Crave crosses the room in three strides, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking my hand before I’ve fully processed being awake. “How do you feel?”
I take inventory.
My body answers differently now. Strength settles, not sharp or volatile, but structural, as if every cell has been reinforced with something forged to last. Power moves beneath my skin in a low, even current, a controlled hum instead of the wildfire itonce was—nothing claws for release, nothing threatens to burn me hollow. The magic knows where it belongs.
And he’s there.
Not as an ache.
Not as a strain at the edge of awareness.
Just… there. Solid, steady, anchored in the same space I occupy, his presence as natural and unquestionable as gravity. No fractures. No fading. No sense of him fighting to exist.
Whole.
Exactly where he’s supposed to be.
“Alive,” I manage, my voice rough from disuse. “How long was I out?”
“Four days.” His thumb traces circles on the back of my hand. “Oracle and Hades took shifts keeping you stable. Your body needed time to adjust to the transformation. To fully become what you are now.”
“And whatamI now?” The question comes out steadier than I feel.
His silver eyes hold mine, and what I see there makes my breath catch. Not fear, not uncertainty, just absolute, unwavering certainty. “Mine. My Old Lady. My partner. The woman who chose to stand beside a monster and became something even more terrifying in the process.”
Old Lady.
The term carries weight in this world. It’s not just a title. It’s a claim. A statement of ownership, protection, and partnership all rolled into one. It means I’m not just someone he fucks. I’m family. I’m untouchable by club law.
I’m his in every way that matters.
“Is that what you want?” I ask, and something vulnerable bleeds through despite my best efforts to contain it. “Because I come with a lot of baggage now. Power I’m still learning tocontrol. A connection to Lilith that won’t ever fully go away. The attention of the Coven of Crows for the rest of eternity.”
He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. The words settle into me anyway, sinking deep, steady, and immovable. There’s no hesitation in him, no flicker of doubt, no space where uncertainty could take root. His certainty presses against mine, a constant, grounding force, as solid and undeniable as his presence this close. Every part of him is aligned with the promise he’s making, body, will, and something far more profound than either. There’s no question about it. No room for interpretation. He means every word, and he always has.
“The Heart Bind,” I whisper, because we haven’t talked about it. We haven’t addressed the fact that we’re permanently linked now, that his Apostate transformation means we can never sever this connection even if we wanted to. “Can we even be separated now?”
“No.” The word is simple, final, completely unrepentant. “The moment I became an Apostate, the Heart Bind became permanent. You’re stuck with me, Sloane. For however long we both exist.”
“Good.” The word leaves me soft but unyielding, and something in him answers it immediately. His breath catches, just once, a fracture in that iron control, and his hand comes up as if pulled by instinct alone. His thumb brushes my lower lip, not a caress so much as a pause, a silent question that hangs between us for half a heartbeat.
I don’t give him time to ask it aloud.
He closes the distance, and when his mouth meets mine, it’s slow only in the way a storm gathers, impossible to stop once it starts. His grip tightens at my jaw, not rough, but certain, anchoring me as his lips claim mine with a depth that steals the air from my lungs. This is possession sharpened into promise.
Heat coils through me, Bloodfire flaring in restless sparks beneath my skin as his mouth moves against mine with controlled intensity, as if every instinct in him is straining at a leash he refuses to drop. I taste restraint there, devotion, and the echo of a thousand things he could take and chooses not to.
My hands curl into his club cut, fingers biting into leather as the kiss deepens, pressure building until my pulse hammers loud enough I’m sure he can sense it. When he finally pulls back, it’s only far enough for our foreheads to touch, breaths uneven, the space between us vibrating with everything left unsaid.
His eyes stay locked on mine, dark, blazing, and utterly undone. And I know, with a certainty that settles straight into my bones, that whatever we just sealed will not be broken.
“Have a shower, get yourself feeling refreshed, and then there’s something I need to show you,” he says, his voice rough. “Something we need to do before the club sees you’re awake. Before reality crashes back in and reminds us that we’re still targets, still dangerous, still walking the edge of acceptable behavior according to supernatural law.”
“What is it?”
Instead of answering, he pulls me to my feet. My legs shake for a moment, unused to supporting weight again, but the weakness passes quickly. Whatever Oracle and Hades did, it rebuilt me stronger than before. I feel it in every movement, every breath, every step I take toward the bathroom door.
“I’ll be right out here waiting. Take as long as you need to make yourself feel better, okay?”
