Chapter 35: Bound by Fire, Bound by Frost

The cabin was too quiet.

Not the silence of peace but of a storm waiting to break again.

Alistair Von Wolfenstein stood between Seraphina Blackthorn and Isolde Greaves, his pulse still roaring from the words that had left his mouth only moments before.

"Marry me. Both of you."

It wasn't a question.

It wasn't a plea.

It was a pact.

And now, the air between them was thicker than smoke not with desire, but with the sharp, unrelenting tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

Seraphina's Fire.

Seraphina leaned against the wall, her dagger once again spinning lazily between her fingers a slow, steady rhythm that echoed the dangerous smirk tugging at her lips.

But Alistair wasn't fooled.

Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

Her bare shoulder, still smeared with the blood of battle and last night's chaos, flexed every time the dagger twirled as though she was barely holding herself in place.

He could see the fire burning behind her gaze not the kind that wanted to accept what he was offering, but the kind that wanted to test it.

To push.

To burn.

And when she finally spoke her voice was low, rough it struck harder than a blade.

"So this is your grand solution," Seraphina murmured. "You think tying us to you to each other is going to fix this?"

Alistair's jaw tightened. "No."

Her smile sharpened. "Then what exactly are you hoping for, Captain?"

He didn't answer.

Because he wasn't sure.

Isolde's Frost.

On the other side of the cabin, Isolde remained near the desk her hand resting lightly on the edge, just inches from her rapier.

Not threatening.

But not relaxed either.

Her shirt was still only half-buttoned, her hair still a loose, tangled mess, but none of it softened the cold steel in her voice.

Her lips still red from last night's bruising kisses parted slowly. "Do you expect us to just… agree?"

Alistair's pulse thudded. "I expect you to survive each other."

A dangerous pause.

"And me."

Seraphina's dagger stopped spinning.

Isolde's grip on the desk tightened.

And the storm the one between all three of them twisted into something even more dangerous.

The Pact That Cuts Deeper Than Desire.

Seraphina took a step forward.

Not toward Alistair but toward Isolde.

Her bare feet barely made a sound on the wooden floor, but the tension that followed was deafening.

"You think this will stop us from fighting?" Seraphina's voice was a soft growl, her dagger now resting against her own shoulder. "You think this whatever this is will make me want her any less?"

Alistair didn't move.

Because he wasn't sure if the storm was about to break again if Seraphina would kiss Isolde like a weapon or put the blade against her throat.

And Isolde gods, Isolde didn't move either.

She just met Seraphina's fire with cold, steady defiance.

"I don't care what you want, Seraphina," Isolde murmured. "I never have."

Seraphina's smile sharpened. "Liar."

Alistair's voice cracked. "This isn't a fight"

Seraphina's dagger twitched. "It's always a fight."

Isolde didn't blink. "And you think marrying us will stop it?"

Alistair's voice was hoarse. "No."

The air broke not with a kiss this time, not with a touch but with words that cut deeper than any blade.

"But at least we'll be fighting on the same damn side."

The cabin went silent.

Because there it was.

The truth.

He didn't want peace.

He didn't want to calm the storm between them.

He just wanted to bind it to chain them together so they didn't tear each other apart.

Because he wanted both of them.

Needed both of them.

And he was willing to risk everything even their fury to keep them close.

The Uneasy Truce.

Seraphina was the first to break.

Her smile didn't fade but the dagger in her hand finally slipped back into the sheath strapped to her thigh.

"Fine," she whispered. "But don't expect me to play nice."

Isolde's jaw was still tight but her hand finally eased off the desk.

"I never do," Alistair rasped.

The storm hadn't passed.

But for the first time they weren't standing on opposite sides of it.

They were standing inside it.

Together.

And gods help them

It wasn't calm.

It was the eye of the storm.

And the next time it broke…

It wouldn't be with words.