“Because I sleep now,” Ash says, voice barely above a whisper. “And I didn’t before you.”
Ronan’s voice is last. It rumbles up from somewhere in his chest, low and absolute. “Because you’reours, little fox. And anyone who tries to take you from us dies slow.”
It’s hard to believe, but I feel steady for the first time in years. I lift my chin. “Good,” I say. “Because I’m not running.”
I reach up and touch the mask, fingers grazing the carved dark thorns, and feel it settle fully into place — not just the mask, but what it means.
“I’m yours,” I say again, and this time I let it echo. I let myself feel every word. “All of yours. And when we go after Damien, you don’t hold me back.”
Caelum rises. He steps in close, and when he says it, it’s not a promise.
It’s a sentence.
“Red,” he says, voice reverent and ruthless in the same breath, “we’re not holding you back.”
A slow smile curves his mouth, dangerous and so full of pride it steals my breath. “We’reunleashingyou.”
Chapter 38
Ember
“We’re unleashing you.”
The words echo through me—an invocation, a promise, a warning. Caelum’s gaze holds mine steady, blue fire against blue ice, and the room feels too small for what’s between us.
And the truth? I can’t decide whether to command them to hunt Damien down and burn him alive, or to drag them all to the floor and ruin us with the kind of devotion only monsters deserve.
It’s twisted. Beautiful. Romantic in the way storms are romantic—destructive, consuming, and absolutely inevitable.
Exactly what I’d expect from them.
My Masked Kings.
“Tell me what you desire, my disobedience,” Caelum murmurs, his voice a low, husky drag of velvet and hunger. “It will be yours.”
My breath catches, the air thick between us. For once, I don’t lie. “I want you,” I whisper. “All of you. Now.”
The words tremble out of me, raw and unguarded. Heat coils low in my stomach, spilling between my thighs until it’s almost unbearable—an ache that claws and tightens, that owns every inch of me. It’s not gentle. It’s wildfire, and I’m already burning.
Caelum steps closer, hands reaching for the mask on my face—then seems to decide better of it. He leans in, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, breath hot against my ear.
“As you wish, my queen.”
My legs turn to jelly. My breath goes shallow, my mind fogged by desire. He reaches for the leather jacket, tugging it from my arms.
“Wraith. Mateo.”
The command is quiet—dangerous. They stalk toward me, every movement deliberate, predatory.
Wraith’s touch is first, slow and sure as he peels away the thin fabric at my shoulders. Mateo’s follows, fingers deft, working with quiet precision. The air cools against my skin, a shiver racing over me before heat replaces it. The chill, the weight of their stares—it’s intoxicating.
“Saint. Ash.”
Saint steps forward, kneeling, his fingers brushing against my calf as he removes my boots. Ash waits until Saint has risen and stepped back, his green eyes locked on mine, unblinking. When he moves, it’s slow—reverent. The sound of fabric sliding down echoes through the hush, each second stretching until I’m trembling under the weight of their gaze.
I’m standing before them, nearly bared, the air itself holding its breath. They look at me like I’m prey—and they’re about to devour me whole. Anticipation rolls down my spine, and I lick my lips without meaning to.
Rook tracks the motion, eyes fixed on my mouth, hunger barely restrained—like he’s one heartbeat away from tasting me again.
