Chapter 1
Kaete stood at the edge of the crowd, cloaked in shadow, watching as around her, human eyes began to glaze, their bodies swaying slow and languid. The melody pulled at them like flame draws moths to the dancefloor to mingle with the Unseelie predators that lurked in human guise. Their eyes shimmered, dull and glassy—caught between their world and the Fae's, helpless beneath the song’s spell.
The music swirled through the air, a sensual croon that drifted like smoke. Fae music vibrated with threads of magic, a pulse that thrummed in the bones of its listeners.
Like all Unseelie Fae things, it was beautiful and deadly, light and dark in equal measure. It could make humans forget who they were and surrender entirely to the magic, while the Fae remained untouched—eyes sharp, movements precise, circling like vultures, waiting for the mortals to let down their guard.
Sterling’s choice to feature a Unseelie Fae band on the opening night of his newest club for the Fae elite was no accident. It was like spiking the punch at prom—or slipping something into a drink. The humans that queued outside, desperate for entry, would leave with no clear memory of what had transpired—only a haze of decadence and a deep, gnawing need to return.
And they would return, again and again, spending at the door, at the bar—never realizing what had happened, or who they had danced and fucked with. All by design, shielding the elite Unseelie Fae who paid for the privilege of hunting humans out of the reach of the Summer Court.
The other Fae at the opening event were draped in modern glamour—sleek designer clothes, flawlessly styled hair, porcelain skin, every movement fluid and unsettlingly graceful. They blended perfectly with the humans. But beneath the crafted façades, they were, to Kaete's eyes, unmistakably Fae: pointed ears peeking from silken hair, slanted eyes glowing with ancient power. To the humans, they were moguls, models, CEOs, actors. Among the Fae, they were Lords and Ladies of the Winter Court.
Kaete sighed and sank deeper into her corner, wishing the night away. Draped in a traditional Fae robe she stood out like a flame in shadow, despite her every effort to disappear. The garment cinched neatly at her shoulder, layered over a pale underdress, one shoulder fastened with a delicate leaf-shaped pin: the mark of her lineage. House Corwin. An ancient name. A powerful one.
She would have worn something else—if Sterling had told her where they were going. But he hadn’t. He’d simply said to dress formally and be ready by eight. With little experience in the human realm, she’d defaulted to the safe choice in her wardrobe: one of her many traditional formal robes. Sterling hadn’t reacted when she came down the stairs, hadn’t offered a chance to change into something more fitting for a nightclub. She hadn’t realized her mistake until they arrived—and saw what everyone else was wearing.
A bitter knot tightened in her stomach every time his cold silver eyes landed on her—and they did, often. She wondered what went on behind that impassive mask. Was he embarrassed by his awkward, overdressed wife hiding behind a potted plant? Had he done this on purpose?
It was hard to tell with Sterling. He rarely spoke to her directly. And yet, ever since their wedding, her life had felt like one long, deliberate humiliation.
Sterling was the perfect Unseelie husband on the outside: the apex predator in a room full of them. He moved through the crowd with the practiced ease of someone born to dominate, his presence dark and magnetic, drawing every eye in the room—Fae and human alike. His suit was in the human style, black, simple, sharp lines, and immaculate. His eyes gleamed with cold silver fire, catching the dim light like mirrors of the night. And his smile—rare, precise—was a weapon honed to cut.
With a flick of his gaze, he could make anyone fall at his feet.
Especially Kaete.
Watching him set her skin alight, her heart racing and body aching. She just wished he felt the same. From the first moment she had seen him, she’d known that he was her mate. The twin flame of her soul. The bond shimmered between them whether he acknowledged it or not. It tugged at her, flaring under her skin every time he called her—a silken chain that bound her heart to his.
The first time she’d seen him—in that office of glass and steel high above the mortal city— she had known it, deep and sudden, as if the world had shifted around her. And when his eyes kept returning to hers during that meeting with her father and sister, she’d been sure he felt the pull too.
Two days later, her father announced the engagement. It hadn’t surprised her. The Fae fell fast, bound quicker. A soul mate could not be denied.
She had known the price of marriage to Sterling: life in the human realm. The Eastern family had once rivaled the Corwins in power, but something had happened—something unspoken—and they had been cast out of Faerie. But she had been willing to pay it, for her true mate.
