There’s a gargoyle, but it’s not Harlow. The male is in his true stony form, which is much larger than my own, and his eyes are locked on me.
The disappointment that put a sag in my shoulders when I first laid eyes on him flutters away, and another piece of my soul slots into place. He doesn’t even blink as my world shifts for the third and final time. I wrap my hand around Egan’s, and the urge to reach out to Modeus is so strong, I say my prince’s name, calling him to me.
The gargoyle lifts his flat nose in the air and scents the room, but I’m certain he’s searching through all the mingled scents and focusing on mine, or the combination of mine and my mates’.
“Cyrus?” Salvador gets to his feet a bit too slowly for my liking.
The gargoyle’s eyes shift enough that I know his sight now includes Reaper. They know each other. There’s no mistaking the recognition, but I’ve never seen him in this form or any other.
Cyrus takes a step farther into the club, and his hardened form melts away, leaving a brute of a man dressed in leathers in his place. The missing patch over his chest is glaringly obvious, the threads that held it in place still raw and dangling in spots. His chest is heaving as if he ran or flew hours to get here—I’d put money on the latter.
The amber color of his eyes is several shades darker than my own, seeming almost orange from this distance. His beard is peppered with white hair that gets lost among the mostly blond hues, and it’s a few shades darker than his truly blond locks, which are shorn short on the sides and a little longer on top.
“What are you doing here?” Salvador strides over to the gargoyle with a half grin of relief and offers his hand to him.
“I heard about Harlow. I had to see for myself,” he answers, but his words are directed at me.
“Fuck,” Sal mumbles when he picks up Cyrus’ hand and they lock forearms. “I still can’t believe it.”
“As you shouldn’t.” Cyrus yanks his hand back and looks down at Salvador. “Harlow did not end his life.” He strides away from the vice president and makes his way toward me.
“It’s okay, Egan,” I tell my fallen softly. I’m not sure if he already understands what the newcomer is to us. I wish I had a little more time to absorb what’s happening, but we’ll deal with the hand we have. “He’s one of us,” I admit, knowing full well it’s the truth. We are complete.
Modeus sums up what I’m thinking. “The last.”
Cyrus stops when he’s in front of me. Now that he’s closer, I can see flecks of green in his eyes, making them seem darker. His chest is still rising and falling rapidly. My instincts tell me to reach out to him, but everything feels so precarious in this moment, as if we’re all collectively holding our breaths.
Cyrus drops to his knee, and I see a flash as he draws a blade across his palm. My gasp is much faster than the well of blood that begins filling his palm. “Blood in, blood out. I’m yours if you will have me.”
He flashes his eyes up to me, and I swallow thickly. I reach behind my back, produce one of my blessed blades, and slice my palm before extending my hand to him. The moment our palms meet, a jolt of awareness courses through my body, and when I speak, my voice is husky. “Welcome to the Obsidian Angels.” The final thread I wasn’t aware I was missing twines itself around the others in my chest until it’s like a living, breathing steel cable, strengthening my backbone and fortifying my entire being.
Cyrus rises slowly, never taking his eyes off me.
“These are my other mates, Modeus and Egan.” I point to each of them in turn. “I think we have some things to discuss.” I tilt my head to the left, indicating I want to speak with him privately in the office.
Modeus pulls back from me, but I reach for his hand. “I want you there too.”
He lifts my fingers up and plants a soft, lingering kiss on my knuckles, and when I feel him trace his tongue between my fingers, my pussy clenches. “Allow me to stay out here. I’ll be your eyes and ears.” His words say he’s asking, but the heated look in his eyes only makes it harder to leave him out here when all I really want is all of them with me.
I grab his face with my hands and plant a hard, deep kiss on his lips before pushing him away. “Be ready to leave when I get out.”
I have just enough time to see my prince lick his lips before I turn away. Egan is right behind me with the gargoyle in hot pursuit.
Cyrus
By the timeI reach the edge of Obsidian’s territory, my shoulders are screaming for me to slow down, but I can’t. The moment I heard about Harlow’s death and his daughter taking over, I knew I had to get to his territory. My club wasn’t happy to lose me. I lost my colors when I wouldn’t heel, and I knew I was risking my life by leaving, but this felt too important to ignore.
The lush green forests call to me in a way I haven’t felt in years. My instincts tell me it was time for a change, and that’s why it was so easy to pick up and leave, but there’s something else too—something that severed the few remaining bonds I had to my home and my club.
It could just be that I’ve reached the age where my next move will more than likely be my final one and that’s why I’m restless, but the need to find out what happened to Harlow is consuming.
I stumble through the doors of the Obsidian Angels’ clubhouse, and my heart freezes in my chest before it pounds back to life, beating out a frantic staccato in my rib cage.
I tilt my head back, and my lungs fill with the most beautiful scent I’ve ever had the pleasure of inhaling. The ache in my shoulders cease to exist. I’ve found my true home, my mate.
The drone of music continues, but all the members are silent until I hear a familiar tone call my name. Reaper treads over from his elevated position and slaps his arm into mine in greeting.
My eyes are still locked on the creature near the back. It’s the first time I’ve ever experienced tunnel vision, but it’s likely not the last time she will steal my entire focus. If I thought finding out what happened to Harlow was consuming, it was a mere urge compared to my need to know every inch of her.
