Updated Nov 6, 2025 • ~10 min read
Sage woke tangled around Thorne.
Somehow during the night, she’d migrated from the bed to where he slept on the floor. Or maybe he’d climbed up. Either way, she was now sprawled half across his chest, her head tucked under his chin, their legs intertwined.
The bond marks hummed contentedly where their wrists touched.
She should move. Should be mortified.
But Thorne was still asleep, his breathing deep and even, and he was so warm. And the marks felt quiet for the first time in days—no burning, no pulling, just peaceful golden-green light.
Sage let herself have one more minute. One minute of pretending this was normal, that waking up in Thorne Blackwood’s arms was something she did every day.
Then his breathing changed.
“You’re awake,” she said without moving.
“So are you.” His voice was rough with sleep, vibrating through his chest. “How long have you been awake?”
“Few minutes.”
“And you didn’t move.”
“The marks are calm. Didn’t want to disturb them.”
It was partially true. The marks were calm.
The honesty wards let it slide, probably because Thorne knew she was also just comfortable.
“We should get up,” he said.
“Probably.”
Neither of them moved.
“Sage?”
“Hmm?”
“Your hand is on my stomach.”
She became acutely aware that yes, her palm was pressed against his abdomen, right where his shirt had ridden up. Warm skin and the definition of muscles and—
She snatched her hand back.
The marks flared with pain.
“Ow!” they said in unison.
Sage put her hand back. The pain stopped.
They looked at each other, faces inches apart in the early morning light.
“The marks don’t like it when we pull away,” Thorne said.
“Apparently not.”
“This is going to make things complicated.”
“More complicated than sharing a room?”
“Fair point.” He shifted, trying to sit up while keeping contact with her.
They managed to untangle eventually, staying close enough that their shoulders pressed together. The marks had spread overnight—Sage’s now reached past her elbow, Thorne’s almost to his shoulder.
“They’re accelerating,” Sage said, tracing the new patterns on her arm.
“The two-week timeline was optimistic.”
“How long do you think we actually have?”
Thorne examined both their marks, his expression grim. “A week. Maybe less.”
Seven days until the bond forced completion.
Seven days to decide if they were choosing this or having it chosen for them.
“We need to shower,” Sage said, desperate to think about literally anything else.
“Agreed. But there’s a problem.”
“What?”
He gestured between them. “The marks are past the pain tolerance for being in separate rooms. I tested it last night while you slept. Made it maybe ten feet before I thought I was going to pass out.”
Sage’s stomach dropped. “So what, we just… don’t shower?”
“Or we shower together.”
Her face went nuclear. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m not suggesting we shower together-together. But maybe we take turns. One in the shower, one sitting in the bathroom.”
“That’s barely better!”
“You have a different solution?”
She didn’t.
They ended up taking turns, with Sage going first while Thorne sat outside the shower with his back to the curtain, reading a book on curse theory and trying very hard to think about anything except the fact that Sage was naked five feet away.
At least, that’s what Sage assumed he was thinking.
Because she was definitely not thinking about the fact that Thorne would be naked in that same shower in ten minutes.
Definitely not.
The water was scalding, but it didn’t help the heat in her face.
This was ridiculous. They were adults. This was just practical problem-solving forced by magical circumstances.
Except it didn’t feel practical when she could hear him turning pages, when she knew he was right there, when the bond marks pulsed every time she moved in a way that increased the distance between them.
She finished in record time.
“Done,” she called, wrapping herself in a towel.
“I’m not looking,” Thorne said without turning around.
Sage grabbed her clothes and changed quickly in the corner, hyper-aware of every sound he made.
“Okay, your turn.”
They traded places—Thorne to the shower, Sage on the floor with her own book.
She tried to focus on the words. Really tried.
But all she could hear was running water and the knowledge that Thorne was in there, and the bond marks were basically singing with happiness at having him so close.
“This is torture,” she muttered.
“What?” Thorne called over the water.
“Nothing!”
She buried her face in her hands.
A week.
Seven days of this increasing intimacy, this forced proximity that was starting to feel less forced and more like something she wanted.
The water shut off.
“Not looking,” Sage said quickly, squeezing her eyes shut.
She heard movement, the sound of him getting dressed. Then:
“Okay.”
Sage opened her eyes to find Thorne standing there in jeans and a black t-shirt, hair still damp, looking unfairly good for someone who’d just slept on a floor.
Their marks pulsed in sync.
“We need to talk about this,” Thorne said.
“About showering?”
“About all of it. The marks are progressing faster than expected. We’re running out of time to make a decision.”
Sage stood, and they moved to the kitchen together—a coordinated dance they’d perfected over the past few days.
