The Touch of War

The VIP room was soundproofed, upholstered in crushed velvet the color of dried blood. It smelled of expensive leather and impending violence.

Julian sat on the center sofa, his legs spread, his elbows resting on his knees. He had placed the scanner on the table. It was humming softly, a low blue light pulsing.

He watched me enter. He didn't stand.

"Close the door," he said. His voice was gravel rolling down a hill. Deep. Resonant.

I closed it. I stood there, clutching my robe.

"They call you Cassia," he said. "No last name. No registry file. No voice."

I touched my throat and shook my head, keeping my eyes wide and innocent. *The mute girl. The tragedy.*

"I'm not here for the sob story," Julian said, standing up. He moved with terrifying speed for a man his size. He circled me, sniffing the air subtly. "I'm tracking a Class-Five magical signature. A Siren. It killed a squad of my men three blocks from here last week. Liquefied their brains."

I kept my face impassive. I knew that incident. A young Siren, a fledgling, had lost control. I had felt her song ripple through the ley lines. I hadn't known she killed guards.

"The signature leads here," Julian murmured, stopping behind me. "To this club."

He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "Are you hiding her, Cassia? Is she one of the girls?"

I turned to face him. I needed to distract him. I needed to scramble his scanner and his brain.

I let the robe drop.

Underneath, I wore only silver chains and strategically placed diamonds.

Julian blinked. For a second, the soldier faltered. His eyes raked over me, and the amber flare in his irises darkened.

I stepped into his space. I placed a hand on his chest, right over his heart. I could feel it beating—slow, steady, powerful.

I started to move.

A lap dance is a negotiation of power. Usually, I surrender power to take their money. With Julian, I took power to save my life. I pushed him back onto the sofa. I straddled his hips.

He went rigid. "I didn't ask for this."

* You want it,* I thought. *I can smell the war in you, but I can smell the lonely man beneath it.*

I ground my hips against him, slow and deliberate. I ran my hands up his chest, over the lapels of his suit. I needed to touch his skin. Sirens can manipulate the bio-electricity of a target if we touch skin. I could calm him, fog his memory, make him leave.

I reached for his neck. He wore a collar of high shirt, but his jaw...

I pulled off my long satin glove, finger by finger.

Julian watched, mesmerized. His breathing hitched.

I reached out, my bare fingertips grazing the rough stubble of his jawline.

The moment my skin touched his, the world didn't just shift; it shattered.

**BOOM.**

It wasn't a sound. It was a sensation. A golden, searing shockwave exploded from the point of contact, racing down my arm and slamming into my core. It wasn't the cold drain of using magic. It was a feedback loop. A roaring, blazing fire of connection.

My vision went white. I gasped, a sound tearing from my throat that wasn't a song, just a raw intake of air.

Julian roared.

He grabbed my hips, his grip bruising. His head snapped back, his eyes rolling up before snapping back to mine.

They weren't amber anymore. They were molten gold. The color of ichor.

* MINE.*

The word echoed in my skull. It wasn't my thought. It was his.

I froze, terror icing my veins.

A Mate Bond.

The universe had a sick sense of humor. Of all the beings in existence—gods, mortals, monsters—fate had tethered my soul to the one man born to destroy me.

Julian looked at me, dazed, his aggression replaced by a terrifying, overwhelming possessiveness. He touched my face, his hand shaking.

"Who are you?" he rasped. "What did you do to me?"

The scanner on the table began to shriek. It was picking up the energy spike of the bond.

I had to get out. If he cleared his head, if he checked the scanner, he’d see I wasn't human.

I tried to pull away. "Let me go."

"No," he growled, pulling me flush against his chest. "You don't leave. You belong to me."

He buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell like... home. Like the sea before a storm."

He was scenting the Siren in me, but the bond was translating it into something he loved.

I was trapped. I was in the arms of the God-Killer, and he was falling in love with the prey.