and climbed on top of him, knees framing his hips. His eyes darkened instantly.

She bent down, brushing her lips over his with maddening slowness. “Then let me ruin you again.”

Caelan growled softly, flipping them with one smooth motion and pinning her beneath him. His mouth found her throat, her collarbone, her chest. Everywhere.

The rest of the night blurred into skin and fire and whispered names. Again and again.

They didn’t sleep.

-

A sharp knock jolted them both awake.

Emily groaned, dragging the blanket up over her bare shoulder as she buried her head under a pillow.

“Sorry, Your Majesty,” came a muffled voice through the heavy door. “But you asked me to wake you early for bond testing today.”

Caelan let out a gravelly sigh, deep and sharp, and ran a hand over his face. “Right,” he rasped, voice still rough with sleep. “Thank you.”

Silence returned, thick and warm—punctuated only by the sound of Emily groaning again as she flipped onto her stomach, dragging the covers with her.

“I hate your schedule,” she muttered, voice muffled by the pillow.

He glanced over at her, hair tousled, limbs tangled in sheets, and couldn’t help the slight smile that curved his lips.

“I hate it too,” he said, rolling toward her and pressing a kiss to the bare skin between her shoulder blades. “But you’re the one who said you wanted answers.”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

She peeked out from under the pillow just enough to glare at him with one eye. “Past Emily was an idiot.”

Caelan chuckled, already reaching for his clothes. “Then let’s go make her proud.”

Emily trudged into the arena, arms crossed tight over her chest as her boots scuffed against the dusty floor.

“This is pointless,” she muttered, eyeing the runes carved into the stone. “We’ve done this already. Spoiler alert: still bonded.”

Caelan didn’t even flinch. He walked a few steps ahead of her, dark cloak trailing behind him, his hair still tousled from sleep. “Go stand there,” he said, pointing to a marked spot near the center.

Emily arched a brow. “What, no warm-up lap? No inspirational speech?”

“Emily,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, “stand. There.”

She rolled her eyes but moved, dragging her feet just enough to make a point.

Caelan stepped into place opposite her and clasped his hands behind his back. “We’ll start with obedience.”

Emily exhaled sharply through her nose. “Great.”

His expression didn’t shift. “Don’t speak.”

Emily Raises her brows. “Yeah, that's not going to work. Never worked before so its deffinetly not working now.”

Without missing a beat Caelan moves on. “Don’t move.”

She blinked at him. “Seriously?”

“That was the command,” he said smoothly, watching her. “Now try to move.”

Emily pause then lifted her foot—no problem. She waved a hand around, then took a step back. “Wow, I’m shocked. I can actually move. Maybe the universe isn’t completely against me today.”

Caelan’s mouth twitched, just barely. “Good. Now—come here.”

Emily’s feet froze.

She clenched her jaw, fighting it. “Nope. Not doing it.”

Her legs wobbled forward a half step before she locked her knees. “Okay—kind of doing it.”

Caelan watched her calmly. “I didn’t even raise my voice.”

“Well don’t,” she snapped. “That’s cheating.”

He stepped closer, voice a shade lower. “Come here.”

Emily’s whole body tensed. Her hands curled into fists, her jaw locked tight—but she couldn’t stop her feet from moving forward, slow and steady, until she was standing right in front of him, glaring up at his face.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.

Caelan only nodded. “Verbal commands: resistible with effort. Physical command overlay—still works if enforced.”

Emily exhaled, irritated. “Love that for me.”

Caelan moved a few paces back, giving her space. His eyes didn’t leave hers.

“Alright,” he said, voice low. “Let’s test emotional echo. Try sending something to me. Remember like last time.”

Emily gave him a look. “I just focus on a feeling I want to send to you right?”

“That’s it.”

She frowned. But when she thought of him—really thought of him, standing there in the middle of the arena with his ridiculous calm and that slight, unreadable smirk—it didn’t take effort. It just happened.

A jolt of teasing frustration, heat curling low in her stomach, and a brief mental flash of how damn unfair it was that he could look that good.

