No. Consumed.
He drew his power back, the faintest curl touching his lip, like he’d just won something. But my attention snagged on the small flex of his fingers that I could’ve sworn was an unconscious tic, as if he were trying to ease an ache.
Unable to sit in my disquiet a moment longer, I took a step toward him—chin up, eyes locked on his. “This. Isnot.My. Home,” I ground out, “and I sure as hells don’t need yourprotection.”
He took my measure, gaze flicking to the blade in my hand—the one I hadn’t even noticed I’d drawn. Fuck, I didn’t care that I was losing it. Control had earned me nothing but a collar in this gods-forsaken life, and I’d be damned if I handed anyone a leash. No, they could keep their promises of home. I wasn’t interested. Wouldn’t let anyone own me. Never again.
Something flickered behind his composed exterior—a glint of dark satisfaction lit his features before it vanished beneath the hard line of his mask, as if I’d imagined it.
His cerulean eyes darkened into midnight as he leaned closer, like a flower chasing the sun. “You do need our protection,” he said with an even tone dripping with condescension. “And this is your home.”
The words hit like flint to tinder. Rage ripped through me, fast and bright, spurring me into motion. One heartbeat we were locked in a silent standoff; the next, I had a dagger pressed to the pulsing vein at his throat.
“No,” I growled, holding my dagger steady—and his gaze steadier still.
His eyes gleamed as he leaned into my dagger, forcing me to steel my hand as a pinprick of blood pooled on the blade before slowly rolling toward my fingers. My chest rose and fell in heavy breaths as he challenged me to cut him deeper—and Mother help me, I wanted to.
“You know what?” he said, the low rasp of his mocking tone reverberating through my blade. “You’re right, Nyleeria. You had the na’li well in hand.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I only killed it for sport.”
Swagger poured off him in excess now. He was playing a dangerous game, and my rage reveled in it, wanted to praise him for it—like a queen of the underworld pleased by the severed head her hellhound brought her as a gift.
He smirked, as if knowing it too, and I hated him for it.
“You should have stayed in the Autumn Court,” he continued, and that primordial part of me that yearned to devour languidly stretched beneath the taunting caress of his words, wanting a reason—any reason—to unleash. “Seeing as how you knew you were there in the first place. Not to mention, seeking Wymond on your own would have worked out masterfully. And who needs a roof over their heads and a warm meal in their bellies when they can scrounge off the land and be hunted by all manner of creatures?”
He was right on all counts. My plan had been reckless—a fool’s gambit, even. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of backing down and admitting it. I looked at him with as much hatred as I could muster, slid my last dagger from my bandolier with my free hand, and pressed it against his chest.
“Fuck you,” I breathed, relishing the sweet taste of those words as they rolled off my tongue.
Endymion didn’t flinch. Instead, his gaze turned into an unspoken promise. He leaned down closer to me, earning a deeper cut, before whispering in my ear, “But to do that, my sweetest Nyleeria, you’d have to be capable of bearing another’s touch. And we bothknow that won’t happen any time soon, so don’t tempt a male with something you’re incapable of giving.”
Before I could paint the pristine white marble floors with his blood, Endymion disarmed me. Blades forgotten as they clattered to the ground, I drew back my elbows, then thrust my hands forward with all the force I could muster, shoving him hard in the chest.
He took a half-step back from the impact, a bemused look crossing his features.
A grunt of frustration escaped me as I shoved him again. Another half-step. He didn’t react. Didn’t move. No, that would’ve been more merciful than the flash of pity that slipped past his mask.
My focus narrowed, and with a scream of frustration and anger, I tried again to push him off balance—only this time, blinding power erupted from my hands toward him. And by the stars, the feeling was glorious—like lightning finally freed from the sky, obliterating anything that dared stop it from leaving its mark on the land below.
Endymion didn’t so much as blink. He held my gaze as his magic met mine, its glittering darkness devouring what I’d unleashed like the sea swallowing the deluge of a storm’s rain without thought. Depthless, and always hungry for more.
I cried out again, pouring everything I had into the next surge, every ounce of fury and grief I’d buried clawing its way free. I screamed until my throat burned—at him, at myself, at every cruel twist the Fates had seen fit to grant me.
The death of my parents.
The loss of Mrs. E.
Of Eithan.
Each thought tore through me like shrapnel. I screamed for the betrayal. For every stolen choice. For every lie that had kept me bound. I screamed until the sound splintered in my chest and left only the hollow ache beneath it.
Finally, when my power was wrung dry and knees threatened to give out, my arms dropped to my sides, shoulders drooping. We heldeach other’s gaze as my ragged breaths echoed through the deserted corridor.
Tears streaked my cheeks as I silently begged Endymion to understand—to see what trusting him would cost me. What calling this placehomewould do to me. That a part of me had died back in the human realm, and no matter how hard he tried, there was no resurrecting it.
After a long moment, his gaze softened, and in a heartbeat the version of him I’d once known—the one who’d danced with me, trained beside me, and offered kindness—stared back. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped, his attention snapping to the side just before someone valenned in. But not before I caught it—something quiet in his expression. Not pity. Not remorse. Understanding. The kind that comes from carrying one’s own ruin and recognizing it in another.
“Caius is—” The male fell short of words as he took in the scene.
