CHAPTER 175

CHAPTER 175
SELENE

The underground chamber felt colder the longer I stood in it.

Eron had not moved far from me. He paced in a slow, deliberate circle, hands clasped behind his back, as if we were discussing the weather instead of my impending violation. The rogue who had dragged me here remained near the entrance, silent and watchful. Other figures lingered in the deeper shadows—more of Eron’s followers, I assumed—though none stepped fully into the light.

My spark flickered restlessly beneath my skin. I kept it leashed. Barely.

“You still don’t understand what you are,” Eron said at last, stopping in front of me. His crimson eyes studied my face with something that almost resembled patience. “That is not entirely your fault. Darius has always been sentimental. He would rather protect you than educate you. A costly weakness.” He tilted his head, almost curious. “I’m genuinely surprised the fool never tried to use your powers for his own personal gain. All that wild fae light at his fingertips, and he chose to play the noble lover instead. His loss.”

“Sorry,” I said, tilting my head. “I didn’t quite catch that. I was distracted by how much shorter you are than I expected. The way everyone whispered your name, I assumed you’d at least clear six feet without the help of dramatic boots.”

His mouth tightened. The faint amusement vanished.

“I am not short,” he said, voice suddenly sharp. “And you will keep that insolent mouth shut unless I ask you a question. Defiance is expected in small doses. Continual provocation will only make what comes next less pleasant for you.”

He turned and gestured toward the circular platform at the far end of the chamber. The stone was dark, almost black, and carved with intricate symbols that pulsed with a low, sickly light. 

At its center sat a low altar of the same stone, empty for now. Chains—thin, silvery, and etched with more runes—hung from the edges.

My stomach tightened.

“That,” Eron said softly, “is where your transformation begins.”

“I’m not transforming into anything for you.”

“You will not have a choice.” He walked toward the platform, and after a moment the rogue shoved me forward so I had no choice but to follow. .

“Fae blood is rare. True, undiluted fae blood even rarer. Yours is something older still—wild, untamed, tied to the raw pulse of life itself. Vampires have hunted it for centuries for a reason.”

He stopped at the edge of the platform and looked back at me.

“When consumed in small amounts, it grants temporary gifts. Strength. Speed. Resistance to sunlight for a short time. Euphoria that can drive even an elder mad with want. But those are scraps. Parlor tricks.” His eyes gleamed. “What I intend is far more permanent.”

I forced myself to keep my voice steady. “You’re going to drain me.”

“Eventually. Not all at once. That would be wasteful.” He stepped onto the platform, boots silent against the carved stone. 

“The ritual requires a living conduit. Your spark must remain intact while I weave my own power through it. Layer by layer. Drop by drop. The bond you share with Darius will serve as the anchor—his darkness already tangled with your light. I will use that connection to stabilize the transfer.”

A cold weight settled in my chest. “You’re going to use the mate bond.”

“Of course.” He sounded almost pleased that I had caught on. “It is the perfect bridge. His essence already recognizes yours. When I begin drawing your power into myself, the bond will try to compensate—to protect you, to balance the loss. In doing so, it will open a channel I can exploit. Darius will feel every moment of it. And when the ritual is complete, the bond will no longer belong to either of you. It will belong to me.” His smile turned thin and vicious. 

“Finally. A fitting revenge for the centuries he left me buried and cursed beneath the earth. Payback, as the mortals say, is a bitch.”

My spark flared hot with revulsion. “You’re insane. And when Darius gets here, he’s going to put you right back in that hole—maybe deeper this time, just to be thorough.”

Eron’s eyes narrowed. “He can try. He failed to keep me there once. He will not succeed a second time… especially not when I am wearing his mate’s power like a second skin.”

He moved to the altar and rested one hand lightly on its surface. The runes around it brightened in response, casting long, distorted shadows across the chamber walls.

“The process will take time,” he continued. “Hours, perhaps longer, depending on how strongly your spark resists. You will be bound to the altar. The chains are not merely metal—they are designed to suppress uncontrolled surges of fae magic while still allowing me access to the core of your power. You will remain conscious. I need you aware. Pain, fear, defiance—all of it feeds the working.”