And then, on the day of the wedding, when it was too late to withdraw, her sister Anastasia had whispered the truth to another Lady of the Winter court within Kaete's hearing: Sterling had asked for Anastasia first.
Kaete was the consolation prize. And to Sterling, Kaete was not a soul mate - she was a pawn—a necessary alliance to solidify his attempts to return to the Winter Court. She’d been raised to understand politics, yes—but nothing had prepared her for becoming a tool in someone else’s game.
Nearly a month later, the bitterness hadn’t faded. To give up everything familiar, to leave behind her realm, her family, her identity—only to find that the man she had bound herself to would never be fully hers was a bitter blow.
Being severed from the Fae Realm dulled a Fae’s magic. Which was why they treated the mortal world as a playground and holiday resort and not a permanent home. Despite his sharp suits and dangerous charm, everyone in the nightclub knew that Sterling’s power would have been eroded by years spent among humans.
Perhaps that was why he could view her so dispassionately, use her so cruelly, despite the bond. And yet, despite the weakening power and incomplete connection, he could still summon her.
His voice slid into her mind, low and resonant, thrumming along that inescapable tether between them. Come.
The command echoed through her skull, sharp and electric—stinging in a way no true Fae bond ever should. It was incomplete, fractured, and the shards of it burned. She felt it all—the sting, the pull, and the flicker of frustration beneath his cold calculation. It grated on him too; that much was clear. But whether it was the broken bond that annoyed him, or the fact that the only power he still held was the one tying him to her, she couldn’t say.
Kaete dragged herself away from the wall and weaved through the sea of glittering bodies and flashing lights, toward where he stood, imperious and untouchable. When she arrived at his side, his hand rested on her hip, pulling her flush in a way that with another man might have been possessive.
“We were just saying,” Lady Vale’s eyes dropped to the brooch on Kaete’s shoulder, then to the robes that she wore. “How proud Sterling must be of his new Corwin connection in order to insist that his wife display it so obviously.”
Kaete felt her cheeks heat. Her poor choice in clothing was being used against her husband. “I - ” she stammered, her eyes darting up at Sterling’s face. No wonder he had been giving her such cold looks across the room. He must have thought that she had deliberately dressed to humiliate him.
“I am proud,” Sterling replied calmly. “And nostalgic. I remember the Winter Court from my childhood there, and the elegance of the traditional formal robes worn in our Realm. Whilst I have embraced the human way, like any Fae, I long to walk the forests of our Realm, and the dark halls of the court once more. Embracing the advantages of the human world should not come at the cost of our traditions, don’t you agree?”
“Oh, of course.” There was a flicker in Lady Vale’s eyes. “I had forgotten that you were old enough to attend the courts before-”
“Before,” Sterling’s smile was tight lipped as he interrupted smoothly. “My family’s exile to the human realm.”
Kaete worried her bottom lip, her gaze flicking between her husband and the Lady Vale, wondering not for the first time, just what had happened to Sterling’s grandfather.
“Sterling, darling,” came the sweet voice of Celeste Delavine, cutting through the conversation like a blade. The half-human beauty approached, her high heels clicking against the floor. She had the kind of beauty that could stop hearts, the kind of charisma that made people worship her. But in the society of ancient Fae, it would never be enough for her to be considered their equal. “There you are!”
Celeste held a glass of red wine in her hand and as she moved closer, she slipped, intentionally or not, and the glass tumbled from her hand, spilling the crimson liquid all over Kaete’s robe. “Oh, honestly, Kaete! Must you be such a klutz?” Celeste flicked the remnants of wine from her fingers as she inspected the clinging off-the-shoulder red dress that she wore. There was not a drop of wine on her. “You’ve ruined my dress. Watch where you're standing next time.”
The wine soaked through Kaete’s robe, staining the white and silver sheer fabric a dark, humiliating red—like blood. She stared down at the spreading blotch, her cheeks burning with shame.
Of course Celeste had taken the opportunity to draw first blood. Kaete had no doubt the spill was deliberate—an elegant strike masked as accident, twisted in the next breath to make Kaete the clumsy aggressor and Celeste the wounded party.
Sterling’s voice, cold and cutting, sliced through her thoughts. Come. It was sharper this time, a command laden with impatience.
