The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, as if both were afraid the other might disappear. Then her arms wound around his neck and he pulled her closer, and gentleness gave way to something desperate. He tasted of cider and starlight, of safety she couldn't keep. She kissed him back with everything she couldn't say—gratitude, regret, and something dangerously close to longing.
And on the edges, something darker, something familiar.
The mark erupted in agony.
Not the usual burning, but rage, pure, searing fury that raced up her arm and across her chest. She cried out against Arion's mouth, and would have fallen if he hadn't caught her.
The music stopped.
The temperature plummeted so fast frost spread across the ground in spirals. Lanterns cracked. Decorations withered to ash. The warmth in her chest turned to ice.
"He's coming," someone whispered.
Shadows between the trees thickened, reached, consumed. And through it all, the mark pulled her with vicious insistence.
A figure stepped from the darkness.
Eliam stood at the courtyard's edge, beautiful and terrible in his fury. Every line of him radiated controlled violence barely leashed.
"The three nights are over," he said, voice soft in a way that made Briar’s entire body tremble. "Time's up."
Chapter eighteen
The shadows released them into his chambers.
Stone walls, dark wood, the scent of pine and old magic. The darkness here breathed with his fury, pressing against the walls. Frost crept across windows, turning the glass opaque.
His arms remained locked around her from behind, holding her against his chest as shadows still clung to them both.
"You reek of him." His voice came soft against her ear, dangerously controlled. "Of starlight and choices you didn't have the right to make."
She tried to pull away, but his grip turned iron. The mark on her arm pulsed with each thundering heartbeat, spreading its burn past her shoulder. She could feel new thorns breaking through skin, tracing her collarbone with deliberate cruelty.
"Eliam—"
"Shh." One hand came up to her throat, fingers resting against where her pulse hammered. Not squeezing. Not yet. Just there, claiming even her heartbeat. "We're going to have a conversation about boundaries. About ownership. About what happens when pets forget their leash."
The word made her flinch. Pet. He'd called her many things, but this felt different. Smaller. Less than property, property at least had value.
He released her suddenly. She stumbled forward, catching herself on a table that hadn't been there before. When she turned, he was already circling, and the look in his eyes made her stomach drop.
She'd seen him angry, had seen him cold, cruel, calculating. But this? This was something else. His beauty had sharpened into weapon-form, every line of him radiating the kind of control that came just before violence.
The dusk dress felt like an accusation against her skin. Another court's colors. Another man's gift. She watched his gaze drag over it: slow, deliberate, cataloguing every thread that didn't belong to him.
"His colors." The words fell soft as snow, twice as dangerous. "Turn around."
Her body obeyed before her mind could protest. The compulsion in his voice allowed no resistance, though he'd barely raised it above a whisper. She heard him move closer, felt the temperature drop with each step until her breath came out in visible puffs.
His fingers found the laces at her back. For a long moment, he just stood there, letting her feel him. His presence. His control. The weight of what was coming.
"He chose this for you." His fingers worked the laces with deliberate slowness, each pull a small act of violence. "Dressed you in starlight. In hope. In everything I'm not."
The bodice loosened with each tug. His knuckles brushed her spine through the thin chemise, and she shivered. But beneath the fear, that warmth in her chest stirred. The same flutter she'd felt when Arion—
No. She crushed the thought, but too late.
"Your heart's racing." His observation came tinged with dark amusement. "Fear? Or something else?"
