The training room was a vast, echoing space below the main mansion, smelling faintly of old stone and polished leather. It was sparsely furnished, dominated by intricate weapons racks and a large, padded mat in the center.
Mia stood stiffly, dressed in the dark, practical attire, trying to ignore the heat still simmering beneath her skin from the exchange in the chambers. The bond was a live wire between her and Asher, currently pulsing with an energy that felt like a quiet, coiled spring.
Asher entered from a side door, already moving with the effortless grace of a lethal predator.
"Your training begins here," he stated, his voice flat, professional, and devoid of the intimate heat from moments ago. "You must learn to control your human responses—fear, panic, pain. They are vulnerabilities here."
He circled her slowly, his gaze assessing her readiness. Mia stood her ground, forcing herself not to tremble, clinging to the small, defiant flicker of her will.
"You will start with simple defense," he continued, stopping directly in front of her. "In this world, an attack is rarely physical first. It is mental."
He lifted a hand, and before she could react, he plunged a mental probe into her mind, not aggressively like Kael, but with devastating surgical precision.
Show me your brother.
The command, channeled through the bond, was immediate and irresistible. A vivid, painful memory flashed behind her eyes: her brother, young, laughing, then the grim reality of his disappearance and the crushing weight of his debt. The surge of grief and desperation was overwhelming.
Mia gasped, stumbling back a step, clutching her head. "Stop! Get out!"
Asher caught her before she fell, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against his hard, unyielding body. His touch was cold, bracing, yet intensely commanding. The contact instantly ramped up the bond, mixing her raw pain with his cold, possessive interest.
"You must build walls, Mia," he murmured against her ear, his breath cool against her heated skin. "If a mind can be breached so easily, the body will soon follow. Your mind is mine, yes, but it must be an impenetrable fortress to all others."
He released her, stepping back only inches, letting the weight of his physical presence sink in. "Again. This time, push back."
He sent another wave—a flicker of the fear she had felt under the gaze of the Court. She clenched her jaw, focusing on her hatred for his control, and forced the image of a cold, blank wall into her mind.
The mental pressure eased slightly.
"Better," he conceded, a faint, predatory smile touching his lips. "But resistance is not enough. You must learn to use the bond, not just endure it."
He stepped closer, closing the distance until they were pressed chest to chest again. He brought his hands up, not to strike, but to settle on her shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the tense muscles.
"The bond is a two-way street," he said, his voice low, his eyes locking on hers. "When you feel my desire"—and he sent a raw, sudden jolt of it through the bond, making her gasp and arch her back—"you can send back your need."
Her body trembled violently, responding instantly to the invasive wave of desire. Her breath hitched. The proximity, the force of his touch, and the terrifying hunger pulsing through the bond was too much.
"I—I don't need you," she managed, though her voice was weak, betraying the heat pooling low in her stomach.
He tilted her head back, his fingers sliding from her shoulders to cup her neck, his touch possessive but oddly stabilizing. "Liar," he whispered, his eyes blazing with dark amusement. "Your pulse screams otherwise."
He lowered his head slowly, deliberately, giving her time to protest, but the force of the bond was paralyzing her will. He pressed his lips to her ear, his voice a sultry rasp that sent shivers of pleasure and terror down her spine.
"The training will teach you the power of this tether, kitten. You will learn that my dominance is the only shelter in this world. And your submission... is the only price."
He pulled back, his eyes dark with unspent hunger, satisfied with her non-verbal surrender. He turned, picking up a dull training blade from a nearby rack—a long, wickedly curved piece of steel.
"Now, the physical test," he announced, his voice abruptly businesslike. "If they breach your mind, you must be able to defend your life. Attack me."
Mia stared at him, utterly disoriented by the rapid shift from searing intimacy to cold command. "Attack you? I can't."
"You must," he insisted, his eyes hard. "Use your anger. Use your fear. Use the desperation that brought you to Eclipse." He took a stance, the blade resting lightly in his hands, presenting a terrifying, dominant challenge.
The training was grueling. He didn't use the blade, but he moved with impossible speed, effortlessly dodging her clumsy attempts to strike, using his weight and leverage to send her sprawling onto the padded floor again and again. Each fall was a lesson in her own fragility.
"Too slow! Too human!" he barked after she missed a desperate swing.
He towered over her, his shadow enveloping her prone form. She felt the shame, the exhaustion, and the familiar, humiliating surge of attraction to his overwhelming power.
He knelt, his face inches from hers. "You are fighting like you still have a choice," he murmured, his thumb brushing sweat from her temple. "You don't. You only have survival. And to survive, you must be mine—in mind, body, and action."
He stood, offering his hand. The touch, once again, was electrifying—a mixture of steel and fire that jolted through her, amplified by the bond. She took his hand, accepting the dominance, accepting the tether.
"Tomorrow," he said, pulling her smoothly to her feet. "We work on control. Control of your mind. Control of your body. And control of the bond."
Mia knew the truth: there would be no control. There was only the deepening surrender to the vampire prince who had claimed her, whose desires now echoed in her very soul.