“Excuse us,” Sterling spoke aloud to Lady Vale as his fingers closed around Kaete’s arm with unrelenting force, propelling her through the crowd, toward the back of the club where a door marked STAFF was half hidden behind a screen. The moment they passed through the door into the quieter hallway beyond, the thumping music faded into a faint murmur, and the sharp scent of magic faded.
“Sterling,” she started, but the words caught in her throat, suffocated by the tension between them.
He didn’t look at her. Instead, he gripped her arm even tighter, his gaze fixed ahead, his jaw clenched in irritation. She stumbled behind him as he led her up the stairs, her heels clicking in a frantic rhythm against the cold stone floor.
When they reached the top, he pushed open the door to a sleek, minimalist office. It was all dark wood and rich leather, a far cry from the glitter and glamour of the nightclub below. He let go of her arm, crossing the room toward a mini fridge. He grabbed a bottle of soda water, cracked it open, and shoved it toward her.
“Clean yourself up,” he ordered, his voice as cold as ice.
Kaete nodded, too weary to argue, and slipped into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind her with a finality that felt like a trap closing.
Inside, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She barely recognized the pale woman staring back at her. The wine stain on her dress was a red splotch of humiliation, but it was nothing compared to the ache in her chest.
From outside the bathroom, she heard Celeste’s voice and laughter as she entered.
Sterling’s response cold and angry. “Did you have to do that?” His voice was clipped, a thin thread of frustration running through it.
“I didn’t do anything. It was the wine’s fault.” Celeste replied, her tone dripping with feigned innocence. “Why are you so angry? She’s nothing, a glorified pawn, or so we agreed, didn’t we? That was the plan, or don’t you remember?”
“Kaete is none of your business,” he snapped. “Stay out of my marriage.”
“You’re angry,” Celeste’s voice was hurt. “With me. About her. Think about it for a moment Sterling. You’re angry with me about her.”
There was a long pause. “I’m sorry,” his reply was very quiet.
“Don’t be sorry with your words,” Celeste’s tone shifted to seduction. “Show me what I mean to you.”
There was a moan, and then something fell to the ground. Wood creaked in an unmistakable rhythm. Kaete closed her eyes, pressing her palm against the cold tile of the wall as Sterling made the other woman moan in pleasure and beg him for more. And then Kaete drew in a deep breath, pulling the broken pieces of herself together and she unclipped the shoulder of the robes, letting the satin undress drag the attached gauzy sheer layer down her body to puddle at her feet.
She stepped out of the pool of fabric carefully, before gathering it up and holding it over the sink. With shaking hands, she poured soda water over the stain, trying to rub the gauze free of wine, but nothing changed. The dress was ruined. And so was she.
She slid the dress back on and faced the mirror, her chest tight with dread, her heartbeat drumming against her ribs. The stain still clung to the sheer layer of the fabric, faded from red to pink like an aged scar and being wet had turned the fabric semi-transparent and stuck it to the satin underlayer, leaving nothing to the imagination.
She hesitated to use a charm to dry it, knowing that doing so would the stain into the fabric irrevocably.
In the office, she heard Sterling call Celeste’s name in a moment of passion, and the rhythmic creak of the desk slowed and stopped. Celeste’s voice murmured, too quiet for Kaete to hear the words. She imagined them together, still entangled from their love making. Perhaps Celeste stroked her fingers through Sterling’s dark curls as she murmured to him.
Kaete let herself break for a moment, pressing her palms into her eyes as her shoulders shook with silent sobs. It wasn’t the ruined dress. Or even the humiliation of being the target of public cruelty. It was the destruction of all her hopes and dreams.
She had thought something that she felt so strongly had to be mutual. But she was wrong. So very, very wrong.
She inhaled sharply, muttered the charm to dry her clothing, before gripping the sheer layer of her robe at her shoulder, and ripping it free of its stitching. It tore easily to the waist, and there stuck in the seam stubbornly. She scoured the vanity and found a pair of nail scissors. In a flurry of slicing and tugging, the sheer layer was finally peeled back, stripped to the unstained satin beneath. She yanked her hair free from its intricate braids, letting it fall wild in its natural curls, and shoved her feet back into her shoes.
The reflection that met her gaze was not polished. It was wanton and wild. There was something brazenly sensual in her unravelling. Something very elementally Fae.
She pushed open the door. The scent hit her immediately—lust and perfume, cloying and unmistakable. She clenched her jaw and forced herself not to flinch.
