No sooner had she done it than the sunlight reached the top of the Solyr Stone.
The ground shook with a shockwave of power, rippling out from the obelisk and sweeping over them.
Then another.
And another.
The cracking shudders echoed along the mountain peaks. Waves crashed harder against the shore. The land roared with its triumph, with the gift it was being given.
On and on, pressure building, Brand’s markings blazing bright each time and spreading in spiderweb veins across his skin. A muscle ticked in his bearded jaw, his teeth clenching against the onslaught even as his eyes changed and began to glow, golden and fiery. A stark hunger filled them as she watched, his chest rumbling against her when he joined the others in their primal song.
Stars, was itprimal.
It was suddenly so sensual, so erotic—the rhythmic chanting and the heat in his look joining together and pooling within her. Unbidden, her breaths began to match his, her skin buzzing as every nerve ending responded to it. To him.
Only once did his eyes stray from hers—a brief glance down to her lips that made his nostrils flare—before they burned into her once more.
His arms tightened across her back and thighs, his fingers sinking into her, every illicit thought racing across the bond between them to plant itself in the other’s mind. Sweet sisters, how she wanted to kiss him, wanted to?—
Silence.
Immense, profound silence. So sudden that her ears rang with the eery absence of all those voices, the thundering power of Solyrian meeting the Solyr Stone at its zenith.
For the space of a single breath, it hung over the realm in its own sort of backwards cacophony.
The release of that pressure was a mute explosion of blinding light, and then all of the Horned City erupted.
Shouts and cheers took up the emptiness as they rejoiced, their jubilation so thick that Lunara was sure she could reach out and touch it.
A victorious grin spread across Brand’s face and he joined the celebration of his people, laughing as he spun her around. “Irrevocably?” he breathed.
“Irrevocably,” she answered.
He stepped right up to the edge of the platform. “Demons of the Montrealm, my brethren!” he shouted, his voice booming over the crowd. “The Sisters have blessed me, your Son! Behold, Lunara the Moonweaver—now marked by Solyrian. Behold, my true mate!”
She hadn’t known it was possible to be this happy.
She was here,and she wasdevastating.
Brand couldn’t stop staring at Luna, his heart overflowing. Clenching Hedda’s arm in a death grip, her teeth were sunk into her lip while she listened to Magnus being ridiculous, amused horror twisting her face and emphasizing a mark she didn’t even realize was there—a true blessing he never once thought he’d actually see, though he’d whispered the words that begged for it.
Along with a personal boon, nearly every Demon prayed for their mate as the Occurrence happened, whether they had one or not. There were rumors and legends that the sunstar could mark the both of you—could help you find your mate if you hadn’t yet or give you one more thing to be bonded by if you had—but mostbelieved it to be symbolic. He certainly hadn’t believed it to be a real possibility, and he’d never known anyone that had actually witnessed it happen.
Until today.
Brand hadn’t seen his own yet, but Lyriat’s look of abject shock had confirmed its presence.
They’d all long-since reverted back to their lesser selves and donned festive clothing, but their markings remained—this day and night the only time it happened—and so he knew, with absolute certainty, that there was a sienna sunbeam running in a pointed line down the center of his bottom lip and chin that hadn’t been there before.
A perfect, mirrored match to hers.
It wouldn’t always be visible, but that didn’t matter. All of the Horned City had fixed their eyes on Luna and seen it for what it was. And Sisters, how they looked at her now—with all of the awe and reverence she deserved.
She’d healed them. Cared for them. Sparred with them. Now, she would be eternal among them, written in their histories forever. The Nachthellian Sorcerit blessed by the sunstar at their Occurrence.
He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she beheld it.
Every thrumming inch of his body was intent on reminding him that he hadn’t been wrapped in her for a week. That he hadn’t tasted her, touched her, adored her. Only made worse by his gift.
