Cyprian is staring at me.
Not just looking.
Staring.
With an intensity that makes my skin flush.
"What?" I say.
"You are brilliant," he says quietly.
"I'm a massage therapist. This is literally my job."
"You are weaponizing your professional expertise to dismantle a corporate espionage operation."
"Well. Yeah. I guess."
He moves around the desk.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
His wings unfold slightly, the massive span filling the space behind him.
"You are not just my mate," he says. "You are my equal."
My breath catches.
He stops in front of me.
His hands settle on the arms of my chair, caging me in.
His wings fold forward, wrapping around us, creating a sanctuary of obsidian-dark feathers and soft gold light.
"I have spent centuries building this empire alone," he says. "Convinced that I could not trust anyone. That vulnerability was weakness. That I had to carry everything myself."
His forehead drops to rest against mine.
"And then you walked into my life. And you did not just heal my body. You healed my ability to trust. To hope. To believe that I could be something more than just stone and paranoia."
His voice drops to a whisper.
"You are my warmth. My anchor. My home."
Tears burn at the corners of my eyes.
"Cyprian—"
"We are going to destroy them," he says. "Together. As equals. As partners."
I look up at him.
At this towering, ancient, terrifying creature who has given me everything.
Who has trusted me with his vulnerabilities.
Who has made me feel seen and valued andessential.
