"They were worth saving."
"Were they?" I leaned closer, until our faces were inches apart. "The same mortals who worship the Keepers for maintaining their prison? Who would burn you as a monster if they knew what you really were?"
"They didn't choose the lie any more than I did."
Her voice wavered slightly, and I saw it, the doubt she'd been carrying since Oakhaven. Since seeing their fear when they looked at her wreathed in my fire.
"But you did choose," I said softly, my free hand rising to trace the golden veins visible on her throat. They flared at mytouch, responding to their creator. "You chose to reach for us. To use our power. To become something more than human."
"I chose to save lives."
"You chose to stop fighting what you feel."
The words hung between us, heavy with implication. Because I could feel it through our connection, the hunger in her that matched my own. Five years of blood-bond had created intimacy deeper than any physical touch. I knew her desires better than she did, felt every suppressed want, every forbidden thought she'd tried to bury.
"I feel duty," she said, but the protest was weak.
"Liar." The word came out as barely more than breath. "I can taste your dreams, remember? Every night for weeks, you've dreamed of us. Of this."
Her breath hitched, and color flooded her cheeks. Through our connection, I felt her remembering, my hands on her throat, Flynn's teeth on her shoulder, Thane's arms around her, Elias burning through her like phoenix fire. The dreams that had driven her to exhaustion and near-madness.
"Those weren't my choice?—"
"They were your creation." I pressed closer, until our bodies were separated by mere breaths, until she could feel the heat radiating from my form. "Dreams are the mind's way of processing desire. And you, little Keeper, desire us with an intensity that's been driving you to distraction."
She opened her mouth to protest, but I continued before she could speak.
"Just as we desire you." The admission cost me, pride warring with honesty. "Do you think you're the only one affected by this bond? Five years of consuming your essence, your memories, your very self, we're as bound to you as you are to us. Maybe more."
Her eyes widened at that, and I saw her processing the implications. That the hunger she felt might be mutual. That the dreams might be shared.
"I could teach you to channel it," I offered again, my voice dropping to something more intimate. "To protect them better. To be what you need to be to survive what's coming. All you have to do is stop fighting what you feel."
The hunger in my eyes must have matched the hunger she'd been denying in herself, because she stopped breathing for a moment. The Threshold itself seemed to hold its breath, reality pausing to see what she would choose.
Through our connection, I felt her wavering. The exhaustion from the fight, the horror of imprisonment she'd condemned the survivors to, the weight of lies she'd been carrying, all of it pressed down on her. And beneath it, that terrible want she'd been trying to suppress.
"What would you teach me?" The question came out barely above a whisper.
Victory sang through my veins, but I kept my expression controlled. "Control. True control, not the rigid suppression the Keepers taught you. How to channel divine fire without burning yourself out. How to fight like a god instead of a mortal playing with power she doesn't understand."
"And in exchange?"
Always transactional with her, always looking for the trap. Smart girl.
"In exchange, you stop pretending this is just duty. Stop lying to yourself about what exists between us."
She swallowed hard, and I tracked the movement of her throat, the golden veins pulsing there. "What exists between us is predator and prey. Prisoner and jailer."
"Is that what you felt when you reached for my power? When you trusted me to save those mortals?" I moved my hand fromthe wall to her face, fingers barely grazing her jaw. "Is that what you feel in your dreams when you call our names?"
She shuddered at the touch, her eyes fluttering closed for just a moment before snapping back open. The defiance there was beautiful, even as it crumbled at the edges.
"This is wrong."
"By whose definition? The Council that murders anyone who questions them? The Order that's built entirely on lies?" My thumb traced her cheekbone, and she leaned into the touch for just a fraction of a second before catching herself. "Or maybe by the definition of a woman who's been taught her entire life that wanting anything for herself is selfish?"
That struck home. I felt it through our bond, the way those words found every doubt, every suppressed desire, every moment she'd wanted something beyond duty and been denied.
