Otto yelped and vanished deeper under the pillow. “I bite you.”
Lola’s laughter was muffled by Callon’s chest. “Behave. You’re going to traumatize him even more.”
He shrugged, kissing her hair. “With you? Never. And he’ll survive. Seems like he always does.”
Wyatt lounged on a thick branch, moonlight glinting off the tree leaves. Rafe was a few limbs up, feet swinging lazily. Drystan and Kian were sprawled on the grass below, while Bane, the only one with a panther form, prowled in the shadows, silent and watchful. He was always restless.
Wyatt stretched, grinning. “At least somebody’s getting their tension worked out tonight. I swear, if Gage howls one more time, I’m gonna start taking bets on how many walls he breaks.”
Rafe snickered. “You know, Callon’s not much better. If he and Lola start up, we might have to evacuate.”
Kian yawned. “I just want a mate so I can shift. And maybe not have to listen to everyone else’s mating drama because I’d be too busy with my own.”
Drystan rolled his eyes. “When you meet her, I’m going to tell your mate you said that.”
Bane padded by, tail flicking. He glared at them, his unspoken message clear. He was done with their banter and wanted them all to go to sleep. He was just as grumpy as Callon.
Wyatt’s smile fell as he met the older panther’s gaze. Bane hadn’t always been so serious. Once he’d actually been fun and light-hearted like the rest of them. But losing his mate hadchanged him. Wyatt gave Bane a nod, letting him know he “heard” him loud and clear and settled further into the trunk. His head tilted back, and he looked up at the expanse of the night sky. The stars were stunning out here in the middle of nowhere, so very different from the night sky of New York. Wyatt felt a pang of yearning, something that was familiar to him because it hit him every night when he went to bed. His mate. His heart and his beast were restless for her. He found himself even more melancholy than usual with the sound of distant laughter coming from the house.
As much as he wanted to hear from Nico that Roan and Maddie were okay, a part of him hoped they wouldn’t because he suddenly had a very strong urge to tear into an enemy. If he couldn’t have his mate, maybe at least he could distract himself with some good old-fashioned bloodshed.
Chapter Ten
“The human saying, ‘keep your friends close but your enemies closer’ is something I actually respect about the species. The ability to stab one of their own in the back seems quite easy for them. Once upon a time, I would have never even entertained a single thought of hurting a member of my kingdom. But, things change. People change. And sometimes, when things that should change, don’t, then the change must be forced.” ~ Cassia
The lowest tunnels beneath the Kingdom of Silk were less a place and more a memory pressed into stone—cold, damp, and webbed so thickly the air itself felt sticky. Few ever ventured this deep, not even the most curious of the palace guards. That made it perfect for Cassia’s purposes.
Cassia—court advisor, golden silk spider, and the unacknowledged architect of a coup—stood at the edge of her clandestine meeting, the soft glow of lanterns glimmering off the intricate webs that cocooned nearly every surface of the chamber. The ceiling sagged with the weight of old magic andold ambitions. Her co-conspirators—her younger brother Dax, the ever-worried mage Neru, and clever, sardonic Mei—were already gathered. Each one, heartbreakingly beautiful in that refined Damarian way, reminded her why she’d started this in the first place. These Damarian males needed mates. Theydeservedmates. And she was tired of waiting for Visata to bestow the blessing upon them.
A rustling sound from the cell just beyond the far wall, sealed tight with layer after layer of Cassia’s own web, pulled her attention from her thoughts and plotting. They couldn’t escape. The web wall was thick, shining with a faint iridescence under the lantern light, and spelled to part only for the touch of those who’d spun it. Inside, Maddie and Roan were tightly bound together in a shared cocoon, suspended just above the stone floor. Cassia remembered how they’d looked as she wrapped them in her web, Maddie’s left side pressed to Roan’s chest, her cheek pillowed against his heartbeat, their limbs immobilized in the silk. Their breathing was slow, their eyes heavy-lidded–the after effects of the venom-laced nourishment that kept them alive and, more importantly, kept Roan’s shaman magic and Maddie’s stubborn will subdued.
The cocoon was a masterpiece: resilient enough to hold a bear, laced with her own venom, and enchanted to muffle sound both ways. The captives might hear the occasional echo, but nothing more. No spell or scream would pass through.
