Sworn to the Covenant Bonus Scene

“I think it’s a little late for that,” I say.

His jaw tightens. I see it in the firelight, the way control settles over him like armor.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Of course it isn’t. Nothing with him is ever simple.

I fold my arms tighter around myself, even though I’m not cold. “Then what do you mean?”

Silence stretches.

The kind that feels like it matters.

“This place…” he says, low, like the ground might hear him. “It’s where things get decided. Where lines get drawn.”

My pulse stutters. “Lines?” I repeat.

He fixes his gaze on me, and something in his expression makes my chest ache. “Yeah,” he says. “The kind you don’t cross back over.”

I swallow.

This is what I wanted, isn’t it?

To be here. With him. Inside whatever world he’s been holding me outside of for years.

So why does it feel like standing on the edge of something I don’t fully understand? “Then why bring me?” I ask.

His gaze drops to my mouth for half a second. Then back up. “Because I ran out of reasons not to.”

That… shouldn’t make my heart race the way it does. But it does.

God, it does.

I’ve wanted this man for longer than I care to admit.

Months of watching him from across kitchens and back rooms. Of pretending I didn’t notice the way he always stood just a little too close. The way he’d look at me like he was measuring something and then walk away before I could figure out what.

I thought it was disinterest. Or worse… nothing at all.

I didn’t know it was this.

This… tension. This pull. This constant, quiet war he’s been fighting with himself.

“For someone who didn’t have reasons,” I murmur, “you were pretty good at staying away.”

His mouth curves, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah,” he says. “Wasn’t easy.”

My breath hitches. That shouldn’t feel like a confession. But it does.

The fire shifts. Sparks jump, drift, disappear into the dark.

I take a step closer.

He goes still.

“Then why now?” I ask softly.

He exhales through his nose, like I’ve just made something harder than it already was. “Because you don’t belong out there,” he says, nodding vaguely toward the darkness beyond the firelight. “And I’m done pretending I can keep you safe by staying away.”

My chest tightens. That word. Safe. It shouldn’t feel like this. Like something settling into place under my ribs.

“I didn’t ask you to stay away,” I say.

“No,” he agrees. “You didn’t.”

“Then why—”

“Because I don’t do halfway, Clementine.”

The words hit me harder than they should.

“I don’t get close and walk it back,” he continues. “Hell, I don’t get close at all. Not until you. Because I don’t touch something I’m not willing to keep.”

Something in my chest flips over. I whisper, “I’m not something.”

His gaze sharpens instantly. “I know,” he says, voice dropping. “That’s the problem.”

I don’t remember moving. One second, I’m standing a few feet away, trying to breathe through whatever this is… The next, I’m right in front of him. Close enough to feel the rise and fall of his chest, to see the moment his control slips.

“Then don’t talk like I am,” I say, quieter now.

His hand flexes at his side. He doesn’t touch me. Not yet. “You should step back,” he tells me.

I don’t.

“Why?” I ask.

His jaw tightens again. “Because I’m trying real hard to do the right thing here.”

My lips part. “And what’s the right thing?”

“Not touching you.”

That should be enough. For any sane woman, it would be. But I’ve never been sane when it comes to him.

“Then don’t,” I say.

His eyes darken.

I reach for him. My fingers brush his shirt, right over his chest.

His heart is pounding. Mine answers.

“You’re still acting like this is something you have to fight,” I whisper. “Like it’s wrong.”

“It is,” he says instantly.

“Why?”

“Because you deserve better than this.”

The words hit like a slap. “Better than you?” I ask.

His silence is answer enough.

Something in me steadies. “I don’t want better,” I say.

His gaze snaps back to mine. “I want you.”

There it is. No taking it back. No softening it. Truth. Raw and exposed in the firelight.

For a second, I think he’s going to walk away. I see it in the set of his shoulders. The way his body leans back just slightly, like he’s already pulling himself out of this.

Like he always has.

But this time… he doesn’t.

His hand comes up—slow, like it costs him something—and wraps around my wrist. Firm and grounding. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says.

“I do,” I breathe.

His grip tightens just enough to make my pulse jump under his fingers. “No,” he says quietly. “You don’t.”

“Then show me.”

The words come out before I can second-guess them. Or soften them. Before I can be anything but completely, recklessly honest.

That’s when something in him finally breaks. The distance. The restraint. The careful lines he’s been holding between us.

He steps into me. I feel the shift before I understand it. The moment he stops holding back. His forehead presses briefly against mine, the length of one shared breath.

“After this,” he murmurs, “there’s no going back.”

My heart stumbles. “I’m not asking to.”

His hand slides from my wrist to my cheek, rough palm warm against my skin. He hesitates. Just for a second. Like he’s giving me one last chance to pull away.

I don’t. I lean into him. That’s all it takes.

His hand slides from my cheek, slow—like he’s thinking again. Like he’s remembering something he shouldn’t.

I almost protest. Almost pull him back. But then I see where his attention has gone.

The rock.

I hadn’t noticed it before. Not really.

Not the way he has.