Caelan’s eyebrows lifted a fraction.

“You're annoyed,” he said slowly. “And… flustered.” His mouth twitched, almost smug. “Also, impressed.”

Emily blinked. “I didn’t even try.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait, did you just feel how I—” She broke off, pointing a finger at him. “You got all that?”

Caelan gave a single nod, stepping forward. “It’s clearer now. Like your thoughts were right next to mine.”

Emily folded her arms. “That’s so invasive.”

“You started it.”

She rolled her eyes, then narrowed them playfully. Fine. If it was that easy, then...

See how you like this, she thought, and imagined the way his hands felt on her skin last night—warm and rough. She let the memory unfurl, raw and vivid.

Caelan’s expression shifted. His shoulders tensed.

“Emily,” he said, voice now slightly hoarse.

She smirked. “Too much?”

He exhaled, glancing away like he needed the break. “I think that confirms it’s working.”

Emily tilted her head. “You gonna test yours on me now?”

He looked back at her—just looked—and there it was.

Like being wrapped in warmth, steady and grounding. A weightless kind of awe. She felt it press against her chest—his feeling of her, of what she was becoming to him.

It almost knocked the air out of her.

Her breath caught. “Caelan…”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

She swallowed, skin prickling. “Okay,” she whispered, almost reverent. “We don’t need to test that anymore.”

Caelan gave a slow nod, then turned back toward the weapons rack.

“Pain test?” he asked without looking at her.

Emily sighed. “Can’t wait.”

Caelan picked a dagger from the rack—short, clean, and wickedly sharp. He turned it slowly in his hand.

Emily eyed the blade with a grimace. “You sure you don’t want to just pretend we did this part?”

He gave her a look.

“Fine,” she muttered, stepping in closer. “Just… be quick about it.”

“I will.”

Without ceremony, Caelan raised the dagger and sliced a shallow line across his palm.

Emily hissed—more from surprise than pain. A bright sting bloomed on her own hand, right across the same spot.

She looked down.

There was a faint scratch on her skin. No blood. Barely enough to break the surface. But it was there.

Caelan clenched his jaw, studying both wounds.

“Better,” he said. “Much better.”

Emily flexed her fingers. “Still not great.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you’re not bleeding out this time.”

“That’s always a win.”

She stepped in closer and gently turned his hand over to examine the cut, her voice softer now. “So if you took a sword through the gut, I’d just get… what, a stomachache?”

“Probably a deep bruise. Maybe a burn. But not a mirror injury anymore.” He looked up at her. “It’s fading. Slowly.”

Emily nodded, but something in her eyes tightened. “It’s still there, though.”

“Yes.” Caelan’s voice was quiet. “It’s not gone.”

For a moment, they stood there—his bleeding hand in hers, the ache of old pain between them. And something else beneath that. Something sharper. Warmer. Like knowing they were still tied, still holding part of each other whether they wanted to or not.

Emily looked up. “That’s the last test, right?”

“For today.”

She didn’t move. Just stood there in the center of the arena, fingertips brushing the faint scratch on her palm. “So…” Her eyes lifted to his. “What does that mean for the book heist?”

Caelan exhaled slowly, sliding the dagger back onto the rack. “It means I’m going in.”

Emily nodded and looked down.

He began stepping toward her. “The bond’s dull enough now that I can take more risks. If something happens, you won’t drop dead beside me.”

“That’s a comforting standard to clear,” she muttered.

Caelan ignored the comment. “I’ll lead the entry group myself. I want eyes on that vault the second it opens.”

Emily’s stomach twisted. “So you’ll be the first one through the doors. Into your father’s most secure archive.”

“Exactly.”

She crossed her arms, clearly unhappy. “And what about me?”

“You’re not going,” he said without hesitation.

Her brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

He lifted a hand to cut her off. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“No,” she snapped. “We’re talking about it now.”

Caelan held her gaze for a beat, tension thick between them.

But instead of answering, he turned and started walking toward the arena doors.

“Caelan—”

“Later, Emily,” he said over his shoulder. “I mean it.”