I never expected the ritual beads to feel this heavy where they cross my scar. Rebecca's gaze pins me in place at the enclave's gateway arch, and the unspoken command hangs there like a spell waiting to bind.

For years I have been the protector, the warlock who holds the line without faltering. Yet the thought of sinking to my knees under her orders awakens a need I have buried deep, one that her binding magic could finally claim if I let her voice wrap around me.

The danger is that once I yield, the rivals circling our enclave will see the cracks in my strength and destroy the bond we both depend on to survive. What I cannot admit is how much I crave the moment her command puts me under.