Riley watches from beside one of the mirrors, smiling like she knows a secret. “This is how it should be,” she says softly. “This is what you deserve.”
Gray’s grip on my face becomes firmer, more possessive. “No more secrets,” he promises, and the relief that floods through me is so intense it’s almost painful.
Rhett pulls me back against his chest, and I can feel the heat radiating from him like being wrapped in fire. “All ours,” he murmurs against my ear, voice rough with want.
Thane pushes off from the mirror, moving with that predatory grace he has. “Mine to protect,” he says, voice carrying that dangerous edge I’ve learned to crave. “Mine to feed from. Mine to keep safe.”
Stellan’s fingers tangle in my hair, touch light but possessive. “You don’t need anyone else,” he whispers, breath warm against my neck. “We’re enough. We’re everything.”
The golden warmth wraps around me, but it’s more intense now. Heavier. Like being claimed by all of them at once, and I want to drown in it.
But Riley’s reflection starts to waver, and she’s smiling wider now. “You could have him too,” she says, voice growing distant but pleased. “Why settle for just them?”
The golden light fractures, pulling Riley into darkness that swallows her whole. The guys fade with her, but not before I see something flicker in their eyes—a hunger that goes deeper than want, darker than love.
Then I’m alone in the dark, but it’s not empty.
It’s full of him.
He steps out of the dark like a sin I’ve been rehearsing for.
“Hello, little queen.”
The voice slides through me like warm honey, and I know exactly who he is. The sound of it is carved into my bones, whispered in my dreams, threaded through every moment I’ve reached for more than I was offered.
“Ethos,” I breathe, and saying his name feels like coming home.
Beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it. Dark hair that catches light that doesn’t exist, pale skin that seems to glow from within. When he looks at me, those silver-black eyes hold recognition, like he’s been watching me my whole life.
“You have been calling,” he says, moving closer. Not an accusation—a certainty. Like he’s been waiting for this moment as long as I have.
“I haven’t—”
“Haven’t you?” His fingers brush my wrist, and silver chains shimmer into existence. Not rough metal, but something that looks like captured moonlight and cool against my skin. “Every time you take what you want instead of waiting to be given scraps. Every time you demand instead of asking. You’ve been becoming who you were meant to, becoming mine.”
The chains feel like silk, beautiful and binding. “This is what you crave,” he says, voice dropping to that intimate tone that makes my skin burn. “Not their careful touches, their held-back hunger. You want to be consumed.”
His lips brush my throat, and I gasp as more chains appear, winding around my ankles, my waist. Each one sends pleasure shooting through me, dark and addictive.
“Surrender is not loss,” he murmurs against my neck. “It is choosing who holds you.”
I want to argue, but his touch is setting me on fire. The chains tighten in rhythm with his movements, and I realize they’re not just restraining me—they’re bringing us together, closer than I’ve ever been with anyone.
“Give me your light,” he whispers as my Ether flows between us in steady pulses. With each one, he grows more solid, more present, more real.
“That’s it,” he encourages, voice rough with hunger. “Give me what you want me to take.”
The Ether weaves between us like silk, and instead of feeling drained, I feel… connected. Like every pulse of power that passes between us proves how much we need each other.
“You were made for this—bright, burning, given wholly,” he murmurs against my lips. The kiss is everything—demanding, sure, unafraid. When his teeth graze my bottom lip, I gasp, and more silver light weaves between us.
The chains pull tighter, drawing more Ether, and the pleasure blurs with something darker. Something that makes the golden warmth from before feel pale and empty.
“More,” I hear myself whisper, and I’m not sure if I mean his touch or the strange sensations or both.
He smiles against my throat, fangs scraping skin. “Mine,” he breathes. Not a want, a fact. “You were made to be taken.”
The chains are bright now, fed by the energy flowing between us until they’re almost too beautiful to look at. And with every pulse that connects us, I feel more wanted, more needed, more whole than I ever have.
