Chapter 4: The Elders' Summons

The grand council chamber loomed with the weight of centuries-old decisions, a place where destinies had been rewritten with mere words. The torches lining the stone walls flickered, casting eerie shadows that stretched toward the center of the room, where Elizabeth and Michael sat across from each other.

They had been summoned like children who needed scolding, but they were far from naive.

Elizabeth’s nails dug into her palm beneath the folds of her cloak. She hated this room. The last time she had sat here, she had walked out shattered. And now, these same elders—the same ones who had torn them apart, who had forced their separation—had the audacity to demand their reunion.

Michael, seated opposite her, exuded nothing but cold defiance. His arms were crossed, his jaw locked tight, but she knew him too well. The slight clench of his fingers against his bicep, the way his foot tapped once before stopping—he was just as tense as she was.

And beneath the tension, something else simmered. Something dark. Something neither of them had dared name.

“Elizabeth. Michael.” The head elder’s voice boomed through the chamber. “This war has gone on long enough. It must end.”

Michael let out a low, humorless chuckle. “And you think forcing us back together is the answer?”

Elizabeth scoffed, leaning forward. “How dare you?” Her voice was steady, but inside, rage clawed at her ribs. “You separated us when we were at our strongest. You caused this war, not us. And now you think an arranged marriage will fix what you destroyed?”

Silence.

One of the elders cleared his throat. “The bond between you was never meant to be broken. Perhaps we were… hasty in our actions.”

Michael’s eyes darkened. “Hasty?” He leaned forward, the space between them thickening with an invisible force. “You ripped her away from me. Do you even understand what that did?”

He wasn’t just talking about the war.

Elizabeth swallowed hard. The bond had been broken—but never severed. She had fought against it for years, drowned herself in duty, in war, in blood. But nothing had ever truly erased the connection between them.

And now, something was happening.

Her breath hitched as a slow warmth curled in her stomach. Not now. Not here.

Michael stiffened, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly.

He smelled it too.

It had started weeks ago—first, the restless nights. The dreams that left them gasping, waking up slick with sweat, bodies aching with want. Then, the moments when they crossed paths, when the air thickened, when every muscle in their bodies tensed because the space between them was suffocatingly small.

And now, sitting in this cursed room, with these fools discussing marriage as if it was some diplomatic transaction, their bond was pushing back with full force.

Elizabeth clenched her thighs, her fingers gripping the armrest of her chair. A slow, rolling heat pulsed through her, making her body betray her. Damn it. Not in front of them. Not in front of him.

Michael was no better. His breathing had shifted—just a fraction heavier. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles white as he fisted the fabric of his cloak. He hadn’t looked at her properly since they entered the chamber. Because he knew. If their eyes met now, if he saw the fire in hers, neither of them would be able to stop what was coming.

The scent between them was no longer just tension. It was hunger. It was raw. And worse—it was spreading.

The elders shifted uncomfortably, some clearing their throats, others looking away as if they had just now realized what was happening. The pull between Michael and Elizabeth wasn’t just affecting them anymore. The air itself was thick with it, pressing into every soul in the room.

One of the younger council members shifted in his seat, rubbing his neck, his face tinged red. Another woman’s breathing quickened, her fingers twitching slightly as her gaze flickered between Michael and Elizabeth.

Michael exhaled harshly. “This meeting is over.” His voice was guttural, his control slipping. He pushed back his chair abruptly, the scrape of wood against stone loud in the suffocating silence.

Elizabeth stood just as fast, her legs slightly unsteady, the ache in her lower belly making it hard to move with dignity. They needed to leave. Now.

But the elders weren’t done.

“This is not a choice,” the head elder snapped, standing to his full height. “The fate of your nations depends on it.”

Michael turned his head slowly, eyes dark and dangerous. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Elizabeth barely managed a breath before Michael grabbed her wrist and yanked her toward the doors. The second their skin touched, the pull between them ignited.

Her knees nearly buckled. A sharp gasp left her lips.

Michael cursed under his breath, gripping her tighter, his own control slipping.

And the worst part?

They could barely pass each other without breaking into sweat, without their bodies screaming for relief.

How the hell were they supposed to survive this bond now that it was coming back with a vengeance?

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