60 Days Before the Mate Bond Kills Me

The pain hit at two in the morning like a ruptured wire inside my chest.

I barely made it out of bed before my knees gave out, sending me hard against the cold bathroom tiles. I curled onto my side, clutching my ribs as violent convulsions tore through my lungs. Every gasp felt like breathing broken glass. The mate bond was eating itself alive, stripping away the lining of my chest cavity piece by piece.

I lay there for twenty minutes, shaking, pressed against the porcelain base of the sink, watching dark blood pool at the corner of my mouth.

*Fifty-six days.*

I was running out of time, and the panic finally snapped the last thread of my restraint.

When the spasms subsided enough for me to stand, I wiped my face and opened the locked bottom drawer of my vanity. Tucked beneath an old pack directory was a tiny, unmarked glass vial of low-dose root aphrodisiac I had purchased in a moment of sheer terror months ago and swore I would never use. It was meant to heighten natural pack pheromones, nothing more. A subtle spark.

*Just enough to lower his guard,* I told myself, my hands trembling as I slipped the vial into my pocket. *Just enough for him to take the initiative so my wolf doesn't die.*

It was a sick, desperate lie, and I hated myself the second the thought formed in my head. But fear makes a monster out of anyone.

I walked down the dark corridor to the second-floor study.

Cassian was down in the armory inspecting weapons, but his evening routine never changed. A crystal tumbler filled with two fingers of amber bourbon sat waiting on the silver tray beside his desk.

I stepped into the dim room, unscrewed the tiny dropper, and let two drops fall into the amber liquid. The clear oil vanished instantly without a trace.

My heart pounded so hard I could hear it ringing in my ears. I backed away and stood near the bookshelf, waiting in the shadows.

Ten minutes later, the heavy oak door opened.

Cassian walked in, unbuttoning his collar, the scent of crisp night air clinging to his dark jacket. He looked exhausted, the sharp angles of his jaw tight with tension. Without looking around, he walked straight to the bar tray, picked up the glass, and downed half of it in a single swallow.

He set the glass down with a soft click and exhaled.

"What are you doing in here, Elara?" he asked, not turning around. He had caught my scent the second he crossed the threshold.

"I wanted to talk," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turned, but as he moved, a sudden shudder ran through his broad shoulders. He paused, gripping the edge of the mahogany desk.

His pupils dilated, swallowing the gray of his irises until his eyes looked almost black. A deep flush crept up his throat, heating his skin. His breathing thickened, his chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven surges. The subtle cedar scent he always carried flared into an overwhelming wave of heated musk and suppressed desire.

The drug had combined with the starving mate bond, hitting his system with terrifying speed.

Cassian stared at me, his gaze dropping to my lips, then down the curve of my throat. The cold distance he wore like armor shattered in an instant, stripped away by the chemical surge coursing through his veins.

He crossed the room in two strides.

Before I could breathe, his hand shot out and clamped around my waist, his grip bruisingly tight. He shoved me back against the edge of the large desk, trapping me between the solid wood and his towering frame.

"What is this?" he rasped, his voice raw, rough with a feverish intensity I hadn't heard in over a year.

His face dipped into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply against my skin. His body was burning hot, radiating a fierce, suffocating heat that sent an electric jolt straight through the dormant channels of my bond. My dying wolf let out a desperate, joyful whine, trying to pull him closer.

His other hand slid up my thigh, his large fingers digging through the fabric of my robe.

"Cassian..." I gasped.

He pressed his hips hard against mine, pinning me down. His mouth brushed against my jawline, seeking the sensitive patch beneath my ear where the mating mark should have been.

In that blinding second, reality slammed into me like a wall of ice.

This wasn't him. This wasn't a man choosing to touch me, choosing to save my life, or choosing to look at me with real affection. It was a chemical reaction forced into his blood by a coward who was too terrified of dying to keep her hands clean.

If he touched me like this, I was no better than everything he accused me of being.

"Stop," I whispered, the word catching in my throat.

His mouth found the corner of my lips, his grip on my waist tightening until it hurt. He wasn't listening. The drug had taken the wheel.

"Cassian, stop!"

I slammed both palms against his chest and shoved him with every ounce of strength left in my body.

The sudden resistance broke his focus. He stumbled back a step, blinking hard, his chest heaving as he fought against the thick haze clouding his eyes.

"Don't touch me," I said, my voice shaking violently as I scrambled off the desk. "There was something in the bourbon."

Cassian froze.

The fever in his eyes didn't vanish, but a terrifying, razor-sharp clarity cut straight through the fog. He looked at the half-empty glass on the silver tray, then back at me.

"What did you say?" His voice dropped to a deadly, venomous register.

"I put root extract in the glass," I confessed, my voice breaking. The guilt was a physical weight crushing my ribs. "A low dose. I thought... I thought if you just started, if you touched me, you'd feel the bond and understand. But I was wrong. I can't do this to you."

Cassian's jaw worked as absolute fury replaced the chemical heat in his blood. He slammed his fist down onto the desk so hard the crystal glass rattled and tipped over, spilling amber liquid across his territorial maps.

"You drugged me," he said, the words vibrating with disgust.

"I panicked, Cassian. I was on the floor coughing blood twenty minutes ago—"

"Shut up!" he roared, stepping toward me with an intensity that made the air in the room turn thin.

He loomed over me, his hands curled into white-knuckled fists at his sides as he fought the remaining effects of the stimulant.

"You didn't panic," he snarled, his gaze tearing into me with pure contempt. "You planned this. You slipped a sedative or a heat-inducer into my drink so you could climb into my bed while I wasn't in control."

"I stopped it!" I cried, tears finally burning my eyes. "I pushed you away before anything happened!"

"Because you realized you couldn't control the outcome!" He stepped in closer, his voice dropping into a vicious, mocking whisper that cut straight to my marrow. "How badly do you need my child, Elara?"

My entire body went completely numb. "What?"

"How far are you willing to go?" he demanded, sneering down at me. "Were you planning to trap me while I was impaired? Conceive an heir in my office so you could wave a positive test in front of the council before I could file for an annulment?"

The accusation hit me so hard my vision blurred.

He didn't see a dying woman. He didn't see a mate in agony. He saw a calculating parasite trying to steal a pregnancy to protect a title.

Before I could find my voice, the study door swung open.

Talia stood in the hallway, wearing a pale silk nightgown, her hand resting gently against the doorframe. Her soft brown eyes took in the overturned glass, the spilled bourbon, and the heavy, charged air between Cassian and me.

"Cassian?" she said softly, her voice trembling with concern. "I heard shouting from down the hall... is everything alright?"

She walked in, glancing between us with an expression of pure, innocent sympathy.

"I smelled the root extract from the corridor," Talia murmured, looking at me with wide, pitying eyes. "Elara... please tell me you didn't."

I stared at her, my throat locked tight.

Talia turned to Cassian, placing a gentle hand on his tense forearm. "Don't be too hard on her, Cass. She... she must just be terrified of losing her Luna position. People do reckless things when they feel their status slipping away."

Every word was delivered with gentle perfection, sliding the knife directly into the wound and twisting it.

I looked at Cassian.

He didn't push her hand away. He didn't correct her. He stood there in stony, absolute silence, letting her words cement his conviction that I was nothing more than an ambitious schemer.

The last trace of hope inside me withered and died.

I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, pulled my robe tight around my trembling frame, and looked Cassian dead in the eyes.

"I stopped it," I said, my voice steady, hollow, and completely devoid of warmth. "Remember that part."

I turned my back on them both and walked out into the dark hallway, leaving the shattered remnants of our bond behind.