The chamber's warmth seeps into my bones as I shed my furs, the weapon finding its home against the wall. The sounds of their whispered endearments and soft moans echo through the space.
"I'm just across the hall, handsome," Dani purrs, her fingers playing with Rhyland's beard. "I'll see you later tonight."
A sharp crack splits the air, followed by Dani's breathy gasp. Rhyland's growl of satisfaction tells me exactly what caused that sound.
"Can't wait." his voice rough with need. "Now go before I decide to keep you here."
As Dani saunters out, Rhyland turns to me. "Brother, could you be any more obvious? You were practically drooling over her ass." He stalks closer, his eyes glinting with challenge. "If you don't stake your claim tonight, I will throw you off this floating rock myself."
I sink into the plush mattress, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Your eloquence knows no bounds, brother. Tell me, did you learn such refined courtship techniques before or after becoming a Viking?"
Lucian
48
I'm wearing a trench in the hardwood, pacing like a caged animal. Haven't closed my eyes in eighteen hours—not that I could sleep if I tried. The bond in my chest feels like an open wound, raw and bleeding, screaming for its other half.
Every second without a word from Dani is another nail in my sanity's coffin.
Six hours. We've got six fucking hours before Lilith starts her DIY angel dismemberment project.
The thought sends another wave of nausea through me. My mind keeps spinning worst-case scenarios like a demented carousel—each one more horrific than the last.
Is she hurting her?
Torturing her?
Has she touched those iridescent wings yet?
The vault downstairs calls to me like a junkie. The Soul Stone's down there, practically gift-wrapped for Hell's favorite psychopath. I could end this right now. Just hand over the cosmic nuke and get my angel back.
But she wants Rhyland, too.
I could lie. Feed her some bullshit about knowing where he is. Or tell her the truth—that he's playing hopscotch through the air realm. Either way, I'd be painting a target on everyone's back.
And I don't even care anymore.
Rosa's in the kitchen, filling the house with the scent of her famous enchiladas—the ones that usually have me drooling. But right now? Food tastes like ash in my mouth. The only thing I can taste is failure and time slipping away.
The bond twists in my chest like barbed wire, each pulse a reminder of what I've lost. This isn't like the last time when Captain Bloodbitch took her. The bond wasn't sealed then. Now? It's like missing half my soul, and I'm done waiting for magical Post-It notes and careful plans.
Emily can take her caution and shove it where the sage doesn't burn.
I'm halfway to the vault when my phone chirps. The message makes my heart skip:
Do try to dress appropriately, darling. Black tie affair and all that. Wouldn't want your little angel to be embarrassed by your... pedestrian fashion choices. Though I suppose that's the least of her concerns right now ????
I shove my phone in my pocket, grinding my teeth.Of course,Lilith wants to turn this into a spectacle. Because being a psychotic bitch isn't enough—she needs an audience for her megalomaniac theater production.
My fingers barely brush the vault's keypad when an invisible force clotheslines me. I slam into the wall hard enough to crack plaster.
"Motherfucker!" I snarl, peeling myself off the wall. Emily and her fucking protection spells. I blur up the stairs, ready to hunt down my least favorite Glinda and give her a piece of my mind. Fury burning in my veins—
And screech to a halt outside her door, my hand frozen mid-reach for the handle.
Oh fuck. Just, NO.
"Mmm, yeah, split me open with that demon dick," Emily's breathy moan filters through the door. "Show me what that supernatural stamina can do."
