But something else lurked beneath the surface of his mind. Something darker.
His shadow. The feral edge he’d warned me about. It stirred at Ryzen’s presence in our connection—sensed the emerald thread anchoring me to another male’s consciousness.
And itrejectedhim.
The darkness inside Zirene surged without warning—a wave of primal, possessive rage that slammed into Ryzen’s anchoring presence like a physical blow. “Not yours,”it snarled. “She is MINE. My Nova. My light. MINE.”
Ryzen’s consciousness recoiled.
I felt him withdraw—not slowly, not carefully, but a sharp, defensive retreat that yanked the foundation out from under me. One moment I was stable, anchored, reaching across the stars. The next I was flailing in nothing, my connection to Zirene stretching thin without Ryzen’s support.
“Zirene,”I sent desperately. “It’s okay. He was just helping me—”
His shadow didn’t care. It pushed against me now, trying to pull me closer, hold me tighter—but I didn’t have the strength. Didn’t have the range. Without Ryzen’s anchor, the distance was too vast, my power too thin.
I started to fade.
“Nova—”Zirene’s mental voice cracked with panic. “No, don’t—stay—I can feel you slipping—”
His shadow tried to hold on, desperate and clawing. I felt the push and pull of it—his feral need to keep me close warring with the physical reality that I was light-years away and running out of strength. The connection stretched—thinning, fraying—like silk webbing.
I snapped back into my body with a gasp.
Strong arms caught me before I hit the cushions. Ryzen. His chest was solid against my back, his breath harsh in my ear,and through our bond I felt the aftermath of Zirene’s attack—the echo of that possessive fury still rattling through him.
But beneath that—
Need. Raw and aching. Not for possession—forconnection.The same loneliness I’d glimpsed in his memories, now cracked wide open by the violence of Zirene’s rejection.
“Selena.” Xylo’s voice, sharp with worry. I felt his cool hands on my face, checking my pulse, my temperature. “You pushed too hard. Your vitals spiked—”
“I’m okay.” My voice came out hoarse. I didn’t try to pull away from Ryzen’s hold. Couldn’t, really. My limbs felt like water. “I touched him. Zirene. I… I felthim.”
Ryzen’s arms tightened around me. His shields were cracked now, leaking emotion he normally kept locked away. I felt his desperate need for her light—mylight—bleeding through the connection between us.
“His shadow,” Ryzen said quietly. “It’s stronger than I anticipated.”
“You pulled back.” I turned my head enough to meet his eyes. They were closer than I expected—inches away, emerald and aching. “You left me.”
Pain flickered across his features. “I wasn’t welcome in his mind. Staying would have made it worse.”
“But I couldn’t hold the connection without you.” The words came out more accusation than I intended. “I don’t have the range. The power.”
“Yet.” His thumb brushed my arm—unconscious, I thought, or maybe not. “You don’t have the poweryet.That’s why we’re training.”
The intensity in his gaze shifted. Deepened. I felt the change through our bond—the way his need was crystallizing into something more focused. More intentional.
“Again,” he said.
“Ryzen—” Xylo started to protest.
“Again.” Ryzen’s voice was granite. “The only way to build strength is to push limits. Controlled. Careful. But pushed.”
We went again.
And again.
Each time, Ryzen held me closer. Each time, our minds tangled deeper. I learned the architecture of his consciousness—the sharp edges of his grief, the hollow spaces where Xenak should be, the fierce determination that kept him moving when everything in him wanted to crumble.
