They left still chuckling, Gabriel following with a confused look. The throne room doors closed behind them with a soft boom.
He stood alone for a moment, letting the silence settle. Letting anticipation build in his chest like pressure.
Yesterday, he'd needed to hold her. He’d needed to reassure himself she was real, whole, his. To feel her pulse and know she was alive.
Today, he'd promised, she could have everything.
He turned and walked back toward their chambers. His pace started controlled. But with each step, the bond pulled tighter. Herdesire was bleeding through, mixing with his own until he couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
His pace quickened. Then quickened again. His heart was pounding now. His skin felt too tight. Every step brought another wave of her want crashing through the bond, stoking the heat building in his chest until he was nearly running.
He reached their chambers. His hand closed around the door handle, cool against his palm.
Pushed it open.
And stopped dead in the doorway.
LXXXIV.
DANTE & BRYNN
Dante
Brynn stood naked in the center of the room, her back to him, and she was glowing.
Her shadows moved across her skin. But where his were black as void, hers were white. They traced the curve of her hip, wound around her thigh, cupped her breast, and squeezed before spiraling away. She gasped softly at her own touch, head falling back, and the sound went straight to his cock.
She'd been practicing while he was gone.
He gripped the doorframe, knuckles going white. Heat surged through him so fast it made him dizzy. She was magnificent. Transformed. No longer the fragile mortal he'd been so careful with. She was equal in every way.
And she was touching herself with her shadows while he watched.
"Brynn." Her name came out thick, warning and want tangled together.
She turned, meeting his gaze head-on. Fearless as ever. Her eyeshad changed when she'd transformed, silver threading through the green, and right now they blazed with power and mischief.
"Where were you?" Her voice was light, casual, but her shadows tightened, framing her body. Drawing his eyes to her breasts, her waist, the dark curls between her thighs.
He stepped inside and shut the door. It took every ounce of control he had not to cross the room and take her against the wall.
"The other Death Lords." He forced the words out. "Caelum's shells are destroyed. The souls are home."
Her shadows writhed, one tendril sliding down her stomach, dipping between her legs. She let out a soft moan, and his cock throbbed.
"Gabriel's leading the Mourned realm now," he managed, watching her shadow stroke through her folds. "He was Caelum's second. Disappeared long ago. Locked away for trying to stop the harvesting."
She walked toward him. Her shadows reached out ahead of her, brushing across his chest through his shirt. The warmth surprised him. He'd expected cold, like his own, but hers burned with gentle heat.
"The courts are balanced again." His voice was strained now, barely functional, as her shadows slipped beneath his collar to stroke his throat. "Gabriel explained how Caelum hid. Using drained souls as camouflage."
She stopped inches from him. Close enough that he could smell her arousal, rich and intoxicating. Close enough to see the wetness glistening on her inner thighs.
"Is that all?" She looked up at him through her lashes.
"Yes."
Her shadows slid down his chest, his stomach, and cupped him through his pants. He hissed, hips jerking into the touch. His own shadows surged instinctively, black tendrils reaching for her, but she batted them away with a flick of white.