Thorne made coffee while Sage started breakfast. Eggs and toast, simple and familiar.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Sage began. “About using the bond to break the curse.”
“And?”
“I think you’re right. Combined earth and shadow magic, merged at the soul level? That’s unprecedented power. If anything can break an ancient curse, it’s that.”
“But?”
She looked at him. “But I need to know what happens after. Let’s say we bond, we break the curse, everyone lives. Then what? We’re bonded for life. Where do we live? Do we lead both covens together? Separately? Do we tell our families the truth about the bond, or—”
“We tell them,” Thorne interrupted firmly. “No more lies. No more secrets. If we do this, we do it honestly.”
“They’ll hate us.”
“Some will. Others might understand. Either way, we can’t build a life on deception.”
“A life.” Sage tested the words. “You’re really thinking about that? A life together after this?”
Thorne moved closer, setting down his coffee mug. “I know this started as survival. As necessity. But Sage, somewhere along the way, it became more than that. At least for me.”
Her heart hammered. “More how?”
“I like you.” The honesty wards hummed. “I like how you think, how you question everything. I like that you talk to plants and make terrible tea and refuse to back down even when you’re terrified. I like working with you. Living with you.” He paused. “I like you, and I’m starting to think I could love you. Given time. Given a chance.”
Sage couldn’t breathe.
“This isn’t just about breaking the curse anymore,” Thorne continued. “Not for me. I want the bond. Not because I have to. Because I get to be bonded to you.”
“Thorne—”
“You don’t have to say it back. I know this is fast, I know we’ve only known each other a few weeks. But the marks are forcing honesty, and I’d rather you know the truth now than wonder if I’m only doing this out of obligation.”
Sage stared at him, her mind spinning.
Three weeks ago, she’d hated him. Or thought she had.
Two weeks ago, they’d been forced to work together.
One week ago, she’d started to realize he wasn’t what she’d been taught.
And now, standing in a kitchen with bond marks glowing on their skin, he was telling her he could love her.
“I’m terrified,” she admitted.
“Of me?”
“Of this. Of wanting it. Of letting myself believe that maybe we could actually work.” She touched her mark, watching it pulse. “I’ve spent my whole life being told that Thornes are the enemy. That trusting one would destroy me. And here I am, wearing your magic on my skin, thinking about forever.”
“Are you saying you want the bond?”
“I’m saying…” Sage took a breath. “I’m saying that when I woke up this morning wrapped around you, I didn’t want to move. I’m saying that I look for you when you’re not in the room. I’m saying that the idea of being bound to you doesn’t scare me as much as the idea of not being bound to you.”
Thorne’s eyes went wide.
“I don’t know if I love you yet,” Sage continued. “But I know I could. I know that you’ve become the safest person in my life. And I know that if we have to choose someone to bond with to save everyone, I’m glad it’s you.”
“Sage—”
The bond marks flared suddenly, blazing so bright they lit up the kitchen.
Pain hit a second later.
Not separation pain. This was different—deeper, sharper, like the marks were trying to crawl into their bones.
Sage gasped, grabbing her arm.
Thorne caught her, pulling her close. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know. The marks are—” She broke off as another wave hit.
Images flashed through her mind. Not hers. Thorne’s.
His memories—
A younger Thorne, maybe six years old, being told Mitchells were evil.
Teenage Thorne training in combat magic, learning to hate.
Adult Thorne at the Council meeting, seeing Sage for the first time and thinking she was beautiful even as he tried to hate her.
Thorne two days ago, lying awake while Sage slept, thinking I’m falling for her and being terrified.
The images faded.
Sage looked up at Thorne, breathing hard. “I just saw your memories.”
“I saw yours too.” His voice was shaken. “You, as a kid, asking why you couldn’t meet a Thorne. You seeing me at the Council and thinking I looked dangerous. You yesterday, thinking about the bond and wanting it.”
The marks pulsed again, and Sage felt it—a thread connecting her mind to his. Faint but growing stronger.
“The bond is progressing,” she breathed. “Past stage one.”
“We didn’t complete a ritual. We didn’t declare intention.”
“We just did.” Sage touched her mark, understanding dawning. “We told each other we wanted this. That was the intention. The marks took it as consent to progress.”
“To stage two.”
“Yes.”
They stared at each other.
Stage two was commitment. The stage where the bond became harder to break, where their magic started to merge.
“We can’t stop it now,” Thorne said. “Even if we wanted to.”
“No. We’re past the point of no return.”
“Are you okay with that?”
Sage searched his face. Saw her own fear and hope reflected back at her.
“Yes,” she said. “Are you?”
“Yes.”
The marks flared again, sealing the commitment.
No turning back now.
In seven days or less, they would be fully bonded.
For better or worse.
Forever.
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