Bound by Blood, Chosen by Fate.

The wine glass trembled slightly between Kate’s fingers as she sat alone at the bar, its delicate curve catching the dim amber light. The thrum of laughter and muted chatter from the other patrons did little to mask the steady beat of her own disappointment.

The night had promised more. The dress she wore—black, fitted, with a neckline she usually reserved for evenings meant to impress or simply to feel good about herself—now felt like overkill. She had even taken the time to straighten her wavy dark hair. Now, she tugged at the hem of her dress, resisting the urge to check her reflection in her phone’s dark screen. Insecurities threatened to spill over into emotion.

Alexander had been—well—pretty to look at. Classically handsome: a sharp, symmetrical jawline, a prominent brow ridge, and a strong, well-defined chin. His wavy dark brown hair was styled neatly, his five o’clock shadow meticulously groomed. Lightly tanned skin, flawless of course. But that was about it. He talked too much—mostly about himself. His smile felt rehearsed. And the way his eyes scanned the room when he thought she wasn’t looking made her stomach churn. She wasn’t the only one he was interested in tonight.

Still, she hated how drawn she had felt to him at first. There was something unnerving about those eyes—dark, intelligent, and almost… ancient. It wasn’t the kind of attraction that built slowly. It had hit her all at once, pulling her toward him like a magnet. Or like a lover from a half-remembered dream—something forgotten, and yet familiar.

She took a slow sip of her wine. She didn’t even really like wine.

“Date didn’t go well, green eyes?” the bartender asked, his tone light, not mocking.

Kate gave a breathy laugh and swirled what was left in her glass. “He kept checking out two other women, flirted with the waitress, and talked about his job like it was some kind of holy mission. But what really bugs me is…” She hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “...I was attracted to him. Strongly. I knew something was off, and I still didn’t want to walk away.”

The bartender gave her a sympathetic smile, polished a glass with a cloth that looked older than the bar itself, and moved off to tend to another customer. Kate watched him go, then turned her gaze back to her wine. The stem of the glass pressed against her palm, grounding her more than the drink ever could.

She wasn’t new to disappointment. But tonight, felt different—like she’d just stepped too close to the edge of something she couldn’t name.

A group of patrons came to stand near her, pulling her into light conversation. She welcomed the distraction. At least she could still enjoy the rest of the night.

Unseen by Kate, a man in the booth beside the bar lifted his head.

Ares sat in the shadows, elbows resting loosely on the table, the candlelight catching the glint in his piercing blue eyes. His expression was serious and focused, radiating a quiet strength and calm resolve. He had been listening—not just to her, but to the entire date. The moment Alexander walked into the bar; Ares had felt the shift. That slick charm. That aura of power cloaked in vanity. A predator pretending to be a prince.

“Your instincts were right,” Ares murmured to his second-in-command, Lucien, seated across from him.

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “She sensed it?”

“She felt the pull. That means she’s sensitive to bloodlines.” Ares’s tone was thoughtful, calculating. “And he knew it. He wanted her to notice him.”

Lucien leaned back in the booth, eyes following Kate as she rested her elbows on the bar, shoulders slightly hunched. “You think Alexander’s looking for a new member to join his court?”

“Maybe… maybe a mate,” Ares said, eyes never leaving her. “Or a plaything.”

Kate’s laughter broke through the air again. It was the kind of laugh that made people turn their heads—a full, unapologetic sound, too raw and honest for a place like this. It cracked through the room like sunlight in a storm.

“She’s not just sensitive,” Ares said slowly. “She might be dangerous to him. That means she’s important.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. “You want to intervene?”

“No,” Ares said, rising with the smooth, quiet grace of someone used to moving unnoticed. “But I can’t deny it—there’s something about her. I want to meet her.”