“Now, now, Kingsley,” Nero taunted, blood streaming from his captured hand. “You’ve just done me a favor. The terms stated you could only strike my back. By breaking the rule yourself, you’ve ended this shit.”
Kingsley drew a sharp breath, veins throbbing at his temples. A flicker of regret passed over his enraged face—he saw his mistake too late.
Nero yanked the whip from Kingsley’s grip, seized the handle, and in one fluid motion lashed out. The tip carved an arc through the air and slashed across Kingsley’s face, ripping away the lower half of his mouth. Blood poured down his chin.
Kingsley bellowed. A massive twister of water formed around him, rising with a roar.
Students scattered, fleeing for cover from the crossfire of immortals—no, of gods. Only they didn’t know that the gods were among them, now clashing in a mortal courtyard.
Dante, Orren, and I moved to stand with Nero, forming a wall at his back. Kingsley’s followers flanked him, weapons drawn.
A brilliant light burst forward from Headmistress Stardust, forcing every onlooker to squint. Kingsley’s water twister recoiled, pushed back by her power. Nero’s shadows withdrew with a hiss.
“We’re done here,” the headmistress announced. “You attempted to strike through Professor Ravencrux’s skull, Kingsley. That fell outside the agreed bounds. His retaliation was justified. Everyone dismissed. This is my academy, and I will not see it reduced to rubble.”
“More reckoning will come,” Kingsley snarled through his ruined mouth. “You’re no longer a professor!”
“Thank you, motherfucker, for conveniently stripping me of that useless title,” Nero said, baring his teeth with a vicious grin. “The cardinal rule now no longer binds Bloom and me. And as a founder of this academy, I retain my right to remain within these walls.”
He pulled me into his arms, despite his ravaged back, his eyes blazing with triumph and fierce possessiveness.
His mouth claimed mine with savage intensity, marking me as his in front of every student, every professor, every watching god. The kiss was both brutal and tender, tasting of blood, hope, and an unbreakable promise.
The courtyard erupted into shocked murmurs, but I didn’t give a shit. I kissed him back with everything I had.
Chapter
Nine
Bloom
Scars and Sanctuary
We returned to Ravencrux Tower, Nero’s lake house in ruins behind us.
He brought me directly to his penthouse, while Orren and Dante assumed their posts at the tower’s entrance—a guard against anyone from the House of Kingsley who might be looking to stir shit. Morrigan was already waiting.
She directed Nero to a high-backed chair in the sitting room and set to work on his ravaged back. The room was grandly gothic: a massive fireplace dominated one wall, its fire burninglow. Heavy velvet curtains framed tall windows overlooking the academy grounds.
I offered to brew healing herbs, mostly to occupy my shaking hands. I wanted to be useful. Morrigan insisted her power was sufficient. If she disliked my presence, she gave no sign; her expression remained focused. Notably, she made no sensual sound as she worked this time. I knew I would not have let it slide. I had grown territorial.
The healing took nearly an hour. I watched her hands move, glowing with a faint light as they passed over the ruined flesh, drawing torn edges together. It was not a pretty process. The scars would remain, thick and raised. But he would heal.
When it was done, Nero waited in silence for Morrigan to leave. She gathered her supplies, promised to return in a few hours, and departed.
The door clicked shut.
The ward sealed us in—just him and me, and our precious, hard-won privacy.
He extended a hand.
“Come to me, little pale flower,” he said, his voice rough.
I was a strong weaver, yet he still used that delicate name. I tried not to roll my eyes, given what he had just endured.
I walked toward him slowly, my hips swaying. His eyes tracked the movement, heat searing beneath the fatigue. I climbed onto his lap, careful of the fresh bandages.
It felt right to be this close to him. Like coming home.
