It's different from how he kisses the others. Softer. More careful. Like he knows I'm ancient and fragile beneath my sharp edges. Like he understands that the void inside me could swallow him whole if I'm not careful.
But I'm always careful with him. Have been since the moment I realized what he was. What he meant.
My anchor. My home. The only thing keeping the Original Darkness from consuming everything in its path.
"Let me take care of you," he whispers against my mouth. "Just this once. Let someone else carry the weight."
I let him push me back onto the bed. Let him strip away my clothes with careful hands. Let him map my cold skin with his warm mouth until I'm gasping, until the ice in my veins starts to thaw.
He takes his time. Traces every line of my body like he's memorizing me. When his hand wraps around my cock, I make a sound I haven't made in decades. Centuries, maybe. Something broken and wanting and completely undone.
"That's it," Skye murmurs, stroking slowly. "Just feel. Let me give you this."
The void inside me reaches for him, hungry and desperate, but he doesn't flinch. He opens himself to it, lets my darkness curl around his light, and somehow the contact doesn't consume him. It balances. Light and dark, human and ancient, Praestes and Djinn.
We fit.
When I come, it's with his name on my lips and his essence tangled with mine. The warmth floods through me, chasing away the cold from the deals I've been making. I feel almost alive again. Almost human.
Skye collapses beside me, his pink aura still glowing faintly. "Better?"
"Better." I pull him close, pressing my lips to his hair. "Thank you, little human."
"That's what mates are for." He yawns, already half-asleep. "Now rest. You have more work to do tomorrow, and I need you strong enough to do it."
I hold him until his breathing evens out, the warmth of his body slowly seeping into my cold bones.
Eventually, I ease myself from the bed, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. The work can't wait forever. But this moment, this connection, this reminder of why I'm fighting... this is worth any price.
I'm halfway to my desk when Skye's voice stops me, drowsy but alert. "Ambrose? What exactly are these deals going to cost you?"
I pause, then turn back to face him. He deserves to know. "The deals I'm going to make, the ones that will bring journalists here and ensure the truth gets out, they'll cost me." I touch my chest where the pendant used to hang, an old habit. "Nothing life-threatening, but I'll be cold for a few days. Won't be able to taste sweetness for a month. Some memories will fade."
Skye's eyes widen. "Ambrose, you don't have to..."
"I do," I say firmly. "This is what I'm good at. Making deals, writing contracts, finding loopholes in impossible situations. Let me use my power to protect our family."
He studies my face for a long moment, then nods. "Okay. But if the price gets too high..."
"I'll tell you," I promise, though we both know I probably won't.
That night, as I work through my network of contacts and old agreements, something shifts in my power. My djinn nature responds to the challenge ahead, eager to use my abilities fully for the first time in years. My Crossroads Keeper skills stir, ready to write the contracts that will reshape this situation.
My mother was a contract demon. She taught me that every deal has a price, but sometimes the price is worth paying.
I begin writing my own agreements, my blood marking each one, my essence sealing them into reality. A bargain with a journalist in the northern territories. She'll come witness the test in exchange for three days of my warmth. I'll be cold and uncomfortable, but alive.
An agreement with a broadcast specialist. He'll ensure the demonstration reaches every Magila household in exchange for my ability to taste sweetness for a month. Annoying but manageable.
A deal with a truth-binder. She'll ensure no lies can be told during the test in exchange for a memory I rarely access anyway. My eighth birthday. Already fading.
Each binding costs something. My nature carefully calculates the prices to make sure I'm not giving up anything essential. The agreements pile up on my desk, each one glowing faintly with sealed magic, each one a thread in the web I'm weaving to protect Stellan.
To protect all of them.
The next morning, I reach out to my first contact. A woman named Sera who owes me a favor from years ago. The communication spell connects after three rings.
"Ambrose?" Her voice crackles through. "Is that really you? Where the fuck have you been? It's been two years since you dropped off the grid. I thought you were dead."
