I elbow her lightly.
Slade pretends he didn’t hear, though the corner of his mouth twitches.
“Aunt Lyra’s going to weep when she sees you two walk in together,” she says. “She’s beenbeggingthe universe for a Bellamy Christmas miracle.”
My cheeks heat, but Rhea’s teasing isn’t sharp—just affectionate, warm, threading through the hollow places grief used to live.
Slade shifts fractionally closer, his magic brushing my skin in a slow, quiet sweep. He doesn’t touch me—not here, not in front of customers—but I feel him like a heartbeat beside my own.
Anchoring. Reassuring.Mine.
Rhea sees it—all of it. And her smile softens into something understanding and knowing.
I’ve already chosen him—us—the bond.
I just haven’t made it officially…official.Not yet, not when so much still hangs over the coming days. But the decision thrums quietly between us, warm and steady as the magical thread pulling us together.
The shop glows in the last stretch of afternoon, dust motes drifting like tiny enchantments. Newt sprawls across a display of faux snow and refuses to move for anyone but Slade. Customers linger, laughing, whispering that they “approve of this one.”
Rhea nudges me with her shoulder. “Elle is dying to see you,” she says. “Don’t make her wait.”
My chest tightens—not with fear this time, but anticipation… belonging. A future that suddenly feels possible.
Slade steps close enough for his body heat to slip under my skin, and when my eyes meet his—dark, warm, full of unspoken devotion—I feel the truth settle deeper.
I’m ready. I’vebeenready. And this Yule ball… it isn’t just a family tradition.
It’s the nighteverythingshifts.
And I can’t wait.
Chapter 28
Slade
Piper sleeps late the morning before the Yule Ball—curled around Newt, hair a dark river across her pillow, face soft in a way that makes something fierce and tender rise in my chest. I watch her breathe for a moment longer than Ishould, then slip out quietly before the bond tempts me to stay with her all day.
I need to think.
And more importantly—I need to plan.
By the time I make it outside, the winter air is sharp with frost and pine. Piper’s neighborhood glitters beneath a thin veil of snow, as if the world itself is dressing up for tomorrow. I summon a small transport sigil and let it pull me toward the city center, hoping movement will quiet the restless pulse under my ribs.
It doesn’t.
Because I’m nervous.
Not about the ball. No—I am nervous because tomorrow, I want to ask Piper Bellamy to marry me.
The thought alone is enough to make my steps falter. Me. Slade Athalar. Demon lord of the Ninth Realm. A creature carved from ancient fire and darker instincts.Nervous.
I’ve led armies. Broken curses. Faced horrors that would hollow a mortal mind.
And yet the idea of Piper looking at me with anything less than joy when I ask her—It tightens something under my ribs.
I reach for my phone and call Rhea.
She answers on the second ring with the force of a spell gone sideways. “Slade? Is Piper okay? Where are you? What did you—oh gods, did Draven break something?”
