She settled against him, letting his steady rhythm calm her. Strong and sure beneath her ear.
His breathing changed almost immediately, slowed, deepened, evened out. The adrenaline that had been keeping him upright finally giving out now that she was safe in his arms. Now that he could finally stop fighting.
His hold loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go, even as sleep took him.
She stayed still, feeling his chest rise and fall. He'd barely slept for two days. Of course his body was demanding payment now.
She should close her own eyes.
But she couldn't stop looking at him. The way his face relaxed in sleep, the harsh lines softening. The way his shadows finally went quiet, no longer writhing with anxiety. The way he looked younger somehow, less like an ancient Death Lord and more like just a man. Exhausted and vulnerable and hers.
Mine, she thought, and felt the bond pulse in agreement.My Reaper. Mine.
Her own tiredness pulled at her, dragging her eyelids down.
Even as sleep took her, wrapped in his arms with his heart beating beneath her ear, one thought remained crystal clear:
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'd show him exactly what she meant.
Tomorrow, there would be no stopping. No holding back.
Tomorrow she'd claim him as thoroughly as he'd claimed her.
LXXXIII.
DANTE
The brush of a foreign presence against his wards woke him instantly.
Multiple presences. All powerful. All in his throne room.
Again.
Dante's eyes opened to pre-dawn twilight filtering through the windows. To the weight of Brynn draped across his chest, her arm wrapped around his waist like she was afraid he'd disappear if she let go.
Her breathing was slow and even against his skin. Deep sleep. The kind that came from feeling safe.
He didn't want to move. Wanted to stay here with her warmth pressed against him, her pulse beneath his palm where his hand rested on her back. Wanted to ignore the three presences currently in his throne room like they had any right.
But they wouldn't have come if it wasn't important.
He groaned softly against her hair, breathing in jasmine and citrus. His arms tightened around her sleeping form for one more moment before reality intruded.
Then he slowly extracted himself from the tangle of limbs and sheets.
She made a sound of protest, her hand reaching for him even insleep. The bond between them flickered with confusion, her subconscious registering his absence.
He paused, watching her settle back into the pillows. Her face relaxed again, features softened by sleep. Beautiful. She was so fucking beautiful it made his chest ache.
She needed the rest. They both did, though apparently he wasn't going to get it.
He found a shirt and shrugged it on, leaving most of the buttons undone. Whoever had decided to invade his domain at this hour could deal with his irritation and informal attire. His body still felt hollowed out from what he'd done. Power returning but slowly, muscles protesting as he moved.
The palace corridors were empty this early. His bare feet made no sound on stone as he stalked toward the throne room. Shadows curled around his shoulders, still half-feral from sleep.
The doors stood open like an invitation he hadn't extended.
All three of them had made themselves comfortable in his throne room like they owned it.
