Chapter 4 · The Covenant Has Teeth

"Move."

"Mara."

"You want me to save your city? Let me work."

"Not like this."

"Then stop holding me."

Ronan's chest pressed against my back. His arm locked around my waist, keeping me from the moon-glass panel while white light crawled across its surface.

His breath brushed my ear.

"The council put a kill seal on the panel."

I went still. "You didn't mention that."

"You didn't ask."

"I was busy being publicly rejected by the man who apparently needs me alive."

His arm tightened.

"You think I don't know what I did?" he asked.

"I think you know exactly what you did." I twisted against him. "That's worse."

The moon-glass flashed.

Pain ripped through my palm.

I screamed and tore free. A thin cut had opened across my hand—too straight, too clean. Blood spilled over my fingers and dripped onto the black floor.

Ronan's face changed.

Not fear.

Recognition.

"Show me."

"Get away from me."

"Mara, show me your hand."

"Why? So you can reject the wound too?"

He caught my wrist and dragged me under the high window.

Moonlight poured over our hands.

The cut split wider.

Across the room, Ronan sucked in a breath.

A matching line tore across his chest beneath his shirt.

Blood soaked through the black fabric.

I stared at him. "What the hell is that?"

"Don't touch me."

"You just told me to show you my hand."

"I said don't—"

He bent over the table, one hand braced against it. Blood ran between his fingers.

My palm burned like I'd pressed it to a stove.

"Take off your shirt."

His head snapped up. "No."

"You're bleeding through it."

"The covenant hasn't started."

"Then why are we bleeding together?"

His jaw tightened.

No answer.

I stepped closer. "Take it off, Ronan."

"You enjoy giving orders now?"

"No. I enjoy not watching people die in front of me."

His eyes cut into mine.

"You called me a thief on live television."

"I called you a liar. If that shirt stays on, you'll bleed into it and pass out."

For a second, neither of us moved.

The sharp smell of blood and hot metal filled the space between us. His bare wrist brushed mine. Heat rolled off him, too strong for someone losing blood.

Then Ronan grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

The cut across his ribs matched mine exactly. It ran from beneath his heart to his side, opening every time he breathed.

I forgot my next insult.

His mouth tightened. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you just found another reason to hate me."

"I don't need another reason."

I pressed my bleeding palm to his wound.

His whole body jerked.

"Mara."

"Hold still."

"Your hand is making it worse."

"Then stop shaking."

"I'm not shaking."

"Your ribs are moving under my fingers. That's shaking."

His hand closed over mine.

Warm. Too warm.

His thumb dragged once across the base of my palm, right over the place where the bond had burned me in front of every camera in the city.

My breath caught.

His eyes dropped to my mouth, then lifted again.

Neither of us moved.

"You should've let them arrest me," I whispered.

"They would've used you to open the gates."

"And you won't?"

"I won't let them touch you."

I looked up at him. "Why?"

His grip tightened until his fingers hurt me.

"Because you're mine to protect."

I laughed once. It came out ugly. "You don't get to say mine. You gave that up."

"I know."

The answer came too fast. Too raw.

The wound across his ribs split open again.

Ronan dropped to one knee.

I caught his shoulder before he hit the floor. His skin burned beneath my hand, and his broken breath struck my wrist.

"Ronan. Stay with me."

"Sign the covenant."

"You first. Tell me what it does."

"It keeps the council from taking you."

"That's not all."

His eyes hardened. "No."

"What else?"

He looked down at my bleeding palm.

"We share pain. Dreams. Desire."

My fingers dug into his shoulder. "You buried that part."

"I tried."

"You failed."

His mouth pulled tight. "Obviously."

The building shook beneath us.

Metal screamed somewhere below. The moon-glass panel flashed again, and red lines raced across its surface.

Ronan reached for the black seal hanging beneath his collar.

It looked like cooled moonlight—sharp-edged, pulsing against his skin.

I backed away. "No."

"The gates have three minutes."

"Then give me access."

"I can't."

"You won't."

"Mara, if we don't bind now, the council gets you. They'll lock you up, cut the access out of your blood, and let the harbor flood while they blame you."

My stomach twisted. "And if I bind to you?"

His gaze held mine.

"Then you stay close to me until this ends."

"That sounds like a threat."

"It's a warning."

"You rejected me."

"I know."

"Say it." I stepped closer. "Say you don't want me."

His fingers closed around the seal.

For one second, he wasn't the High Warden. He was the man who had once stood close enough for me to feel his heartbeat through his shirt.

His voice dropped.

"I want you too much. That's why I rejected you."

My breath caught.

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

"Coward."

His eyes flashed. "Careful."

"What are you gonna do? Reject me twice?"

The corner of his mouth twitched, but the expression died before it became a smile.

Another crack split through the panel.

The red lines reached the final gate mark.

Ronan seized my hand.

I yanked back. "Don't you dare."

He caught my other wrist and forced both my palms against his.

His body pinned me between him and the table. Heat pushed through the thin fabric of my clothes. His breath hit my cheek, uneven and hot.

"Ronan—"

The seal pressed into our joined hands.

Pain flashed white.

The mark began to close between our palms.

His blood touched mine.

The room vanished beneath the sound of his voice—low, terrified, and suddenly inside my head.

"Don't let them find you—"