Bound By Ice Marked By Fate

"Lord Vangelis said we should drop you at the hotel first. You need some rest," the chauffeur said.

"Where is he?" Fiona asked.

"He stayed back, but he'll be the one to pick you up from here," he answered, opening the door.

Fiona stepped out, handing him the bouquet of flowers. "You need this. I'll take it from here."

The chauffeur bowed and returned to the car. Fiona walked into the hotel room, shrugging off her jacket. She loosened her dress, letting it slip off as she reached for her bathing robe. Just as she fastened the tie, the door flung open.

She didn't need to turn around. "Welcome back, Vangy," she said, rummaging through her bag.

"You wouldn't be a bad wife," a deep voice replied.

Fiona froze. That wasn't Vangelis.

Her head snapped up as she turned. "What are you doing here, Phoenix?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he stepped forward, gripping her arms and pulling her toward the bathroom.

"Phoenix—what are you—? You can't just—" she protested as his fingers brushed over the knot of her robe.

His lips crashed onto hers, slow but insistent, his teeth teasing her lower lip. His grip tightened around her waist while his other hand tangled in her hair. Fiona resisted—just for a moment. Then her body betrayed her, melting into his touch.

The robe loosened. Slipped.

I'm trying to make you mine," Phoenix murmured, pushing Fiona to face the mirror.

Her jade-green eyes flickered, shifting—deepening—until they burned with an electric-blue glow.

The shower poured down, drenching their bodies as he trailed slow, heated kisses down her neck. His breath was hot against her skin as he buried his face there, his lips parting just enough for his teeth to graze her throat.

"I want you to always look like this," he whispered. "Your eyes should match mine."

Later That Night

Phoenix ran his fingers through Fiona's damp hair as she rested on his chest, both of them tangled beneath the covers.

"Jade," she called softly.

"Yes?" He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

Her voice was almost fragile when she spoke. "What pushed you to bed with me today? I thought… we were done."

Phoenix exhaled, his grip tightening around her. "You need sleep."

"But I don't want to sleep," she snapped.

He let out a quiet chuckle. "You leave me no choice but to chant you to sleep."

Fiona hesitated, then sighed. "I don't know what I want, Jade. I'm so confused. Vangelis has been good to me, and I know he'll be a wonderful part of my life. But look at us…"

Phoenix's expression darkened, unreadable. "It's okay. You need rest."

"Acero, Acero, domini doyan," he murmured, his voice thick with power. Fiona's lashes fluttered before she finally surrendered to sleep.

Hours Later

The door knob turned.

Phoenix disappeared in an instant, teleporting to the balcony as Vangelis entered the room. The man moved silently, his steps deliberate as he approached Fiona's sleeping form.

Vangelis cupped her face gently, murmuring an incantation. A glowing pyramid of magic formed around her, its light pulsing as it responded to his spell.

Phoenix's eyes narrowed. He knew exactly what this was—the rite to reveal the true color of her wolf.

A smirk ghosted his lips, but his expression remained otherwise unreadable.

"This is just the beginning, Vangelis," he murmured to himself. "Her color won't align with yours."

Fiona woke to a sweet, intoxicating aroma filling the room. Her body felt heavy, different.

She dragged herself out of bed, freshened up, and made her way to the dining hall—only to find the table covered in an array of dishes, each more inviting than the last.

Then, Vangelis stepped out. Shirtless, save for an apron tied around his waist, his red hair pulled into a small bun.

Fiona smirked, resting her head in her hands. "I'm so proud of my marriage. My Vangy is a husband material."

Vangelis chuckled but didn't miss the paleness in her face. His expression softened. "You're still weak from the ritual."

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I just… feel different, Vangy."

He walked closer, his fingers tilting her chin up. "It's because of the rites I performed yesterday. But you're fine. And right now—" his voice lowered, eyes darkening "—this is the perfect time to bond you. Please… give me your permission.Fiona closed her eyes and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to Vangelis's lips.

He responded with equal hunger, his

hands slipping beneath her shirt, lifting

it over her head. Without breaking

contact, he scooped her up effortlessly,

placing her onto the table.Their breaths mingled, the heat between them heat undeniable.His gaze darkened as he parted her soft milky thighs, trailing his fingers over her skin before claiming her completely.A low growl escaped him as he moved slow and deep at first, savoring the way she fit around him. Then, as desire took over, his pace quickened, their bodies colliding in a rhythm that set fire to the air around them

Fiona clung to him, gasping, whispering his name like a plea.

Vangelis held her closer, burying himself deeper until he finally shattered, his release marking her as his as a sudden pattern formed around Fiona's neck, swirling like ink spreading beneath her skin. It darkened, solidifying into a tattoo—but at its center, a hollow space remained.

Without warning, Vangelis lowered his head and sank his fangs into that open mark.

Fiona's body arched as a sharp, burning sensation coursed through her. She gasped, a scream tearing from her lips. But then, something unexpected happened—her old scar, the one that once marred her neck, vanished completely.

Her vision blurred. The world tilted.

And then—wolves.

Two of them. One pure white, its fur gleaming under an unseen light. The other a deep, blood-red, its eyes glowing with something ancient and untamed. They stood across from her, watching. Waiting.

Her knees buckled.

"Fiona!" Vangelis caught her just before she collapsed, cradling her against his chest. Her breathing was shallow, her body limp in his arms.

Whatever had just happened… it had changed her. Forever.

Roxanne stepped through the door, entering a corridor swallowed in frost. Ice coated the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling, shimmering under the moonlight that filtered through tiny cracks above. The cold bit at her skin, but she moved forward, her breath visible in the frozen air.

After walking a few paces, she reached another door. With a steadying breath, she pushed it open.

Inside, a young man hung in chains, suspended on a raised platform. His body was motionless, his pale skin almost blending with the frost around him. Strands of long, white hair draped over his face, partially concealing his sharp features.

Roxanne stepped closer, her gaze trailing over him. "If his heart is still beating, I can elevate his powers," she murmured to herself.

Cautiously, she pressed two fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse.

Then—he moved.

A sudden, jerking motion.

Roxanne gasped, stumbling backward, her breath catching in her throat. Her wide eyes locked onto his as he slowly lifted his head.

Crystal-clear, piercing eyes met hers, gleaming with something unreadable.

Her pulse thundered. "I'm with Corinne," she whispered in protest, as if saying it aloud would steady her trembling hands.

But the way he was looking at her… made her question everything.