Mei, youngest of the group, perched on a crate, looked every inch the picture of a Kingdom of Silk Damarian refinement—his hair black as molasses, brushed back from a high forehead and framing a face so symmetrical it almost looked carved. His eyes, deep-set and shining with an intelligence that bordered on unsettling, jerked to the opaque web-cell and he grinned, lips quirked in a way that always made Cassia think of mischief and secrets. Even the way he sat—ankle crossed over knee, fingersidly spinning a bit of web—spoke of quiet confidence. There was something too precise about his movements, every gesture calculated for maximum effect, like a predator that knew to conserve its energy until the perfect moment.
“They looked cozy,” Mei observed with a smirk. “Think they want a blanket, or just a little more venom in their nightcap?”
Dax, Cassia’s brother, was the most striking of the three—tall and broad-shouldered, but where the wolf or bear shifters carried their size like a challenge, Dax wore it like an expensive coat. His features were all elegant angles—high cheekbones, a sculpted jaw, lips that might’ve been sensual if not for the perpetual smirk. His skin was pale, nearly luminous in the low light, and his hair—dark brown with copper highlights—curled at his neck in a way Cassia remembered from when he was a boy. His eyes, a rare amber, gleamed with both mischief and calculation. Dax flicked a bit of webbing off his sleeve with slender fingers—fingers that were as deadly as they were graceful.
“If you wake them up, Cass will have you scraping silk stains for a week,” Dax drawled, his tone as smooth as the silk they all spun. “The female’s incessant talking is grating on my sister's last nerve, and I really don’t want her to accidentally kill her.”
“Please,” Cassia replied, her voice smooth as spun gold, “I have more self control than that, and higher standards. There isn’t a single stain on that web. Perfection is non-negotiable.” He wasn’t wrong about Maddie’s gabbing. The girl seriously did not know when to shut up. Though she had to admit, at times, the conversations between them were a little intriguing. It made her miss her own mate. They used to talk for hours. Even after having been mated for centuries, they never lacked for conversation.
Neru, a mage and a rare breed for any kingdom, crouched near the wall with runes glowing faintly around his hands,looked up. Though he was the oldest among them, he appeared as a man in his prime—mid-thirties at most. His skin was dusky, his jaw shadowed with a perpetual five-o’clock stubble that gave him a weary gravitas. His hair, long and streaked with silver, was pulled back at the nape of his neck, and his eyes—gray as winter mist—were always half-lidded, as if he saw more than he let on. Neru’s hands, long and elegant, danced over the dirt, tracing runes with meticulous care. The faint, iridescent shimmer at the base of his neck marked him as a mage—a subtle badge of honor and danger.
He paused longer than usual before speaking, gaze fixed on the webbed cell. “The venom’s holding,” he said, but his tone was less certain than before. “Roan’s magic is a low hum. The human—Maddie—she’s resilient, but . . . there’s something else.” He frowned, fingers flexing over the runes. “It’s odd. I can feel a stirring in her. Something under the surface–”
Mei cocked an eyebrow, lips quirking. “Stirring? Like what—she’s going to shift? I thought she was human.”
Neru shook his head, brow furrowed. “Not shifting. Different. Maybe it’s just the proximity to Roan, or maybe something else. I wish I knew why Roan brought her to see Lyric in the first place.”
Cassia’s mouth tightened, her own features every bit as refined as the men before her, though hers carried the memory of old pain. She was angular and ageless, her golden hair braided back in a style that denoted both rank–by its length–and mourning–by wearing it constantly bound. The faintest lines at the corner of her eyes were evidence of centuries spent playing the long game. As close as she’d always been with Lyric, the shaman hadn’t disclosed the details—not to Cassia, not to anyone. It irked her, that little bit of secrecy. For a brief moment, Cassia wondered if Lyric was starting to suspect something, sniffing out the web Cassia had so carefully spun. But she quicklydismissed the thought; she’d had Lyric fooled for centuries, just as she’d had Athena fooled. Cassia was the queen’s most trusted advisor, her confidante, her shadow. If Lyric suspected anything, she’d be barking up the wrong tree.
She let herself smile—a thin, cold line. “We need them alive, but not alert. And we certainly don’t need Roan’s magic waking up.”
Dax grinned, all fangs and bravado, but there was a shiver of tension in his eyes—Cassia caught it, as she always did. He was her younger brother, one of the reasons she’d started this web-spinning in the first place. “You’re late to that train, Cass. We’ve been debating whether the human is Roan’s lover. Mei says yes. But I’m not convinced. He seems just as annoyed with her yapping as we do. But Mei said when he’s not tied up, he probably keeps her occupied so she can’t talk.”
Cassia rolled her eyes. “Have you two always been this immature, or are you digressing as you age?”
