Sweat dripped from your forehead, mingling with the dirt and blood smeared on your skin. Every time you thought you had a moment to breathe, another attacker came at you, and your body responded on instinct, magic flowing through your veins, the strain almost unbearable.

A deafening roar echoed across the battlefield. You whipped your head around, searching for the source, and your heart stopped. Across the distance, you saw Rhysand—wings spread wide, his power radiating like a dark storm. He was fury incarnate, cutting down enemies with terrifying precision.

And then it happened.

It was like a shockwave, rippling through your very soul. Your vision blurred for a second, the world tipping sideways, but then the connection hit you like a lightning bolt. A sudden, overwhelming rush of love, devotion, protection, and need—so raw and intense it nearly brought you to your knees. It was Rhysand. You felt him. You knew him, every part of him, as if he had always been a part of you, woven into the very fabric of your being.

Across the battlefield, Rhysand froze. His head snapped toward you, his violet eyes wide with shock, his enemies momentarily forgotten as the bond roared to life between you. You could feel his disbelief, his wonder, and then—pure, undiluted love. It crashed through the bond, overwhelming you with its intensity, almost staggering you with its power.

Rhysand was suddenly in the air, his wings a blur as he soared above the battlefield. Within seconds, he was there, landing in front of you with such force the ground shook beneath your feet. His chest heaved, his dark, wild hair sticking to his brow as he turned, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that stole your breath.

"Mine," he growled, his voice rough with emotion. And then he turned, his wings flaring out to shield you from the advancing soldiers. With a snarl, his magic erupted, a tidal wave of darkness sweeping across the battlefield, obliterating the attackers with terrifying ease. His power was unstoppable.

"My mate."