The summons scroll comes sealed in Victor's wax, and the pact requires me to enter the torchlit chamber for the inspection that will decide the alliance. He conducts it himself, and my defiance falters before I have crossed the threshold.

Quietly I prepare to be bound and examined, fearing he will find me inadequate in every way the ritual demands, yet the hunger in his gaze mirrors the one I hide, turning this sacred duty into the intimacy we both pretend we do not want.

On the creaking table his obsidian horns will catch the light above me, and I fear the birthmark on my thigh will be where the line between duty and desire finally breaks, exposing us both.