“Mmm.” He hiked her closer, his steely shaft digging into her hip. “Imeanwe won’t be leaving this bed for a month, so you won’t be making any meetings or appointments.”
She laughed outright. “High-handed, overbearing Demon. I don’t have any of those things.”
“Excellent.” He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, biting down. “No one will miss us then.”
“What aboutyour ‘meetings and appointments,’ mighty Imperial Son?” She dropped her voice to mimic his, snorting.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ah. So someone, somewhere, might miss us. Well you, anyway.”
“Luna.” He started to pull away but she shoved his head right back to what it was doing.
“I’m not complaining. Meetings are dreadfully boring, and the others are probably sick of me after everything I put them through. I bet they’d be happy to be left alone for a whole month.”
He laughed into her hair. “Glad you’re starting to see it my way, even if you got there from the wrong direction.”
She pinched his ribs and he jerked away, cackling. “Ooh, are youticklish?”
“Absolutely not.” He grabbed her wrist, pinning it above her head and bringing them nose-to-nose. “We Demons are far too formidable for such a thing.”
Her heart skipped over, a little thrill of nerves. His, in the bond.
“Forgive me if I’m the first to say it, but you should know—you’re a terrible liar, Brand.”
He swooped down to nip her jaw. “I know. Don’t tell anyone.”
She knew the grin spreading across her face was wicked. He hadn’t realized he’d only pinned one of her hands.
“I’m—”
Her head cracked with searing pressure, a breath hissing in between her clenched teeth as she scrunched her eyes shut.
“Behold the dawn,”the Voice said, urgent, its many layers battering through her skull,“crowned in rugged black and rusted flames. Do not fear the rising ruin, do not fear the light it brings. Triumph rests there, in the palm of twilight’s acceptance. Do not fe?—”
Lunara retched, the emptiness within her instant and sickening. It was like the Voice had been unwillingly ripped from her mind, that unfinished, strangled last word haunting her.
“Luna! Lunara!” Brand’s panicked voice broke through, the ringing in her ears subsiding in violent sweeps.
“Behold the dawn…” she whispered.
Lunara opened her eyes, and did.
Brand loomed above her, abject horror twisting his face, and clarity hit like a bolt of lightning. With a cry, she scrambled to her knees and shoved her hands into his hair, raking through it. “Rusted flames…” she muttered. Her fingers danced along his horns. “Rugged black…”
“Luna, what?—”
She gripped the ends of them and cranked his head back, forcing him to look at her. “The crowned dawn… is… it’syou.”
“The crowned dawn?” He tried to pry her fingers away but she was frozen, her mind zig-zagging around, trying to recall every other word the Voice had ever said to her.
“Luna, are you alright? Was this the voice you told me about?”
The Voice…She… Sweet fucking Sisters,the Oracle.
She wasn’t sure her heart was pounding anymore, or if it had flown from her chest entirely. Shaking tremors worked their way over her body, breaths so shallow she was likely to pass out.
It all made sense. So much terrible sense.