Sterling stood by the window, a crystal glass of amber whiskey dangling from his fingers as he stared out at the glittering cityscape. His tall, lean, elegant grace too ethereal to truly belong in such a mundane human setting even set against so spectacular a view.
He turned as he heard the door. For a second, his face betrayed surprise.
“I’m finished,” she said coolly, stepping into the room like it didn’t reek of betrayal. “Apologies for the delay.”
“Kaete…” He breathed, the ice in his glass clinking as his hand slackened.
She didn’t respond. Head down, she crossed the floor and opened the door that led back to the grand hall. He followed at her heels. She did not need to look behind to know it. She always knew when he was close. That was the curse of being bound to someone through the Fae bond—you still felt them, even when they didn’t return the connection fully.
“Kaete,” he tried again, just as she stepped out into the blare of music, the hum of Fae power, and the press of bodies.
She didn’t pause. The crowd swallowed her. She wove through the revellers seeking to put distance between them. She spotted Celeste by the bar. The half-Fae’s breath caught, her eyes narrowing as she took in Kaete’s altered appearance, her expression reflecting a moment of recalculation.
Kaete caught a crystal goblet of wine from a passing tray and drained it in one swallow, using the liquid courage to move out onto the dancefloor.
A man moved toward her—tall, lean, and confident. His grin showed inhumanely sharp teeth, and his tunic clung to a body that was beautiful by any standard. Not Fae, but some Unseelie from the Winter Court. There were many Unseelie creatures, and not all of them possessed names.
This Unseelie man was close enough to the Fae in form, that what he was beneath it did not matter. Their eyes met and something electric flashed between them. “Dance, beautiful Lady?” He enticed, extending his hand in invitation.
“Hands off my wife,” Sterling’s growl cut through the music, feral and loud enough to draw eyes. He shoved the other man back, stepping into her space, staking his claim with posture and voice. “Kaete,” he said, hands gripping her hips, leaning down to meet her eyes. “We are leaving. Now.”
She didn’t want to go. She wanted to drink and dance and forget. She wanted the distraction of warm touches and hungry gazes. She paused confused by that realization. It was not like her. Not like her at all.
Sterling yanked her against him. He smelled glorious—the scent of him dark, masculine and maddening. Her hands slid up his chest, fingers tracing the cut of his shoulders. “I want to dance,” she told him breathless with her desires. “I want to fu-”
His breath hitched. “We’re going. Now,” he snapped, voice trembling with something dangerous.
Around them, the mood had shifted. They were an island within a restless sea of movement, and their small drama had caught the attention of the sharks in the water. Fae gathered, their eyes bright, pupils dilated. The air thickened in wicked anticipation and malevolent hunger.
“Kaete,” he growled drawing her eyes back up to him. He spun her so her back was to his chest so that she could see all the eyes watching. “You’re in heat,” he said low in her ear. “If you don’t want to be the center point of a Unseelie orgy, you need to come. Now.”
Panic clenched her gut. She saw it then—the wild glint in their eyes. Her scent had flipped the room, changing the tone from celebration to ravishment.
This time, when he pulled her, she followed.
Outside, the cold hit like a slap. He sucked in air like he’d been suffocating inside, like her scent was poison. The humiliation hit hard and fast, landing in her chest like a blade.
He barked at the valet, keeping her close, snarling low warnings at any who had followed from inside and came too near. When the car arrived, he practically threw her into it and slammed the door. He drove with the window down and the music turned up, preventing any words being exchanged between them.
She turned toward her own window and cried quietly; her reflection warped in the glass. Her face looked foreign—red-eyed and twisted with pain. What an idiot she had been. Every Fae woman went into heat once they became sexually active and whilst the sex between her and Sterling couldn’t be described as particularly active, he did come to her bed at least twice a week since their marriage. She should have known that this was coming.
She had failed him again. Disrupted his night. Ruined his plans. Made a spectacle of them both.
When he pulled up at the house, its dark towers and ivy-draped balconies loomed like a haunted fairytale, and the lights on in the lower story windows letting them know that some staff lingered, perhaps finishing their duties for the night before returning to their own homes.
He slammed the car door, the sound loud in the silence, and gravel crunched beneath his feet as he rounded the car. He opened her door, not meeting her eyes.
“Go to your room,” he said, voice low and cold as ice. “Wait for me.”
