“There’s a… gathering,” he says. “Seraphiel thought it might be time for you toseewhat your union will command.”
My stomach flips.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He leans in close, breath ghosting my neck.
“You don’t have a choice, darling. Yougavethat up the moment you let the wolf go.”
Something in mesnaps.
I elbow him in the ribs, hard enough to make him stumble. My shadows flare, barely touching the edge of the sigil line before they sizzle and die.
I curse under my breath.
Riven straightens, jaw clenched, but smiling.
“Oh, you’re going to befunwhen you’re finally broken.”
“Keep waiting,” I hiss. “I’m not yours. I’ll never be his.”
He chuckles, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. “We’ll see.”
Later, when I’m alone again, I dig into the sigils with raw fingers.
I don’t stop when they bleed. Because this place, this throne room in a realm built on fear? Itbreathesbetrayal. And now I know for sure—there’s dissent. Cracks in the loyalty. Rumors in the ranks. That’s all I need.
A spark.
And I’ll burn this place to the fucking ground.
30
DANTE
The words won’t leave me alone.
I see them every time I close my eyes.
The bond between a Guardian and a fae of the cursed line is forbidden... not because it weakens him—but because it unlocks the oldest part of what he is…
I didn’t sleep much last night. Or maybe I did, and just don’t remember what was dream and what was memory tearing itself back open.
My hands keep drifting toward the journal like it’s calling me.
I spread it open again on the table, the yellowed pages dry as bone, the ink like old blood. That same passage stares back at me, practically pulsing with energy now.
And I swear, the longer I stare at it, the more I feel it.
Thatpull.The low thrum beneath my skin. Magic. Not shifter instinct. Not brute strength.
Something else entirely.
I go to sleep with the book beside me.
Not because I think it’ll help, but because I’m running out of things that might. And when sleep finally drags me under, I fall hard and fast?—
—intoher.