Carved into the surface just behind me, half-hidden by shadow and time, is something old. Worn down. Faded. But still there.

A coiled rattlesnake. And a rose.

My breath catches. It feels… important. Not just decoration. Not just history.

Hammer goes still. Completely still. Like stepping any closer might mean something he can’t take back.

“What is that?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away. His jaw tightens. “Old mark,” he says finally. “Been here longer than any of us.”

That doesn’t explain anything, and yet it somehow explains everything.

The fire shifts behind us. The night presses in. And suddenly, the air feels thicker. Like it’s waiting. Or something is.

Hammer looks at me again—a man no longer fighting this, a man already lost.

“Clementine…” he says, low.

There’s a warning in it. There’s something else, too. Something final.

I don’t step back or look away. Instead, I wait, let the silence do the work even though I don’t know what I’m waiting for.

His hand lifts again. Not to my face this time. To the rock.

His fingers brush just beneath the carving—hesitant at first, like he’s testing something. Then firmer. Deliberate. A choice.

My pulse stutters.

“I was sworn to the covenant here. Watered the roses with my blood. Promised to deliver justice sharp as venom and just as deadly. My first vow, my first promise. Long before you.”

He says the words slowly, searching for the right ones as his eyes burn into me, intense, dark, unyielding.

“Your first loyalty?” I finish, trying to understand his meaning.

He nods once. “Yes, before all else. Because the Covenant is what makes me who I am. What makes a man who can protect you… who will protect you at all cost. So, me and the Covenant? Inseparable.” His voice lowers, velvet and gravel. “Want the same with you. Inseparable.”

I thought he was explaining allegiances. Telling me why I would never be first in his life. But his words say otherwise. So do his actions.

“I want you, sweetness. Now. Forever. Can’t think about anything but you, dawn to dusk. You’ve ruined me.”

Warmth pools behind my sternum. “Same,” I manage, voice wavering.

His other hand finds mine, rough and certain. He turns my palm up. Open and exposed.

“You sure about this?”

I swallow too loudly, chin trembling. But I nod once. Firm.

I gasp at the cut across my palm. Then, he carves one into his with a grimace, opening old scars. “Don’t have to swear to the Covenant, just me,” he says.

“But that’s the problem,” I whisper. “Me, Black Covenant. That’s split allegiance. Something a man like you would never do.” Loyal to a fault. Steady.

Fire burns behind his eyes. I’m right. This is it.

“Right,” I say, staring down at my palm, then at the rock. “Then, swear me to the covenant, too. Simple loyalty, shared goals.”

He sighs sharply, shifting his weight. But something lifts behind his eyes. It looks like relief.

“Swear me to what matters to you—and me—now.”

Blood glistens from stony rose petals, watered by two. Then, he presses that same warmth into my palm, speaking promises like an oath.

“After this,” he says quietly, eyes on mine, “there’s no pretending it’s nothing.”

The words feel familiar. Not in my mind. Somewhere deeper. Like something I’ve heard before without ever being told.

I swallow. “I know.”

His gaze searches mine one last time. Like he’s looking for hesitation or fear. A reason to stop.

I don’t give him one.

His fingers tighten around mine, pressing us together.  The moment stretches. Something shifts.

I feel it. Like a thread pulled tight between us. Or a line drawn that neither of us will cross back over.

Hammer exhales, low. “Stay close to me,” he murmurs.

“I already am,” I whisper.

His grip tightens just slightly. “Yeah.” Then, he adds softer, as if it costs him something to say it out loud, “Then don’t go anywhere.”

My heart stumbles. “Never.”

He pulls me into his arms frantically, mouth covering mine. Body wrapping around me, hard and hot. But his lips are soft and supple as they feather over mine. Tiny kisses of adoration that cover my face before he finds my mouth and sweeps inside.

My hands come up, palming his cheeks, smearing one side with the blood of our oath. He doesn’t care, metallic flavor staining both our mouths. Each movement grows more ravenous, more desperate until he pulls me into his arms and my legs circle his waist.

“Gonna keep you up all night,” he promises. Not brash or aggressive. No, his voice is soft and raw, like if he lets go of me, looks away even for a moment, I’ll disappear.

My arms thread around his neck, fingers curling into his cut and pulling him harder against me. “Need you, Calder. More than anything.”

I can feel his firm heat digging into the inside of my thigh.

He lowers me to the ground near the fire where he spread blankets earlier. That’s how I know he planned this. He takes his time, teasing, tasting, awakening my entire body before I feel him thumb my jeans open and the zipper slide free.

He buries his head between my legs, kissing my mound. A growl rumbles through his chest, eyes feral and hungry. “My favorite flavor.”

“Your only flavor,” I remind. But the sting of jealousy evaporates beneath the heat of his tongue and the steady stroke of his fingers.

The world narrows into heat, breath, pulse.

It’s enough.

Because I’m with him.

I don’t know what I just stepped into, palm still bleeding and burning.

Not in a way I can explain.

But I know this—whatever it is… it won’t ever let me go.

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