“I did.” His hold on me tightens. “But, not anymore.”
I turn in his arms, tilting my face up to his. And gods—his eyes under this strange starlight are something out of myth. Dark green, glowing at the edges, fierce and tender all at once. The wind carries the scent of warm stone and distant fire. His thumb slides along my lower lip, and my pulse jumps.
“Piper,” he whispers, voice dipping into something molten, “come here.”
I step into him without hesitation.
His mouth meets mine—slow, reverent, a kiss that tastes like a vow whispered straight into my soul. His fingers stroke the sides of my waist, his touch gentle but full of promise. He kisses me again. Andagain. Drawing me flush against him.
Tension coils low and hot in my belly. My hands slide into his hair. He groans softly—one of those rare, quiet sounds he only makes when he’s losing control. The stars swirl above us, echoing the dizzying heat climbing through me.
He presses his forehead to mine, breath mingling with mine. “Tonight,” he murmurs, his voice rough enough to scrape pleasure down my spine, “I show you the rest of my realm.”
His thumb traces my jaw, slow and possessive, then drifts down the column of my throat, lingering where my pulse jumps beneath his touch.
“Not the halls,” he continues, “not the quiet parts you’ve already seen… but the living heart of it. The streets. The pulse. The creatures that come alive after sundown.”
My breath catches. He leans in, his lips a brush against mine—barely there, a spark suspended between us. “You’ll see the Ninth Realm as it truly is,” he whispers, “colorful and wild and loud… the demons who don’t look human, the ones who shimmer and crackle and glow. The ones who shape the night like music.”
His mouth grazes my lower lip, sending heat spiraling through me. “And you,” he adds, eyes burning gold at the edges, “will walk beside me like the Lady you are.”
The words settle between us—heavy, electric, full of heat and promise—not the end of a moment, but the doorway into the next one.
And when he finally takes my hand and leads me toward the glowing city below, the air itself seems to shift… as if the Ninth is holding its breath for us to arrive.
***
The promise from earlier is thick and intoxicating, settling into my skin deeper than the chill of the high spire. I turn fully in his arms, andthe sight of his fierce, glowing eyes in the shifting starlight makes my heart race.
“I’m ready for the wild and loud,” I tell him, my voice barely a whisper, yet firm with conviction.
He’s smiling, a slow, predatory curve of his mouth that only makes him more beautiful. Slade releases me, pulling a dark, shimmering cloak from the air—spun from shadow and midnight, it settles over my shoulders, heavy with protective power.
“But not like that,” he murmurs, his gaze sweeping over my dress. “The streets require armor.”
I watch as he lifts his hand, the air around me crackling with raw magic. The fabric of my dress shifts, reforming. My casual dress morphs instantly into something tighter, darker, and cut with wicked defiance. It is obsidian black, clinging to my curves, plunging low in the front and hiking high up my thighs, shimmering like liquid shadow. On my feet, flat sandals arereplaced by high, aggressive heels of polished, dark crystal that feel lethal and empowering.
I’m the Lady of the Ninth, andthisis my armor.
He’s dressed the same—sleek, tailored black that makes him look like a creature carved from the darkest night. He takes my hand, and the world spins in a blur of purple light and searing heat.
We land hard, the impact jarring but exhilarating.
The air hits me—a wall of heat, sound, and a thousand overlapping, primal scents—burnt sugar, blood wine, and musk. The noise is a physical force, a deep, aggressive music that vibrates in my chest and skull, distorting everything.
We’re in the Lower Levels, the heart of the Ninth Realm’s nightlife. The street is a winding canyon of basalt and glowing plasma, lined with open-fronted clubs and bars that spill light and chaos onto the pavement. The creatures here are magnificent and terrifying. Hulking, shadow-skinned demons with blazing eyes, serpentine forms that glide through the crowds, and towering beings covered in crystalline scales that crackle when they laugh.
My breath catches, but I force myself not to gape.
Slade grips my hand, his thumb stroking my knuckles in a slow, possessive warning to the crowd. “Welcome to the Harrow district,” he shouts over the thundering bass, his voice rough but clear. “The pulse of the realm.”
He guides me toward a doorway, a gaping maw of black stone that pulses with deep red light. I walk with a new, deliberate power, matching his stride in my vicious heels.
The moment we step inside the club, the noise is deafening, the air thick with sweat and pheromones. We’re in the Harrow, apparently notorious… and I have to admit… rather magnificent.
Slade pulls me instantly into the crush of bodies on the main floor. The music is a deep, poundingrhythm that demands movement. I let it take me, allowing the chaotic energy of the crowd to fuel the heat already simmering in my core.
He locks his gaze on mine, his dark green eyes glowing gold at the edges. Slade presses his hips against mine, making every accidental brush of our bodies an explicit act. “Drink this,” he commands, seizing a glass of glowing liquor from a passing waiter—a fiery, spiced liquid that smells of temptation. “You’ll love it.”
