Slade
Piper is a vision of soft winter warmth and quiet anticipation as she stands in the center of the apartment, fastening a gold crescent-moon comb into her curls. Her hair falls in dark, untamed spirals down her back, catching the light with every movement. Shewears a deep forest-green dress, fuzzy socks, boots, a cozy cream sweater, and my coat draped over her shoulders because she insists it’s warmer than hers.
She’s wrong.
It’s warm only because it’s mine, and everything that touches her reacts.
Newt perches on the counter like a small, judgmental emperor. He knows something is happening, tail swishing in irritation. He’s been fed. He’s been brushed. He has no reason to complain.
He complains anyway.
Piper adjusts her bag, tucks a strand of curls behind her ear, then looks up at me with that blend of curiosity and nerves she tries so hard to hide. “So, this is it? I’m meeting… your world.”
I cross to her slowly, savoring the sight of her effortlessly taking up space in what used to be my life’s quiet corners. “You’ve already met most of it. Hell. My people. My brother. Lucifer.” I pause, letting my thumb brush the side of her jaw. “Now you meet my home.”
Her breath shivers across my finger.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” I murmur.
“Oh, I’m not nervous,” she says. Then after a beat—“I’m nervous-adjacent.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. She beams at the sound, delighted and a little smug that she’s the one who pulled it from me. Newt yowls like he’s not the least little bit impressed by the joke.
Piper points at him. “He knows. He can sense a portal coming.”
“He suspects he’ll hate it,” I confirm.
She snorts. “He hasn’t even been through one yet.”
Newt yowls—long, offended, absolutely certain of his impending doom. I scoop him up. He goes boneless in my arms like he’s bracing for cosmic betrayal. Piper snorts behind her hand.
She steps closer and her hand slides into mine like it belongs there. “Okay. Let’s go before he stages acoup.”
Her trust hits me like a brand—hot, anchoring, absolute.
I raise my free hand and tear reality open.
The portal unfolds in shimmering layers of obsidian and pale gold, curling outward like a living thing. The air hums with familiar power, and she stiffens only for a moment before leaning subtly into my side.
“Stay close,” I murmur.
“As if I’d ever let go.”
I chuckle and guide her through. The realm shifts the second we cross. Gone is the apartment’s cramped warmth and twinkling Christmas clutter. Here, winter is a different creature—vast, humming with old magic. Snow falls in lazy spirals, glittering like powdered starlight over the obsidian path that stretches toward the mansion.
Piper stops walking, breath catching.
The Athalar Estate rises ahead of us—massive towers of dark stone veined with glowing sigils, pulsing like the heartbeat of an ancient beast.Lanterns carved into the shapes of serpents line the path, their flames bending toward her as if bowing.
Newt clings to my coat with his claws as if hanging on during the apocalypse.
Piper whispers, “Slade… this place looks like it stepped out of a myth.”
“It did,” I answer simply. “You’re part of that myth now.”
Her cheeks flush, and she squeezes my hand. The wards surge at her arrival—recognizing her bond to me, recognizing her as Lady Athalar, claiming her in ways she hasn’t yet grasped.
The doors open before us, tall enough to dwarf giants, carved with constellations and ancient runes. Warm air spills out—sweet with incense, firewood, and the faint metallic scent of old magic.