I swallowed hard. “And when it’s done?”

“When it is done, your spark will no longer answer to you. It will answer to me. Your blood will sustain the new balance I create within myself. Sunlight will no longer be a threat. My strength will rival the oldest of our kind. And Darius…” Eron’s smile returned, slow and cruel. “Darius will feel the exact moment the bond is torn from him. I intend to make sure he is close enough to witness it.”

The distant pulse of the bond flared in my chest, as if Darius had somehow heard the threat. I clung to that faint connection like a lifeline.

“He’ll stop you,” I said.

“He will try.” Eron stepped down from the platform and stopped directly in front of me again. 

“And in the trying, he will give me exactly what I need—his presence, his power, his desperation. All of it will pour into the ritual through the bond. By the time he reaches this chamber, it will already be too late.”

He reached out and gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His fingers were ice-cold.

“You should be grateful,” he murmured. “Most vessels do not survive the first stages. You are strong enough that I believe you will. That makes you valuable. Almost… precious.”

I jerked my face out of his hold. “Don’t touch me.”

Eron only laughed softly.
“Such fire. It will be a pleasure to extinguish it.” He gestured to the others in the shadows.

“Kets not waste any more time on idle chit chat..Prepare her. Strip away anything that might interfere with the runes. Secure her to the altar. We begin the moment the final seals are activated.”

Hands closed around my arms.
That was the moment I stopped holding back.

My spark exploded outward in a violent burst of raw light. The vampire gripping my right arm screamed as the power seared through his hands, flesh blistering and blackening. 

I twisted hard, driving my elbow into the second one’s throat, and let another surge of fae energy rip free. Blue-white light flooded the chamber. 

Two more of Eron’s followers were thrown backward, crashing into the stone walls hard enough to crack bone.

“I will not surrender my power to a self-important parasite like you!” I snarled, spinning to face Eron. Light still poured from my skin, bright enough to make the nearest vampires shield their eyes. “You want my spark? Come and fucking take it.”

For a fraction of a second, surprise flickered across Eron’s face.
Then he smiled.

“There it is,” he said softly. “The wildness. Beautiful.”

They came at me from all sides.
I fought like something cornered and furious. A concentrated blast of light took one vampire in the chest and turned him to ash mid-lunge. I ducked under another’s grab and drove a knee into his stomach, following with a burst of power that sent him skidding across the floor. 

My spark was stronger than it had ever been—focused, furious, no longer completely wild after the binding—but there were simply too many of them. And I was atill a fucking newbie.

A heavy body slammed into me from the left. Another pair of hands locked around my wrists. 

I unleashed another flare of light and heard someone scream, but a third vampire drove a fist into my stomach hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. My concentration shattered for a critical second.

That was all they needed.
More hands seized me. Someone wrenched my arms behind my back. A cold, heavy weight settled around my throat—some kind of dampening collar that made my spark flicker and shrink inward with a painful jolt. I thrashed, still pouring every ounce of remaining power outward, but the light was weaker now, smothered at the source.

“Enough,” Eron said calmly.

They dragged me onto the platform. I kicked, twisted, tried to burn them even through the collar, but the silver chains snapped around my wrists and ankles with soft, final clicks. 

The moment the last cuff locked, a heavy muffling pressure crashed over what was left of my power—not extinguishing it, but smothering it completely, like a wet cloth thrown over a flame.

I slumped against the cold stone, chest heaving, wrists already aching from how hard I had strained against the metal.

Eron stepped into my field of vision, looking down at me with something close to approval.

“Magnificent,” he murmured. “You will be even more valuable than I hoped.”

He turned to the others. “Leave us. The ritual begins now.”

As their footsteps faded, he looked down at me once more, crimson eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction.

“Rest while you can, little spark,” he said. “The next hours will not be kind.”

I turned my face toward the dark ceiling and reached hard down the bond with everything I had left.

Darius. Hurry.
There was no clear answer.
Only the distant, furious throb of him—closer than before.

I closed my eyes and held onto that feeling as the runes around the altar began to glow brighter, and Eron’s voice rose in the first low, guttural words of the ritual.

The real nightmare was only beginning.